Have you ever been to a meeting or seminar at which the facilitator asks everyone to introduce themselves, tell where they are from and then tell everyone something they may not know about you? Introductions go around the horn something like this: Hi, I’m Stephanie and I live off Hopkins Road and something you don’t know about me is I love animals; Hello, my name is Frank and I’ve lived my entire life on Woodpecker Road and woodworking is my passion.

Sometimes when I’m listening to these types of introductions, waiting on my turn, I fantasize about the secret something that I might reveal about myself, something that might include Michele Pfeiffer or air guitar. Then I blurt it out – I eavesdrop. Who doesn’t, right? You’re sitting there at a restaurant and the people at the table next you are talking so loud you know they must have turned their hearing aids off. OK, I tell everyone at my table to shush, so I can hear the folks at the other table a little clearer.

Recently, I was at a restaurant in Meadowbrook, I mean Ettrick, no Chester, when I overheard two ladies talking about politics, local happenings and sewing. I was even able to pick up on their names as they went along. Their conversation was pretty interesting.

“You know women don’t sew as much as they used to,” Sharon said. “My mother used to make a lot of clothes for my sister and me.”

“Well, it’s probably because you can buy clothes almost as cheaply as you can buy the material to make them,” Karen replied.

“I guess that’s part of it, but when my mother made clothes for Kathy and I, it was like there was a certain amount of her in every dress or blouse that she made. We always felt like she was with us when we wore the clothes she made,” Sharon said, the admiration she held for her mother obvious in the tone of her voice.

“But, everyone doesn’t have the talent that it takes to make clothes. My two kids would mutiny if I tried to get them to wear something I’d made. My nurturing gene is better used shopping after I get off work,” Karen chortled.

“And the more you work the more they take, the kids, school fees, taxes ….”

“I know, and now we have to pay to have our recycling picked up?” Sharon questioned.

“You know, I really believe in recycling and can’t understand why, when I’m doing the supposed right thing, I should be penalized for it,” Karen said, the annoyance obvious in her voice.

“Why wouldn’t they make the people who don’t recycle pay, not the ones who do?”

“Everyone has to pay, don’t they?” Sharon said, though it was almost inaudible because she had just taken a bite of salad.

“Well yeah, everyone pays, but I don’t think I should have to.”

“If you’re going to have a service that makes you feel good for doing what you think is right, don’t worry about the ones who don’t recycle, just be proud of what you’re doing to help the planet, save the county some money and keep more trash from filling up the landfill,” Sharon said, wiping some salad dressing away with her napkin.

“You know, you aggravate me,” Karen said, laughing. “You’re always right and know just how to make sense of things. But, so what about all these other fees we have to pay and not getting some of the services we used to get from the county, not to mention the libraries being closed on Thursdays now?”

I could hear Sharon sigh as she prepared her answer. “Well, talk to you state representatives, they shorted the counties, they could have done a better job of balancing their budget, but instead chose to divert the hardship to localities. Think about that next time you see an incumbent on the ballot.”

“Oh, I don’t vote, I couldn’t be bothered,” Karen said dismissing the suggestion. “Are you picking up the check or are we splitting?”

Disclaimer: I don’t really fantasize about Michele Pfeiffer or play air guitar while alone. Eavesdrop? Well, maybe.