Ron

I was in San Francisco for a week of professional meeting in mid December. I stayed at the historic Hotel Renoir on the corner of Market Street and McAllister. It was a 7-storey, colonial style, 2-star hotel, comparatively cheap for downtown area. The amenities were old but still clean. Every evening I had to walk though some adult entertainment business back to my hotel. In the morning the district was bright and busy. There was a Brazilian restaurant connected to the hotel on the ground level. I had lunch there one day and liked the environment and the food. Thursday morning I went back a second time for breakfast.

There was a long bench seat next to the wall, and a row of tables with them. I sat down at one. Only a couple of people were there. I ordered my breakfast and took out my books and diary to work. I liked dining by myself when I have books to read, and diary to write.

Then there came a man into the restaurant through the hotel door. He looked around and decided to sit right next to me on the bench. I was afraid that he would try to talk to me. I smiled at him and then kept to my diary.

He made his food and then turned to me saying, "Hello!" Now it would be impolite for me to ignore him, since we were the only customers in the restaurant. I set down my notebook and replied, "Hello!"

He had a strange accent. I was worried that it might be that cockney accent from London, because I had a difficult time making conversation with one traveler last summer when I was in China. He was 50ish, and his skin was red and weathered as if he had worked as a labor under the sun all his life. He wore a blue shirt and dark pants with suspension belts, and I thought he must be a peasant from some countryside. His voice was deep and sincere.

He was from Canberra, Australia. This is his first trip to San Francisco. His daughter now lived in Los Angeles. He came to visit her, and decided to see San Francisco. He would be here for a few days. The only other cities he had been to were New York City and San Diego. He lived in Canberra all his life. He asked about my origins. It must be difficult to explain to a hillbilly about Beijing, Hong Kong, Caltech, Michigan, and the American Geophysical Union conference. I simply said I was here for a conference.

I asked him where he had done in San Francisco. He told me he had seen the usual sights, and was planning to see the fisherman's wharf and some other famous sights that day. "Do you take the bus? The bus system here is very good. I went to the Haight area yesterday." I said.

He had been taking the organized tours, the double deck buses without top. He thought San Francisco was very lovely. "Did you see the city hall? It was so grand!" He was talking about the civil center right next to our hotel. It wasn't a famous San Francisco sight, and very few tourists had been there. He told me he just strolled around but he didn't realize the bus was so convenient to go around. I was impressed that he was adventurous enough to take a grey hound bus to San Francisco and then saw the city with curiosity of a youth.

He told me his name was Ron, and asked for my name. He wanted to suggest that we see the city together, but I said I had to go to my meeting, and I wished him a great time in San Francisco. He looked happy and gay.

The next day was my last day in San Francisco. I came down for a last breakfast, because the food there was really good! Just as I sat down, Ron came again, and he was so happy to see me. He sat right next to me and I had to put away my Christmas greeting cards again. He had the same suspension belts on.

"How are you dong?" He was happy. We were like old friends. The waiter was smiling at us. I must be the only person in the whole city of San Francisco that Ron had really talked to. I used my usual probing tact and asked about his life. He opened up to me.

My wife died two years ago, so I have been alone. We have three daughters. The two older daughters live in Australia. The youngest daughter is a cancer doctor. After she graduated from school, (she got a Ph.D. in medicine) a company in America wanted her to work with them. They came to Australia to get her. She didn't really want to leave, but they paid her lots of money, and also paid to move her out here, and gave her a big house. She had been here for 3 years, in Los Angeles. I am here to visit her.

I was curious. How old is your daughter?

Hmm, 39, 38, and the youngest was born in 1971. Oh, then she is my age! I exclaimed. And Ron is old enough to be my father.

How was your visit yesterday? Did you make any friends? I always find it easy to make friends when I travel alone.

It was OK. But everyone on the tour was with someone. They were always in couples, and they just talked to themselves. A few times I wanted to talk to someone, but they only said a few words and then went to talk to their partner. It was very difficult to see all of them together with someone. I really miss my wife.

Have you been seeing other women? I was more curious.

Once when I was in Australia traveling, I met a girl at a dinner party, and we had a good conversation. Later we went dancing. That was a lot of fun. Do you have any plan tonight for dinner?

I knew he wanted to have dinner with me. I did not want to give him false hope for friendship. Not only I did not find him attractive, I have just met the love of my life 3 weeks ago and I had no desire for any other romance. That evening my boss had plans to have dinner with me and introduce me to a great scientist. Although I knew the dinner with my boss would be stressful, I didn't want to miss the opportunity to meet the scientist I had always wanted to meet for 4 years. So I told Ron that I had other plans, and if he wanted, I could bring my boss to this Brazilian restaurant and we could all chat. I knew my boss was also alone in the city and he wanted my company as well. He was also an old man. I knew probably they would not click, but for desperate old men, what else could I do???

Ron said he would be here for dinner, and if I could come he would be very honored. I said I had to come back to fetch my luggage anyway, so at least I could say goodbye to him.

My boss of course did not want to meet with another old man, a tourist from Australian. He liked fine dining and wine and nice restaurant. He found the other scientist and we decided to have dinner together at a fancy restaurant downtown. It was a good dinner and I forgot all about Ron until I went back to my hotel to fetch my luggage. I felt bad that I had missed him.

I went by the restaurant and did not see Ron there. I was both relieved and disappointed. He must have been waiting for me and was disappointed. He so much wanted some human connection! As I was waiting by the checkout counter, Ron came. I felt so guilty. He was happy although obviously hurt.

I waited for you. You didn't come. -- I had to dine with my boss and another colleague, I explained. My boss is here waiting for me. Oh, that's alright. –- Hey, Ron, I don't have much time, but if you give me your address I could send you a post card to keep in touch. I wish I had more time but we are running late.

He was excited. He asked the clerk for a pen and a piece of paper, and carefully, slowly, he printed his name and the address of his Los Angeles daughter. My boss was impatient, and I knew he was jealous. He did not know why I would even bother to exchange address with a stranger from the other side of the world, a stranger I met in a strange city. I felt I was torn between two lonely old men. I pretended I was patient as I watched Ron finished his address. He wanted to talk to me more. He must have been waiting the whole day for a conversation with me. Sorry I have to go.

He gave me a hug and off I went. He watched me and waved. I wonder how much he believed that I would send him a note.

Sometimes I do strange things. I wrote a card to Ron at his daughter's address, and with the card I inserted a picture of me from China on a boat from last summer, just in case Ron did not remember who I was. I considered my duty of chance friendship was finished.

A couple of weeks later I got a letter from Ron. He was so happy to get my letter, and he sent me a few pictures of him with his late wife, and also pictures of his daughter and grandchildren. He told me of the rest of his trip. He wished me best luck.

I went on with my life, but another few weeks later I got another letter from Ron. This time he wrote passionately about many things. He bought a big map of America, and of Michigan. He found out the latitudes of Michigan to be similar to New York and San Francisco. He found the shapes of the Great Lakes. He thought my picture was taken on the Great Lake. He was dreaming about seeing the Lakes. He imagined my life here and the weather. He even had a map of Ann Arbor, and he found my street (because he had my mailing address), and imagined how I would go to the Lakes from my Thayer apartment. He wrote about this and that....

My whole idea of the project "World, Peopled‚” started when I walked away from Ron that last morning. I thought about the many people in the world, and how many we could meet but how many we would really get to know. How desperate everyone wants to make connection with other people? Why are we so busy living yet we ignore a most important aspect of human life-—a life connected and shared with others.

But what am I going to do with Ron? And with those many others that I have met during my travels, when I was in a rare mood to approach the lonely souls and to pry open their heart, and to listen to their stories, and to give them false hope of true human connections? Then when my fancy is over I try to forget these people, while deep down in my heart I always have these people, looking eager to me, waiting, and feeling hopeful and hurt. And the purposes of these people are not for me to collect writing materials, or to illustrate the way of life. But what am I to do!

I know at least I will devote some of my time to write them down, to keep their stories alive, and hopefully someone else will read these, and find a connection somewhere somehow. And through me and my words, perhaps some of us could feel that we are not lonely, even just for a moment.

first draft: 3/30/2005 DTW