People Watching and People Appreciating

This summer, I’ve found myself in the minority more often than usual. It’s a different experience than my day-to-day life, where most people I encounter look and talk more or less like me. In these different environments, I was often guessing what was said, flexing my "go with the flow" muscles, and doing some fantastic people-watching. But what I saw wasn’t just a series of interesting moments—it was a collection of universal truths about love, family, and kindness. I’ve started calling it "people appreciating."

Here are a few moments that stood out to me:

The first was on a crowded beach. A grandson, walking backward, slowly guided his grandmother along the shore. His arms were outstretched, her hands gripping his with the confidence that he would keep her safe from falling. Their steps were both painstaking and sweet, a beautiful dance of trust and patience against the sound of the waves.

Then there was the owner of a small family restaurant, who worked in a dress, pearls, and heels. She was everywhere—greeting guests with a warm smile, issuing a quick order to some staff members, clearing tables, refilling wine glasses—a whirlwind of grace and hard work. She wore her elegance not for show, but as a part of who she was, and she looked absolutely fabulous.

I also saw a grandfather, traveling with his daughter and her family, with three children all under the age of five years old, loudly declared to his family and everyone nearby, but especially to some small, adorable ears, that these are the best kids in the whole wide world. He made sure to call attention to what good travelers they are in great detail, or as much detail as a toddler can understand.

There were also two elderly women, good friends who found each other later in life, traveling together and having the time of their lives. They were a walking party, making friends everywhere they went, their laughter and shared stories a testament to the fact that it's never too late for new adventures.

Then there’s the big brother taking care of his little sister so his parents could get some time alone. There were no complaints (well, mostly none). He simply did what was needed, his quiet responsibility a testament to a bond that runs deeper than words.

I also lost count of the mothers I saw acting as loving, living beds for their sleeping children. These small bodies, radiating more heat than any furnace, slept peacefully in the middle of a hot summer day while their moms navigated stairs, crowded spaces, and narrow walkways.

And then there was the Filipino chef who loudly sang Elvis Presley songs and other classics while he worked. He wasn’t just cooking; he was creating a joyful atmosphere, sharing his energy and humor to make people laugh and sing along, even though the songs weren't in his native tongue.

These glimpses into other people's lives served as a powerful reminder that we have more in common than we may think. Many of life’s most profound truths—the unconditional love of a family, the quiet dignity of hard work, the joy of a shared song—are universal. When we take the time to really see each other, we realize that kindness and care are spoken in every language and found in every corner of the world.