This week, when I asked neighbors, friends, and family to share a snippet of good news, their first reaction was always a glassy-eyed stare — not so much deer-in-the-headlights as Wile E. Coyote suspecting he’d stepped off a cliff. Because today, when you hear “news,” just about the last word you associate with it is “good.” People seemed to be wondering if this was some sort of trick.
“I read about a woman in New York City who went around with a sign like this,” I’d explain. “I thought it was an idea worth stealing.”
“I got so fed up with doomscrolling,” said social media consultant Megan Keaveny, “that I was down to try anything to spread some goodness in any way that I could get my hands on.”
Megan stood in Central Park and on subway platforms recording TicToc videos. Being more of a written-word person, I widened my search with emails and Zoom calls, then went and stood in front of supermarkets and a post office, taking notes. Just about everyone seemed delighted to share something.
“The pair of Mallards returned to our creek to rear their fluffy yellow babies.”
“I learned how to make braciole — rolled thin steak. You stuff it with bread crumbs and onions and cheese, and you roll it up, and you brown it, and then you tie it with string, and put it in tomato sauce and cook it for a long, long, long, long time.”
“Don’t eat the string,” she reminded her husband as she served the braciole. “Can I floss with it?” he asked. Photo: Cuisine Fiend
“My Irish-music-playing friends and I got a new gig in a pub.”
“I run Zoom kindness circles every month and we network and create kindness together.”
“Our kids and grandkids are all healthy, they’re all good folks. We live in a cozy little cottage with our kids and grandkids all living in a few blocks. Our business has been very healthy, thankfully. So if you’re looking for good news, here’s a guy named Don, that’s D O N, who has plenty.”
“I started a safe haven for animals sanctuary.”
“I got a port implanted in my chest, which makes monthly infusions more comfortable.”
“Ukraine is doing surprisingly well, and they’re going to do better because of Orbán being out of the out of the loop.”
“My dog. He’s a Democrat and he doesn’t talk back.”
For days I’ve been caught up in a whirlpool of positive stories, far too many to include here. Only one guy had a negative reaction. “If I told you some good news, would you trust me? Because do you really believe anything you hear anymore?” He stomped off into the supermarket. A few minutes later, his shopping done, he pulled up in his car. “Wait, I do have some good news. It’s asparagus season!” He grinned, waved, and drove off.
This is why I love talking to strangers; they so often surprise me. Sadly, the art of random conversation is fast being replaced by an impenetrable shield of “social inattention.”
A case in point: I wanted to interview this 4H teenager (and his pigs) at the Sacramento County Fair in 2023, but he never looked up from his phone.
“It has become very easy to avoid talking to strangers,” Melissa Kirsch wrote in the NY Times. “Noise-canceling headphones, internet shopping, self-checkout lines and, when all else fails, our phones — taken out at a bar, a party, a concert — insulate us against humanity’s intrusion….Most of us are thinking about ourselves, about the potential embarrassment that would arise from making an overture to a stranger.”
I know reaching out can feel awkward, but when you come right down to it, what’s the risk? Usually the worst that can happen is that you’re trapped for a few moments listening to someone you don’t like yammering on about subjects you don’t want to talk about. I’ve developed a few good tricks for dealing with sticky situations like that, and (you might want to take notes here) I’m ready to pass on my hard-earned wisdom.
The quick and easy fix: I invent an urgent Zoom call or an emergency message on my phone and make a hasty retreat.
But if you can’t get out of it that easily — for instance, when you’re stuck next to them at a wedding — then your best move is to derail the conversation. The second they pause for breath, you jump in with, “I heard they’re moving Area 51. Know anything about that?”
If they’re not up on pop culture conspiracy theories, they’ll ask, “What’s Area 51?” Then you explain that it’s the top secret military installation in the Nevada desert where the government is hiding crashed spacecraft, alien bodies, and extraterrestrial technology in underground labs. I can tell you from personal experience this will get you all the way to the cutting of the cake.
Or they’ll ask, “How the hell do you move a top secret facility like that?” The ensuing speculation can take you right through the rice-throwing farewell.
The other worry about talking to strangers is the risk of saying something embarrassingly inappropriate and then having to spend the rest of the evening walking it back. Rich and I have come up with a way of dealing with this that we call the Beastly Spasm Rule.
It was inspired by the famous sleuth Lord Peter Wimsey, who once made a mildly regrettable remark to Harriet, his love interest. He instantly retracted it, saying, “I beg your pardon. It was a beastly spasm. Won’t happen again.”
Lord Peter Whimsey, inventor of the Beastly Spasm Rule, and Harriet Vane
This gracefully defined the moment as a personal lapse — a reflection of his own failings, not Harriet’s. Now, when one of us utters an inappropriate or unfair remark, Rich and I have a standing agreement that it can be expunged by saying, “Sorry. Beastly spasm.” It’s a sort of linguistic “no harm, no foul” ruling. We don’t mention it again.
And by the time you’ve explained all that to your new acquaintance, they will likely have forgotten all about your embarrassingly inappropriate remark. If not, see the paragraph above re: fake Zoom calls and emergency phone messages. And if the encounter is truly hideous, let your thoughts dwell on all the fun you’ll have later in the pub, telling the story to friends.
A night out with friends is always more fun if you have a juicy story to share.
“Stories,” said author Madeleine L’Engle, “make us more alive, more human, more courageous, more loving.” After spending an afternoon collecting upbeat stories, I was feeling all that and more as I popped into the market to pick up groceries for supper. In the checkout line, I ran into an acquaintance, mentioned what I’d been up to, and asked if she had any good news.
“Yes,” she said. “I just got back from Napa. I was there with a girlfriend who had just finished wrapping up her mother’s estate. Her mom made her promise that when the estate work was all done, she and a friend — a friend, not her husband — would go away for a spa weekend. We spent two days getting spa services, drinking good wine, and telling fond stories about her mom.” Now that’s my kind of memorial.
“I want to build spaces,” said Megan Keaveny, “for us to take deep breaths together and learn to celebrate one another as human beings again.” The best way I know to build those spaces is by sharing our stories with one another. So let’s get going. Use the comments section below to tell me your good news!
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