Looking at the Ocean

One of my favorite things is people-watching; observing people, especially strangers. It’s endlessly fascinating. Also just watching. 

Airports are a particularly rich ground for this occupation. In a major hub like Atlanta, New York or Chicago, it is very gratifying. You are as likely to see a farmer in a baseball cap from the Midwest as a lovely, dark-skinned woman in a colorful sari. It’s quite amazing what you can discern from close observation. You can often tell how others feel about traveling, at least in that moment. A haggard mother with a year-and-half-year old and another one on the way can’t wait for it to be over. A mysterious, dark-haired beauty, once stunning now simply striking, looks as if she doesn’t have a care. She could be an accountant for all I know, but she looks like an aging, Sophia Loren-type movie star. Or a spy.

I’ve enjoyed people-watching since I was a little girl. I grew up in a mid-sized, southern town. My mother and I (sometimes my sister and brothers would join us) would simply park on Main Street and watch people walk by. Sometimes we had an ice-cream cone or a lemonade.

This seems a lost pastime in the world of computers, laptops, ipads and cell phones. No one even looks up from their devices these days. It’s a real shame. They miss so much. It’s wonderful to observe your fellow humans. After all, they created everything you are looking at, or the ability to look at it. I miss those Main Street days. It was quiet, with quiet conversation and laughter.

One way I have partially recovered those days is by parking in a random spot and just watching traffic go by and having coffee with a friend. We used to call it “looking at the ocean.” I still do, living somewhat land-locked. Again, my mother’s idea. She coined the phrase. What a lovely way to get that quiet. It’s not time lost. It’s time gained. It’s not so much what you are doing, it’s the being present. Being still enough to observe. I sometimes wonder about all my lost time, looking at my phone.