By Butch Freedman
I was not into it at first. Seemed overly friendly, even intrusive. I mean, you don’t do that with strangers, do you? My wife, Bev, did. She was fully into it, had been for a long time, she told me. I shuddered. It didn’t feel right to me. Maybe it was my big-city wariness—maybe something else, more personal. Maybe I was just too uptight.
It took a while, but I finally came around. I couldn’t hold back any longer. In fact just the other day, I found myself doing it over and over—a couple times in the car. Once on the beach, twice just walking down the street where anybody could see. It felt good.
Yes, I have become a waver. If you live in a small town, you know what I mean. We wave at people, hand up, fluttering in the air. Or if driving, a simple raising of the hand off the steering wheel, a recognition of the driver coming toward you, who you may or may not know. And, though a small gesture, I admit now, it does make one feel, dare I say it, happy. A symbol of friendliness, openness, acceptance. I think we need all of that we can get in these troubled and divisive times. It’s hard to hate on someone you exchange a wave with.
Bev’s a really good waver, a true aficionado of the open-hand, always delivered with a bright smile. And she is indiscriminate in her use of the wave. She welcomes all — even summer people. I am still more reserved in my use. I withhold the wave at times, especially if I don’t recognize the recipient. But I’m getting better. On my solitary beach walks, I will often throw a wave at a fellow traveler, even when they are unknown to me and some distance away. Once I get their attention it is rare that they don’t wave back. Two strangers on a stretch of the Pacific ocean on a rainy day, we acknowledge each other’s existence and the pleasure we are taking in our stroll. Connection, no matter how limited and transitory.
I’m also getting better at the car-wave. This is an important one, but it happens fast and you have to be quick to get the hand up there—especially difficult if a coffee cup is involved. It’s best to not wait to fully recognize the other driver, go ahead and wave. What does it matter if you’re waving at someone you don’t know? When I bought a new car last year, I made sure to get one in a distinctive color (Surf Blue it’s called). Now a lot of my friends and neighbors quickly recognize my car, so the waves come quickly. (As a side note here, too many vehicles these days all look alike, and the colors tend toward the grays and browns and whites, hard to distinguish one from the other. Blah.)
So look, I’m glad I came around, if a bit hesitantly. I won’t claim that I’m all in, but far enough so that I’m likely averaging 4 or 5 solid waves a day. Not bad. And, yes, I feel just a touch better after each one, each moment of connection. It reminds me that we’re all in this human comedy together. And I know that sounds sappy, but I’ve reached a point of embracing and valuing my own sappiness. All praise to the wave.