> SOUTHERN INDIANA — I was speaking with a co-worker recently and talked about having met someone in the course of my work. I told him that after a few times of talking, that gentlemen and I had become friends. My co-worker then said to me, “Dodd, isn’t that what you do with everybody?”

When I thought about that response later, I felt pretty good about it. In a way, I have always thought of myself in that manner. I have usually referred to myself half-jokingly as a people person. This hasn’t just been a phenomenon in my, shall I say, “maturing” years. As I thought back to my high school days I have always liked a varied and eclectic mix of friends.

My 17-year-old son often laments when we have to go to a grocery store or other public place for what I refer to as a “quick” trip. Cameron knows all too well that before we leave the first couple of aisles I will either see someone I know or possibly strike up an impromptu conversation with a cashier, stock boy or manager.

It’s my nature. I really don’t think I can fight that urge.

Sometimes it’s one of those serendipitous things like someone who recognizes me from the picture on this column or overhears my name and asks, “Are you that Lindon Dodd who writes for the newspaper?”

I am serious about that exact wording, as the word “that” is like some kind of grammatical qualifier for my name; that Lindon Dodd. It’s kind of like that is another person separate from me.

What really gets to Cameron is that he is almost the exact opposite of me and very shy, unassuming and introverted. More often than not — since I have written about him and my wife Kim for going on 18 years — he is sometimes asked if he is “that” Cameron. He absolutely hates being dragged into a conversation with a stranger.

Call it a father’s subtle revenge, but I always enjoy watching him be polite and accommodating when I know his insides are reeling with that very uncomfortable feeling. It’s kind of his cross to bear being my son. His mother has learned to live with it over the years.

But that didn’t always come easy.

My favorite example of such an encounter happened at Kroger in Jeffersonville many years back. I was tired and had not slept well the night before. It had been a long, hard day at work. We were on our way home from somewhere that I probably didn’t want to have been and I was perhaps just a bit cranky; OK, I was being a horse’s patoot! Every long-time, happily married person reading this knows what kind of loving Kodak moment we were experiencing.

I know it’s hard for people to believe, but I have my moods. Kim wanted to stop at the grocery and I just wanted to go home. We were having what I will describe as an animated and not so loving verbal exchange in the car. She won (surprise, surprise) and as we went into Kroger, I was not in the best of moods.

While I won’t totally agree with her appraisal, she might insinuate that I was pouting just a bit. Suffice it to say, we were at that husband-and-wife stage of walking together but not really sharing the moment.

As I walked around the store expressly not interacting with her, I noticed the cutest little elderly couple. I looked up a couple of times and saw one or both of them staring at me. At this point, I was still being a bit moody.

At first, I didn’t think anything but we made eye contact several times and in different aisles. It was as if we were being followed. Finally, I just walked over to them and introduced myself.

In a very sweet and unassuming manner the elderly lady asked, “Are you that Lindon Dodd that writes for the newspaper?” I assured her I was and she told me that the first thing they read every Sunday was my column.

It is always such a humbling thing, and quite honestly I am a bit embarrassed and usually no matter how I respond it seems to come out a bit awkward. Humility and modesty are probably not my strongest suits (surprise, surprise!).

At this point, Kim had walked away and continued to do her aisle-to-aisle search for grocery items. As she came out from the next aisle where we were I called her over. I introduced her and they said nice things about reading my column to her, which always kind of gets to her because she will then express her concern about how I won’t be able to get my head through the car door for the drive home.

After a few, and what were for me very enjoyable moments, we kind of wrapped up the conversation, which was littered with giggling, laughing and congenial conversation between the elderly couple and me.

I was very charming and had made a couple of new friends and just like that I was in a great mood. Kim excused herself and walked over to the checkout line. I joined her and we walked out to the car. She didn’t say much as she glared at me for a couple of moments.

In a rhetorical and obviously mocking interrogatory, I simply said, “What?” She responded with something like, “Now, aren’t we just all of a sudden little Mr. Happy Pants?”

If only looks could kill.

Yes, I guess some of us are just people persons.

— Lindon Dodd is a freelance writer who can be reached at lindon.dodd@hotmail.com