The Kindness of Strangers

I knew that I would see Regina differently when I returned with a baby. I imagined that I would now notice playgrounds, and sidewalks lacking corner ramps. I would seldom see Bushwakkers, but I would swim in an outdoor pool for the first time in years. I didn't predict the major difference I found as a new mother: being ignored.

Canada supposedly has a reputation for friendliness, but we found that The South really is the friendly place it is reputed to be. In Regina, I was used to looking over people's heads when standing in line, sitting on a bus, or waiting in a restaurant. I enjoyed the fact that interactions with service personnel were brief and impersonal. I never learned small talk.

In The South, out with my baby, every possible category of person would talk to us, smile at the baby, even touch him. This was done in such a way that I didn't even feel our personal space was being invaded. On a typical outing, an old Mexican abuelo would tickle the baby then help me on the bus with my grocery bags. An Asian college student would offer me his seat (and I'd refuse - it got to be a joke between us as we often took the same bus); once seated, the sorority girls would flirt with the baby and he'd smile and coo. A young black man would compliment me on his crocheted hat, and a white business-type would ask me where I got the baby carrier and if the mom who made it at home would like marketing advice. If the baby ever fussed, strangers would come forward to sing to him.

It got so that the baby expected people to look at him and smile. If he sat on the bus near someone who was ignoring him, he would coo at them. If they didn't look (which was rare), he'd tilt his head to one side and coo louder: "Aaaaa!" They would invariably look, and smile.

When I arrived in Regina in May, my first social appearance was at Smitty's. Smitty's was full of elderly people, whom I had come to assume were all surrogate grandparent wannabees. As we waited for a friend to arrive, the baby stood on the seat and looked over the back at the array of strangers. He smiled. He cooed. He cooed loudly. No one even turned their heads to look.

It was shocking. I was shocked. The baby was nonplussed. And now, three months later, he no longer coos at strangers. He is no longer the first to smile when he sees someone. And I am once more rehabituated to ignoring strangers and having them ignore me. But now, I know what I'm missing.