How Do You Do? I Am Very Pleased To Meet You.

This is a phrase I have taught my children from early days and with a ditty that ends "Shaky, shaky, shaky, shaky, shake" as I teach them how to greet and shake hands.

I meet people because I am prepared to meet people. I suffer--less and less, I will say--a lot of BS about communication. But, I feel pretty clear about how it works and wonder what it is that some of life's 'gurus' are spinning with what they offer as communication skills.

Sitting in a little corner section at the US Open tennis yesterday, I was doing what most black patrons do at that tournament, I was watching a black player in action. This time, the athletic Frenchman, Gael Monfils (pronounced mon feec). I was rolling out the French expressions as much as anything because I knew that Americans are enamoured of a little bit of the exotic and sounding foreign is very much that. So, "Allez, Gael!" (Go, Gael!) I shouted often. It was funny because Monfils was playing his countryman, Jeremy Chardy--who was having a day of hitting the net too often. A group of young American men was behind and they asked if I was French, and I explained. We then talked a bit about the tournament and how much fun it always was especially watching in the smaller show courts, as now, in Grandstand.

My wife went off to get coffee, and then a black man in front of me, turned to me and asked me if I was francophone. I told him no and asked him from where he came. He told me Guadeloupe. I smiled and we did the fist bump and hand clasp. He added that he now lives in France, in Marseille. As islanders together, we joked a bit. He seemed very gentle and explained that this was his first trip to the US Open. He added that he would be there for the full two weeks. Coffee arrived and we had another round of introductions. We then needed to leave to see yet another French player in action--"The Magician", Fabrice Santoro, now 36 touching 37 and retiring this year after 20 years as a professional. His game is all guile and slice and frustrating the opponent, and smiles and colour.

As I headed off to an outside field court, I felt a touch on my shoulder. Mr. Guadelopean had followed me and wanted to offer me the chance to visit him in France. I warned him that I take up such offers readily. He smiled and fiddled to find an e-mail address and gave me his telephone number in France. Then he mentioned that he needed to call his wife and let her know all was fine. I offered to inform her immediately by sending an e-mail from my mobile phone. He was thrilled. I went off to see a magic show.

Before getting to the court, nature called. I looked at no lines for the tennis so joined one for the loo--a long one. When I had relieved myself, I was not relieved to see the tennis line was now 40 people long and not moving. Drat. I did find a gap in the hedge and peeped in to see the start of play. Santoro had his opponent, Juan Ferrero dangling on a rope, but not long enough to stay ahead for long.But, it was fun to see. I sent the e-mail while waiting. Within minutes came back a reply, full of surprise that an 'American' could be so willing to help a foreigner. I disabused the man's wife (no crime) and told her my origin. All was simply understood now: Antillean people together. We exchanged more messages during the day and she told me which matches she was watching from Marseille.

I'll dedicate this piece to yet another lovely chance meeting. I do not know if the French couple read English, but I may have to do a little translation for them.