GREENVILLE, N.C. — According to Gomer Pyle, you never know what makes a man grumpy. It might be that he's just gotten a haircut "and them little hairs is stickin' in the back of his neck."
Whenever someone doesn't return a greeting or is otherwise unfriendly, I think of that line from "The Andy Griffith Show." But unlike Gomer and his childlike optimism, I don't always wait as long as I should for an unsociable person to come around.
I cross paths almost daily with a man who seems about as grumpy as they come. I say hello and he says nothing.
"How you doing today?" I try next.
Nothing. Not even a nod.
One day he was reading a newspaper. "What's the good news?" I asked.
Silence.
Nobody gets that many haircuts, so I considered that he might be from another country and doesn't speak our language. Then one day I witnessed him trading perfectly understandable English with one of his co-workers, and in a manner that made it obvious he was not hard of hearing.
So I gave up. I went for weeks without uttering a word to the man, which was awkward at times when we were the only two humans around.
I've never mentioned that guy to my mother, but she told me a story recently that caused me to rethink my reaction to his lack of warmth.
I was at my parents' home and asked mom if the small house down the road was still occupied. A man lived there for many years, but mom said he passed away some time ago.
She reminded me about how the man was often out working in his garden as we drove past in our cars.
"Don't you remember," she asked, "how he would stand up and lean on his hoe, but wouldn't wave?"
I do remember. We would wave at him, but he never waved back or even smiled. Just watched us go by, and then went back to his work.
I also remember that I eventually stopped waving. A friendly gesture from me obviously meant nothing to him.
But my parents were undeterred by his apparent snubs. For years, they'd drive by and throw up a hand when the man looked over.
"We always wondered why he didn't wave back," Mom said. "We still don't know. But one day your daddy and I were out working in the yard, and here he came walking up the driveway carrying a basket of strawberries from his garden."
They thanked him and introduced themselves, but the reclusive neighbor did not stay to chat.
"You folks always speak to me," the man simply said before turning and walking back to his home.
"Sometimes you just can't tell what a person has in their heart," my mother said.
So I'm back to speaking to the one who never speaks. No eye-contact yet, but he recently grunted out an "all right" in response to a "Hi, how are ya?"
That might not seem like a lot of progress, but it can take years to work up to a basket of strawberries.
Mark Rutledge writes for The Daily Reflector in Greenville, N.C. E-mail mrutledge AT coxnc.com
