Our constant complaining unites us

We are so fond on one another because our ailments are the same.

- Jonathan Swift

The other morning I was behind the newspaper building walking down Seventh Street and weighing my bagel options: cinnamon toast, raisin or blueberry?

I budget $2 for what is an almost daily visit - some for the bagel, some for the tip and then - depending on how much change Henry gives me back - some for an out-of-town paper from the racks by the door.

Decisions, decisions.

A guy soon falls in step with me, a stranger, but not strange.

After a few shared strides, our mutual silence almost seems rude, and he breaks it first by making a quick comment on the morning weather.

(As most of you know, this is how many say hello.)

I quickly respond, agreeing with his assessment, and repeat a forecast for the afternoon that I had heard an hour before.

"I hate cold fronts," he said. "They make my feet ache."

"Know what you mean," I answer. "My knees start to throb when the weather's like this. Sometimes it's a shoulder. Might be bursitis, but the doctor's only guessing."

He laughs and starts telling me about how his wife had a funny trip to the doctor. And I reciprocate with a story about my own wife's health, and before you know it, we've both shared more medical history than a Mayo Clinic intern tour.

I find this amusing because the federal government actually tries to keep us from sharing our medical business, but most of us ignore the efforts and are more than glad to discuss our ailments.

It's how we talk. It's how we share.

At church every Sunday, the preacher always asks for prayer concerns, and one person after another will raise a hand and ask for help for himself, herself or some friend or family member, and almost always describe the ailment - often in descriptive detail.

I've had people cheerfully, gladly, knowingly tell me and the other dozen or so intimates standing around about a medical procedure they have had done or that they are considering that I find embarrassing to contemplate, much less imagine being done on someone else.

And I warn you, never describe an ailment in a large group, because you know what happens. Someone, usually several someones, will feel compelled to top it.

Before you know it, everyone's standing around shaking their heads and feeling glad that they don't hurt any more than they do.

Why do we do this?

I guess - despite our typical American bravado - we like to share our vulnerabilities. We like to let others know that we hurt, feel, shake and ache.

Maybe we realize that by letting others know our weaknesses, we have shown ourselves ready to accept a hand or help or prayer. We are acknowledging we are not alone in this daily adventure, but in it together - every waking, aching moment.

And some of us just like to complain.

Reach Bill Kirby at (706) 823-3344 or bill.kirby@augustachronicle.com.