At the Fairfield County Green Drinks Wednesday night, I chatted with Steve Wortman.

Steve’s an accountant who lives on the CT/NY border. He wore a fabulous tie with lighthouses on it– and seemed to know a bit about the scale of lighthouse building in America.

“Michigan has more lighthouses than any other state.”

It was the sort of fact that, in the context of reading right now probably sounds deadly boring. But Steve, with his plastic-rimmed glasses, pressed work attire and unassuming manner, made me glad he’d introduced himself immediately.

Networking, even among our own sort, can be a deadly dreary game. “So hi, I’m Bill… Nice to meet you Conquistador. And what do you do? OH… you handweave freshly mown grass in natural, biodegradable diapers. What a brilliant idea!… Really? Pampers spies in your treehouse?! Yes, I wonder what our tax dollars are for too.”

There are only so many times that you can say “Yes, well I think I’ll just get another drink.”

Subtle Revelations

Then occasionally you come across people like Steve. “My son is a writer… he’s doing work on comic books online, something like that. How he turned out like that I’ll never know.” Rational, methodical accountant, Steve is asking me questions about how I became a writer when thick-steak details about his son’s writing life appear in the conversation– the way any parent’s will. Steve’s revelations slip away from his son’s life to his own for a moment and I catch a vision of him.

“I was going to be an English teacher, but back in the 70s, they had a glut of teachers, and not so many accountants.” He isn’t looking at me when he is tell me this bit. “So that’s what I do now. Computers make it easy.”

We get interrupted and I don’t get the chance to say “HEY! I think maybe I can guess where your son might get his bent for writing from!”

The Reel Thing

Steve and I split up— there are other people to network with. But when, later, we are gathered by Heather in a circle to say why we are there, Steve’s turn comes around. He is enchanting in his awkward normality.

“I’ve been mowing my lawn with a push reel mower for 28 years,” he tells us. “Finally this year my neighbor across the street started using one too.”

Everyone joins Steve in a laugh, soft and gentle. It’s the sort of laugh that settles us. It reminds me there are people like Steve, regular accountants in Port Chester, mowing there lawn and making quiet efforts.