I recently had dinner in south St. Louis city at Crusoe’s (deeeelicious Mayfair dressing btw) and as I was walking to my car I noticed the old cobblestones showing through the asphalt on a side street. It made me wonder about the story beneath the surface. What historical figures may have ridden down that same road in a horse drawn carriage? Or who were the men charged with the back-breaking labor of laying those bricks by hand years and years ago.
My next door neighbor has lived there for 25+ years. He told me that at different times in its history my house was a crack house and a whore house! So now visions of Dolly Parton and Burt Reynolds singing and dancing come to mind…but it’s one of the reasons I love my house…there’s over 100 years of stories to be told.
I’ve been observing people through different eyes lately…trying to see what’s below the surface. The woman who won’t leave the house without her Coach purse with giant C’s all over that screams to everyone that she spent $400; the loud-talker who has nothing substantial to report in a meeting but talks louder than everyone to make you think what he says is important; the handsome pathological liar guy who makes up outlandish stories to impress you; the quiet friend with the big blue eyes who is never the center of attention but is always observing everyone and everything…what are they hiding? What do they know? Who hurt them in their past? What are they afraid of?
I may work with some of these people…they may be my friends...and as I navigate the relationships it makes life a lot more interesting trying to connect with what’s below the surface.
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