Even in the largest crowd, each face is unique, with its individual history and its special connections to other people whose faces we never see.
By LaVERNE HAMMOND
© St. Petersburg Times, published December 26, 2000
Have you ever sat in a shopping mall and watched people passing in different directions? Have the expressions on their faces made you wonder what they may be thinking?
As you walked through a crowd, did you ever see a face that resembled someone you once knew?
When you're sitting in an airport, do you wonder whether the people hurrying around are meeting someone or whether they are just eager to get to their destination?
One face in a crowd has been etched forever in my mind.
I was working at the Great Lakes Naval Air Station in Illinois during World War II. I commuted daily, and I first saw him standing on the opposite platform at the train station there. He wore the uniform of a naval lieutenant.
I began to notice him nightly after work when I was waiting for my train to take me home. He was traveling south, toward Chicago, and I was going north into Wisconsin.
One late afternoon, as I was waiting on the platform, he smiled at me, and I smiled back. That exchange continued, except when I had to work late for payroll, maybe twice a month.
One day my platform was unusually crowded. I stood where I usually stood, but I was in the shadow of a large, tall woman.
I could see him glancing up and down my platform as if he were searching for someone. He had a slight frown on his face as he checked his watch and sighed.
Quietly and carefully, I edged to the side of this larger woman so that I was in full view of my mysterious stranger.
As he caught sight of me, I saw his face suddenly light up with a broad smile that quickly was followed by a slight wave of his hand.
I was certain that his smile and wave were intended for me, and I smiled in return and gave a quick wave.
It seemed as if we both had a need to connect with another human being. It was sort of a spiritual bond without a personal commitment.
In autumn it became chilly standing on the platform, waiting for the train. When I was offered a ride in a car pool, I hesitated because I would miss seeing my stranger friend. But with winter coming and because of the convenience, I accepted.
I never saw my mystery man again.
Several months later, I had a disturbing dream. I dreamed that one of our naval transport ships was hit by a Japanese kamikaze attack and that my naval officer was on board that ship. He was on the deck, and as the ship was burning and sinking, I saw him stretching out his hands and calling for help.
Suddenly I awoke with a start. The nightmare seemed so real.
The next day, one of my secretaries, a WAVE, received word that her younger brother had gone down with his ship in a kamikaze attack.
She sat at her desk, stunned, and then burst into tears. Putting her hands to her face, she cried: "I killed him because I urged him to join the Navy. He was so proud of me that he enlisted in the Navy instead of the Army. He said that I was his role model."
She was so distraught that I told her to take the rest of the day off and put in for emergency leave.
I often wondered whether my lieutenant was on that ship.
After we were married, I told my husband about my experience and my feelings about it at the time.
He just smiled. "You didn't get to meet each other because fate saw me waiting for you in the wings," he teased.
Most encounters are fleeting, of course. Still, when I pass through a sea of faces, I am aware of the uniqueness of individuals. Each one of those faces is, or has been, important to someone, somewhere.