in which I use caps locks generously.

Today was a gem.

And now I feel all shiny and gem-like because of it.

I got to go mail a package at the post office. And listen to a mostly-deaf man try to listen to a post office employee tell him how much it will cost to mail the package he was sending.

“Eleven dollars, sir,” she said.
“HOW MUCH?” the man asked.
“Eleven dollars, sir!” the girl repeated, this time louder.
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” shouted the man.
So the lady raised her voice even higher, “ELEVEN DOLLARS!”

“Well, you don’t have to sound so nervous,” said the man, having finally heard her. “And why is it so darn expensive?”

“I AM NOT NERVOUS,” said the lady, “I AM SIMPLY TRYING TO MAKE IT SO THAT YOU CAN HEAR ME, SO I HAVE TO RAISE MY VOICE. AND IT’S EXPENSIVE BECAUSE YOU WANT A PACKAGE TO GET TO CALIFORNIA BY CHRISTMAS. WHICH IS SUNDAY. AND WE’RE IN NEW YORK.”

It was quite a display, let me tell you.

And then, Shane and I played Brooklyn tonight. It was a blast. A lot of people came out–which never ceases to throw my heart into this posture of gratitude and humility.

And while waiting for the L train, there was a musician playing and singing and stuff. He spotted my ukulele at one point, and just said, “Come on, then. Play us a song.”

So I did. And people started gathering around and cheering and throwing dollars into the guy’s case (thinking it was mine). It was surreal. When I finished, the musician guy gave me a cd. “I can have it?” I asked. “For free?”

“Well, you earned me some money tonight,” he said, indicating his case. “So, it’s not really free now, is it?”

And then, once on the train, this kind guy I later found out is named Bryan, lent me his tuner after watching me try and try to tune my uke by ear. So then we got into a conversation. Actually, I got into a conversation with Bryan and his friend, Joe.

“Where are you from?” Bryan asks me.
“Pennsylvania.”
“What part of Pennsylvania,” says Joe, sounding interested now.
“Landenberg,” I say, quietly; ready to explain to him just where, exactly, Landenberg actually is.
“NOW WAY!” says Joe. “I grew up in Landenberg!”
“You did not!” I say. “There were only about five of us, and I was led to believe that most of them were my family.”

So then, as you can well imagine, we talked about both of our hometown. We talked about it lovingly. I told him he was family.

“You know where Elbow lane is?” Joe asks.
“Of course! Right down the road from my parents’ house.”
“I’m going there for Christmas…”

And so, in conclusion: The World is a very small town, actually, with a population of: everybody. People are kind and generous. And singing songs is just about the best way to while away an evening that I can think of.