I’m back.

Hi strangers. It has been quite a while. I don’t know where this particular post will go. I just know I’ve been feeling a pull to write for some time now. I’ve also been ignoring it for some time now.

But, tonight, I decided to open my laptop and let my fingers play on the keyboard without reservation, without a plan.

A little over a week ago, my husband and I were invited to a dinner party at a neighbor’s home. We don’t know this neighbor exceptionally well, but we’ve known him for years through the local art community. We typically see him at the local pub having a pint, and we will sit to have one with him. He’s such a friendly Englishman and a little eccentric (but most creatives are).

Before we officially met, I’d run by his house and admire the thick, lush garden full of spring and summer flowers. Not one piece of grass in the front yard. Just beautiful flowers and bushes sprinkled with brightly painted yard art made from repurposed materials. It really screams whimsical and boho-chic. I was intrigued by the residents who lived there before I ever met them. Then, one lucky day, my husband and I were walking by while he was working in the yard. We all said hello and a conversation ensued. Turns out this Englishman was a saddler and had participated in a local art show alongside my husband. We learned he had a partner with health issues, and he enjoyed creating ceramics too. Months later, he invited us to his property and gave us a tour of the two studios he built in his backyard. They were as whimsical and boho-chic as the front yard. And, the backyard, was a paradise of thick plants, a koi pond, and brightly painted (and repurposed) furniture. There was a feeling of zen and coziness and acceptance.

Over the last few years, we’d always say hello and converse if we saw him out and about in the neighborhood. And, over time, we have slowly built a friendship. Occasionally, we’ll run into him at the local pub and have a pint together. He’s one of those people who welcomes you into his life, never apologizes for being who he is, and embraces you for who you are. A couple of years ago, his partner passed away. Then, his two dogs, who were always with him, passed away too. Now, he’s a single Englishman with a new dog. And, though I’ve never heard him say it, I know he must feel lonely without the love of his life living alongside him anymore, and his closest relatives living in England.

We arrived at his dinner party a week or so ago with side dishes in hand as requested. He greets us with a smile and a hug and offers up a beer while we await the other guests. Eventually, all the guests arrive. They all know each other. We are the only two who do not know any of the other guests. He tells us there’s one rule. Couples can’t sit next to each other for the duration of the dinner party. The point of the dinner party is to mingle with everyone and get to know new people. We obliged.

At this dinner party, there was one other married couple. The wife was Greek. The husband, American. She is a poet and fictional writer but makes a living editing technical writing for a large corporation. She also played, and maybe still plays, tennis competitively. Her husband was quiet. I didn’t really get to know much about him except that he (they) love cats, and he has a niece with autism.

Everyone else was single.

There was a young lady from Alabama in attendance. She’s an engineer and moved to the area about a year ago. She met the Englishman and his friends at the local pub, and like he embraced us, he embraced her and invited her to a dinner party. She was glad she showed up to the first one and now attends regularly. She also referred to herself as a “redneck” and enjoys hiking, backpacking, and live music. Someone I’d like to get to know better and potentially go hiking with. Because, well, I love nature and hiking.

There was a single mom in attendance. Her parents are Indian…making her Indian as well…and she referred to herself as a “towel head.” She fostered cats and shared a cat story with my husband. I didn’t have an opportunity to talk to her one-on-one, but she was a friendly and kind person.

There was another lady about my age who was from Turkey. She and I chatted a lot and laughed a lot. We had similar quirks and mothers with similar quirks. She was opinionated and honest, and I really enjoyed our conversation. It was so fun learning about her life, which was so incredibly different than mine, but also finding so many common experiences and interests.

Then, there was a man from Uganda. He is an author, public speaker, and professional tennis coach. When he was younger, he played professional tennis internationally and overcame incredible odds. He grew up in the jungle of Uganda where he walked 15 miles (one way) to school barefoot. At age 13, he got his first pair of shoes. War ravaged his community, and he watched one of his siblings and his best friend die in front of him because of war. He referred to himself as a “black neck.”

And, before, we get all butt hurt about the “racist” name calling – don’t. These are words that came from their mouths, and in the context of the conversation, no one was offended and everyone laughed. It’s just proof of how safe everyone felt.

I learned a lot about Uganda and the jungle animals. Not much scares a man in the American wilderness after living in the jungle of Uganda where everyone carries a very sharp machete with them for protection. Never knowing when they may be confronted with a lion or a militant.

At this dinner party, I didn’t do very much talking about me. I mostly listened soaking in all the cultural differences, life experiences, religious beliefs, political opinions, and senses of humor. I felt grateful for the opportunity and look forward to the next dinner party.

One unapologetic, friendly Englishman brought all of us together. The melting pot of differences. I remember being a young girl sitting in my “backwoods” Georgia classroom hearing America called “the melting pot” because of the multitude of cultures and races living together, and believe it or not, I remember my teachers talking about this with pride. It is something I took to heart and believed was a beautiful thing even though the town I grew up in was not what I’d refer to as a melting pot.

When I got home that night, I reflected on my day and smiled. My day was full of people who looked like me and balanced with people who didn’t look like me, think like me, believe like me, or even live like me. Then, I started thinking about the friends I’ve had throughout the years, and though I wish there was more diversity, I am happy that there was diversity, especially being a Southern gal in a Southern world. I see the “melting pot” of America throughout my friendships over the last 40 years, and I am grateful for them. I am a better human because of them. And, I am sure as hell more compassionate and wiser because of them too.

Be like the Englishman and bring people together.

Be a good human to other humans.