As I wrote to my Twitter account a few days ago, “Sometimes the most memorable and humbling conversations we have are with complete strangers in short, by-chance interactions.”  What I was attempting to do in 140 characters or less was refer to a specific conversation I had on a plane ride home from a hockey tournament during my undergraduate education that made an incredible, almost surreal impression on me that I will never forget.

But, first, a distinction: we’ve all had emotional conversations we’re doomed to never forget.  Likewise, we’ve all had “ah ha!” conversations where we realized something interesting, and perhaps that perspective has kept with you since that moment.  But the conversations I am speaking of transcend inherently emotional talks, and instead come out-of-the-blue and yet still impact us to an extent we could never have imagined.  I’ve only had a couple of these during my life, and I’m going to share them in hopes of allowing others the opportunity to reflect on the unexpected-and-yet-memorable conversations in their lives.

Starting chronologically, I’d like to attribute the first conversation to my father.  I’m sure that everyone who grew up in the traditional two-parent household can appreciate the oft-unfunny-but-somewhat-clever quotes our fathers tried to use on us.  Of course, that’s after first using them on our mothers and our older siblings; that is, after all, the only reason fathers have multiple children: to tell the same old jokes over and over again.  But the first conversation that had a great impact on me wasn’t a story or joke, really; rather, it was a small quip that made a lot of sense.

While practicing basketball in our backyard, my father and I were playing a little 1-on-1.  Being unable to get around him, I made a spur-of-the-moment hook shot that had little chance of going in.  However, this particular shot clanged off the rim.  He stopped and said, “Why would you try to make that shot?”  To which I responded, “Well it almost went in.”  His response, I thought, at the time, seemed stern, but it has burned itself in my memory.  He said, “Almost gets you nothing.”

The truth in that statement didn’t hit me until some years later.  His statement wasn’t made to anger, disappoint, or depress, but rather to encourage me to assess each situation for the best solution before acting on what’s easiest or trying a completely frivolous or unfounded action that has little change of solving the problem.  That simple quote, which I’m sure he thought nothing of at the time or ever since, has taught me that your actions are fruitless if you don’t put forth adequate effort to complete your thoughts or goals.  Being a scanner with many differing interests has made digesting this quote difficult, but serves as a great motivator to complete those tasks and ideas I find most interesting and practical.  I’ve held that quote since I was about 12, and hope to impart that same philosophy on my children, too.

The other conversation which has impacted my life inspired this post.  After losing at a national collegiate hockey tournament, I decided to take an earlier flight back to my hometown to see my family.  Knowing no one on the plane and not being the greatest conversation starter, I sat uncomfortably in my seat, digging my nose into, if memory serves me correctly, a book about social and political philosophy.

The man next to me, nearing the middle of our flight from Colorado to St. Louis, asked what I was reading.  I explained it to him, and he seemed intently interested in my thoughts in philosophy and how it was applicable to other, more practical areas of life.  I asked him what he did, and he gave me his business card: this previously anonymous man, Patrick McGuire, curious and talking to me like a colleague about philosophy, was an astrophysicist working on robotics and artificial intelligence applicable to remote Earth and planetary exploration at the Earth & Planetary Remote Sensing Lab at Washington University in St. Louis.

I was astounded — almost speechless — but found enough breath to ask him many of the same questions he first posed to me.  At the end of our conversation, he said he wished he knew more about philosophy.  Likewise, I said I wish I knew more about astrophysics (an autodidactic interest I still hold and write about today), but I added a quip at the end of my sentence: “…but I could never be as smart as you.”  He looked at me and responded, “That’s not true. I’m just smarter in physics while you’re smarter in philosophy. We’re both just as smart; it’s just about different subjects.”

Such humility is rare in academia, and perhaps even more rare in the sciences.  But what that incredible quote taught me is that everyone is smarter than someone else in something, and that makes everyone equal.  We all bring different experiences, knowledge, interests, and passions to the table; what we do with them — not what they are — is what is to be judged, if anything is to be judged at all.  That simple response from an incredibly bright man taught me that he — a distinguished researcher — and I — a simple student — were equals, and we could learn much from each other.

Through these small quips, rarely meant to provide such large impacts, we can learn much about ourselves and others.  While I’ve been fortunate to have had conversations which gave me these perspectives, it does make me wonder: what other wonderful insights did I miss or forget?  I can only hope that I am able to impart on some others new perspectives that impact their lives the same way those mere, unexpected conversations did to me.