What a handshake at the bus stop built
More than 30 years ago, my family moved from Worcester, Massachusetts, to Hampton Township outside Pittsburgh. My wife, Amy, had deep roots in the city, but for our young family, the move was still a leap into the unknown.
Our house gave our children room to grow and our family a place to begin again. We were close to Hartwood Acres, where we spent years walking, hiking, watching soccer games, attending concerts, and driving through the Christmas lights.
It became the setting for an important chapter in our lives. But buying a house does not immediately make a new place feel like home. People do.
On our children’s first day of school, we walked down the long driveway toward the bus stop. Parents and children were already gathered. We were the new family, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, hoping we had made the right decision.
That morning, I met Jeff Wiley. Jeff walked over, extended his hand, and welcomed me. It was a small gesture, but I remember it clearly. That handshake became the beginning of a friendship built through rounds of golf, dinners with our spouses, and the everyday moments that gradually turn a new place into home.
Then, as chapters do, that one closed. We moved to Ohio. Life carried us in different directions. Over the next 25 years, Jeff and I crossed paths only occasionally, but each time, we picked up where we had left off.
Recently, Dialogue Miles™ brought me back to Hampton and gave us the opportunity to walk together again.
A few things I learned:
The right tool changes as you do. Jeff and I used to laugh about a brutal uphill par 3 at Longue Vue, where choosing the right club could make or break the shot. The 4-iron became our shorthand. Life works much the same way. The tools that served us in one chapter may not fit the next. A smaller home may offer more freedom. New habits may help us stay healthy. Letting go of what no longer serves us may create room for what does. Wisdom is knowing when to switch tools.
Choose your circle deliberately. The people closest to us shape how we think, what we notice, and how we show up. Choosing people who energize us and challenge our thinking keeps us growing.
Commit to the next time. My brother-in-law, Joe Nanney, once taught me not to end a visit by vaguely saying, “We should do this again.” Commit to the next time. Jeff and I did. Our next round of golf is already on the calendar.
Part of my work is helping people see the unseen and turn it into something meaningful. When Jeff said, “We should probably get a picture at that bus stop,” it turned a walk into a lasting memory.
Sometimes, the connections we think have faded are simply waiting for us to return.
Who’s a connection in your life that might simply be waiting for you to reach out?
