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Welcoming the stranger
By Dorothy Cummings McLean
December 30, 2009
Dorothy Cummings McLean
I see in my mind’s eye a stranger. She is about 28 and has short dark hair. She is standing in the doorway of my parish hall. She is quite noticeable because she is wearing a red cashmere sweater, a black knee-length skirt and beautiful boots. Her head is up, her shoulders are back, she looks quite confident and she seems alert and cheerful as she scans the room.
Someone asks her if she is waiting in line for a cup of tea. She graciously apologizes for standing in the way, and joins the tea line.
Someone asks her if she is waiting in line for a cup of tea. She graciously apologizes for standing in the way, and joins the tea line.
After a quick look at the kind-looking, rather handsome, prematurely grey-haired man beside her, she says, “That was certainly a beautiful Mass.”
“Yes, uh, it was, uh,” says the man. “Is, uh, this, uh. Um. Your first visit here?”
Bingo. Conversation.
I imagine that Desiree — for her name is Desiree — had a very bad few seconds as she stood in that doorway. It isn’t easy walking into a roomful of strangers, even a roomful of fellow Catholics in a parish hall. However, I didn’t notice nervousness when I pictured Desiree in the doorway. I just thought, “That girl looks great in that colour, and I really must get some boots like that.” And, Desiree, seeing what the parish herd was doing, immediately joined the herd activity and tossed out a conversation gambit.
At a small party, you should talk to someone, anyone, right away, especially if they look very relaxed and open, e.g.: not with their arms crossed (bored or angry), not jiggling their leg or their car keys (bored and dying to get away), not facing away towards another person or group (absorbed), because not only will they be amenable to a chat, they might introduce you to other people.
Your conversation gambit should always be phrased in such a way that it can’t be answered with a simple yes or no. It could be a general comment on something you and the stranger have just shared: the weather, the Mass you just worshipped at, the show you just saw, the lecture you just heard. Start with a general comment instead of a personal question (“I loved that Bach prelude. What did you think of it?”) because some people are nervous of direct personal questions from strangers. I would save such questions for later in the conversation.
Oh dear. In my mind’s eye, the kind-looking man has been called away from the tea-table.
“Uh, um, uh,” he says, looking around for someone for Desiree to talk to. “You should talk to Father. He’s around here somewhere...”
“Thank you,” says Desiree, smiling. “I will.”
And she scans the room looking for Father or anyone who looks like they might talk to her. She sees a thirty-something woman in a red coat standing with a knot of thirty-something men to whom she isn’t paying much attention. This woman is looking straight at Desiree, or rather, Desiree’s boots, her body is facing Desiree, and she is smiling. So Desiree screws up her courage into a ball and walks over to the smiling lady.
“Hello,” she says to the smiling lady, who is me.
“Hello,” I say. “I do like your boots.”
Bingo. Conversation number two. And because I was well brought up and Desiree hasn’t said anything to shock or annoy me, I will introduce Desiree to the men I’m not paying much attention to.
It is a good idea when you’re at a party not to talk to just the opposite sex and just people your own age. Women over 35 don’t like being invisible to younger people. Therefore, if a younger person approaches us for a chat, it’s usually quite nice.
You have to pick your lady though. Obviously one trying to keep three children from upsetting the teapot is too absorbed for chit-cat.
The crowd in the parish hall thins out. Desiree expresses a hope to the group that she sees them again next week and gets ready to go. She does not follow them out. One of the worst things you can do, when making new friends, is to cling. If a group of close friends are going somewhere, it may or may not be amenable to inviting a stranger along. If you are with a group, and someone brings up or hints at future plans, and their eyes are zipping around, and someone’s leg starts jiggling, it means that they are now uncomfortable. Say you hope you will see them again, and go.
Little does Desiree know this, but her nice appearance, her relative youth, her willingness to chat and her disappearance back into her own mysterious life for the week have not gone unnoticed by others around. When Desiree appears next Sunday, those who remember her look at her when she comes into the room.
And Desiree, looking around, sees a stranger at a table. His body language is relaxed and open: his hands are on the table, his arms are uncrossed, he is actually looking at Desiree with slightly raised eyebrows, and he gives a sort of smile. Desiree smiles back. She walks over and says, “Your parish has such beautiful Masses.”
“Yes, uh, it was, uh,” says the man. “Is, uh, this, uh. Um. Your first visit here?”
Bingo. Conversation.
I imagine that Desiree — for her name is Desiree — had a very bad few seconds as she stood in that doorway. It isn’t easy walking into a roomful of strangers, even a roomful of fellow Catholics in a parish hall. However, I didn’t notice nervousness when I pictured Desiree in the doorway. I just thought, “That girl looks great in that colour, and I really must get some boots like that.” And, Desiree, seeing what the parish herd was doing, immediately joined the herd activity and tossed out a conversation gambit.
At a small party, you should talk to someone, anyone, right away, especially if they look very relaxed and open, e.g.: not with their arms crossed (bored or angry), not jiggling their leg or their car keys (bored and dying to get away), not facing away towards another person or group (absorbed), because not only will they be amenable to a chat, they might introduce you to other people.
Your conversation gambit should always be phrased in such a way that it can’t be answered with a simple yes or no. It could be a general comment on something you and the stranger have just shared: the weather, the Mass you just worshipped at, the show you just saw, the lecture you just heard. Start with a general comment instead of a personal question (“I loved that Bach prelude. What did you think of it?”) because some people are nervous of direct personal questions from strangers. I would save such questions for later in the conversation.
Oh dear. In my mind’s eye, the kind-looking man has been called away from the tea-table.
“Uh, um, uh,” he says, looking around for someone for Desiree to talk to. “You should talk to Father. He’s around here somewhere...”
“Thank you,” says Desiree, smiling. “I will.”
And she scans the room looking for Father or anyone who looks like they might talk to her. She sees a thirty-something woman in a red coat standing with a knot of thirty-something men to whom she isn’t paying much attention. This woman is looking straight at Desiree, or rather, Desiree’s boots, her body is facing Desiree, and she is smiling. So Desiree screws up her courage into a ball and walks over to the smiling lady.
“Hello,” she says to the smiling lady, who is me.
“Hello,” I say. “I do like your boots.”
Bingo. Conversation number two. And because I was well brought up and Desiree hasn’t said anything to shock or annoy me, I will introduce Desiree to the men I’m not paying much attention to.
It is a good idea when you’re at a party not to talk to just the opposite sex and just people your own age. Women over 35 don’t like being invisible to younger people. Therefore, if a younger person approaches us for a chat, it’s usually quite nice.
You have to pick your lady though. Obviously one trying to keep three children from upsetting the teapot is too absorbed for chit-cat.
The crowd in the parish hall thins out. Desiree expresses a hope to the group that she sees them again next week and gets ready to go. She does not follow them out. One of the worst things you can do, when making new friends, is to cling. If a group of close friends are going somewhere, it may or may not be amenable to inviting a stranger along. If you are with a group, and someone brings up or hints at future plans, and their eyes are zipping around, and someone’s leg starts jiggling, it means that they are now uncomfortable. Say you hope you will see them again, and go.
Little does Desiree know this, but her nice appearance, her relative youth, her willingness to chat and her disappearance back into her own mysterious life for the week have not gone unnoticed by others around. When Desiree appears next Sunday, those who remember her look at her when she comes into the room.
And Desiree, looking around, sees a stranger at a table. His body language is relaxed and open: his hands are on the table, his arms are uncrossed, he is actually looking at Desiree with slightly raised eyebrows, and he gives a sort of smile. Desiree smiles back. She walks over and says, “Your parish has such beautiful Masses.”
Dorothy Cummings McLean