Smile

This may be my first blog where the picture doesn’t exactly match my story. Well, that’s because it felt a little too weird even to me to ask a stranger if I could get a picture of him smiling as he walked down the sidewalk. Don’t think for a minute that I didn’t spend the afternoon kicking myself for not being brave enough to do it, though. Let me explain. 

Monday, I left the Florida Keys thinking about what I might write about next. Tuesday, I met a few friendly people at the Everglades National Park sign and wondered if I could make a story out of my encounter with Leslie from California and Randy and Randall from Indiana. They became a Facebook post. 

Tuesday night I arrived at my friend Zuzana’s in West Palm Beach. She introduced me to four French Canadian friends she calls “the Canarians.” She also introduced me to her friends Ivan and Marta and her friend and realtor, Yadi, and her husband, Eric. Even though it was great to meet them, still no story came to mind.

Now, in the city of Rockledge in Brevard County, Florida, I’m slowly making my way back home to Georgia. I’m parked at a long-term campground near my friend Esther, whom I met on my first trip to Florida in 2019 and visited again in 2020. From here, I plan to meet up with Brad and Maria in Daytona, also friends from my 2019 and 2020 trips to the Sunshine State. 

Next, I will catch up with a fellow physical education teacher from Calhoun, Georgia, who has recently retired and moved to Florida. As interesting as all these people are, and as hard as I have been thinking about sharing something about them in a blog, no eureka idea has emerged  . . . until this morning, when I least expected it. 

As I was riding along the sidewalk, I came upon the nicest city park (see photo). After circling the park and riding through a nearby neighborhood, I turned around to head back to my campsite. Upon approaching an intersection, I slowed for a man on a bike, crossed the street, and called to another guy who was just stepping onto the sidewalk. When I called out “on your right” the tall, thin guy with an air pod in his ear turned, stepped back, and gave me the biggest, kindest, toothiest smile I had ever seen on a bike trail. 

It was at that moment I thought I wanted to tell you about him and what that smile did for me. I rode another mile or so, just thinking about his reaction when I startled him. He just smiled. That’s all he did, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about how much that smile meant. When I turned around to ride back, I hoped he would still be walking down the path. He was. 

I stopped and told him how much that smile meant to me. It told me a lot about him as a person. His smile made me like him and think highly of him. He thanked me and we both moved on. We didn’t even exchange names, and here I am writing about him at midnight merely because he smiled as I whizzed by him on the sidewalk somewhere in Brevard County. 

If you are wondering if a smile makes a difference, wonder no more. Smiles are free to give and they don’t take any more energy than a frown. If given a choice, choose today to give a smile not just to the ones you love, but to those who cross your path. And if you give enough of them away, it may just lift your own spirits too. To the guy in Brevard County who gave me a smile when he could have just as easily given me the finger, this blog is for him.

What’s so special about a smile? A smile can change the world, or at least the way we view it.