A Peculiar Encounter

It’s taken me a while to think this thing through and I can’t say that I have really grasped what happened even now. But, let me start at the beginning or perhaps even a bit before the beginning.

In the summer, I like going for walks. I like walking when it’s cool. I like walking in the evenings in the city. I'm happy to walk on a beach in the afternoon because I can allow the ocean to splash over my toes to keep me cool. Also, beaches are awesome. Sometimes I like walking by myself. Other times I like to have company. Most often, that company is a child. We walk along holding hands, looking at whatever scenery we’re walking by, and chatting about whatever strikes our fancy.

One day a few weeks ago, I went out for a walk with a child. We wandered down into the valley. We came back out of the valley and were walking through a neighbourhood near our starting point when we saw three people walking towards us. This sparked a conversation between us about how things here are different from things in other places. We began reminiscing about a conversation we’d had on a walk we’d taken with a friend and her daughter in a large city in Asia. In that conversation, my friend’s daughter had laughed a gleeful laugh when I said that we cross the street by waiting until there are no cars coming instead of waiting until there are enough people to force the cars to stop. She said, “That would never happen here.” She paused for a moment while she thought and then added, “Well, maybe after midnight.”

Our reminiscence was interrupted by one of the approaching people. He spoke directly to me in a loud voice. First, he complimented my appearance. I replied with a “Thank you.” Second, he flapped a piece of sliced processed cheese still in its wrapper so that I could see what he was talking about when he made the following offer: “Would you like some pocket cheese?”

Now, as it happens, I don’t really like cheese of any kind be it pocket cheese, orange cheese, sock cheese or blue cheese. Thus, I was able to come back with a snappy answer (“No thanks!”) without considering the modifier at all. Since that time, I’ve wondered on and off about the encounter. Why was the man carrying a slice of cheese? Why did he offer it to me? Why did he call it ‘pocket cheese’? I have no answers to these questions. I wonder if we’d stayed to talk with him if he’d have been able to elucidate. It seems likely that his motivations will remain mysterious for the rest of eternity or perhaps just until I forget that the encounter happened at all. I’m content with that but if you, dear reader, happen to be able to explain or even offer a somewhat plausible theory of how the behavior of the pocket cheese carrier arose, I will be mildly grateful.