Jeff

April 29, 2020

Yesterday I had a close encounter with a crackpot. He wasn’t the problem – I was.

I was at the halfway point on my daily walk, in this case on the West County Trail here in Sonoma County. I had just turned around at the end of one section of the trail when I heard someone comment that I wasn’t wearing a mask. I looked over to see a man standing in the tall grass next to the trail. He wasn’t wearing a mask either.

Not sure whether he was being critical or friendly, I commented that I only wear a mask when going into a grocery store, and that I didn’t feel a need to wear a mask outdoors. He responded saying that wearing masks is bullshit and that the whole coronavirus pandemic is a plot created by rich power brokers to take over the world.

Uhhh…….Okay……

It sounded like I was in for a political rant. I was right. But I didn’t know whether I should wish him good day and continue on my walk, or whether I should stick around for a bit and find out if he was a Trump supporter or just a generic nut case. Having nothing better to do and momentarily grateful for the entertainment, I decided to cautiously engage him and see where it would lead.

As we spoke – or rather, as he spoke and I politely listened – I looked him up and down for clues to his degree of sanity. He appeared to be about my age, maybe a few years younger, clean-shaven, short blond/gray hair, stocky but fit, wearing a red baseball cap, lime green jersey, black bicycle shorts, black bicycle gloves, and sunglasses. His bike was propped up against a nearby pole.

I asked him who he believed was behind this mysterious virus scheme, and he warned darkly that I would soon find out. I pressed him for details, and he said that the panic was being caused by big corporations, Republican and Democratic politicians such as Mitch McConnell and Nancy Pelosi, and the Chinese. Well, that pretty much covered the bases. I could have suggested that he forgot to mention the Jews, but that would have been unkind.

When I inquired about his possible solutions to the pandemic hysteria, he was briefly flummoxed. Then, noticing the grass all around him, he said that grass is a healthy food, and that if people harvested wheat grass and juiced it like he does, they would be better off mentally and physically and would therefore be less likely to be deceived by conspiracies.

To my surprise, he began to ask me personal questions, and having nothing to lose, I answered them. We discovered that we have several things in common: we live alone, have never married, have no kids or grandkids, have both given up on the dating scene, and both have lived nearby for decades. He owns his home and a small business, and once we got off the subject of his kooky conspiracy theories, he came across as rational if desperately lonely. With his poor social skills, he probably has few if any friends. I felt sorry for him. He told me that his name is Jeff.

I realized that Jeff had accosted me about not wearing a mask because that was a choice that we both had made, a choice that united us, however superficially. Jeff wanted someone to talk to. Jeff needed a friend.

I understand loneliness. It has been a lifelong affliction of mine. And especially in these times of social isolation, I understand the human desire to connect with other people. Wasn’t that what I was doing myself by sticking around to humor a stranger spouting wacky beliefs? I also felt that it was my civic duty to listen to a troubled soul, and to help him feel, however briefly, like he is part of a community.

But how much of an obligation do I have? How much time do I need to spend with this guy? Unlike my old friend Alfonso (see my April 18 essay), I don’t have infinite patience to spend hours listening to a bore rave about his fears and insecurities. I’m not a therapist, and don’t get paid to hold Jeff’s hand. Yes, I want to be compassionate and helpful, but not at the cost of my own mental health. Even if I were to meet him again and continue to listen to his rants, how could I gracefully extricate myself from the situation without rejecting him or otherwise inflicting pain upon him? Maybe it would be better not to engage with him in the first place.

When Jeff informed me that he bikes this trail regularly, and that perhaps we would meet again, I heard his unspoken plea for friendship. I tactfully noted that maybe we would meet again, but that I only walk that trail a couple times a month, so it was unlikely that we would cross paths anytime soon. We wished each other well, and went our separate ways.

I felt guilty, and relieved. I had escaped from the probability of a doomed relationship, but had not offered him a lifeline of hope or connection. I was being wise, but selfish.

I think I need a shot of wheat grass.