Like Eliza (Senoufou), I start a conversation with a silent "wanna talk?" signal -- a glance, a smile, a tilt of the head. I bet she, too, is usually watching for such signals from other people; they are quite unmistakable once you get in the habit of looking for them. I don't have her experience and skill with children, but I have had some memorable conversations nevertheless. I usually wait for them to speak first, modern life being what it is.

In 1978, I went to Spain (from Germany) with an army buddy to see the Alhambra. It was September and spectacularly hot. The Alhambra gardens (the most attractive part of the site) are built around large pools. I was sitting on the edge of a pool, resting my heat-struck self, when an English boy about eight years old approached and sat down near me. He looked at the water and said, "Do people put their feet in there to cool off?" I replied that I thought that a good idea. "Are we allowed?" he asked. "I don't know," I said. The poor kid was sweaty and flushed, obviously getting near the end of his rope (as was I), so I said, "I'm going to put my feet in. If anyone complains, I can apologize." So I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up the cuffs of my trousers, turned around on the curbstone and put my feet in the water. The little boy thought about it for a minute or so, and then took off his shoes and socks. "I can apologize, too," he said, and swung his feet over the edge. We had a pleasant conversation about Spanish food until his mother and sister arrived. There was a bit of fuss about wet feet, solved when I offered the dish towel from our picnic basket.

That little boy is well up in his forties now. Geez Louise.