Misadventures in the city
By Beth Connors-Manke
Indianapolis, the 1980s: When I was younger, sometimes my dad would say, “Your mother made another friend today.” I have a big family, and few of us have the social skills necessary for intentionally making friends. We’re equal measures congenial, feisty, and reserved.
So, when my dad tells me that my mom “made a friend,” it means that some stranger in line at Kroger or between bolts at Jo-Ann Fabrics just started talking to my mom and wouldn’t stop. Being congenial yet reserved (she’s the least feisty of the bunch), my mom listens and sometimes adds a few comments.