I dislike rap music. I don't understand it. Rap seems angry and mindless, a waste of time.

I feel validated in my opinion on rap each time a car pulls up next to me with speakers booming, rap in the air and the fillings in my teeth quaking from the vibration.

Rap often seems dangerous and threatening.

What could be the appeal?

Saturday was sunny and warm and I was stuck in traffic with a mishap up ahead. I start my Saturdays with "Car Talk" on National Public Radio (NPR). I don't profess to know much about cars - but I like to laugh and that's what the hosts get you doing on that show. I like the NPR radio line up all day on Saturday except at 11 a.m. So I guess I was channel surfing while I was sitting there stopped behind a Ford pickup blocking the view.

On the witness stand I would no doubt plead the 5th if confronted with a video of me Saturday morning in the confines of my little gray Toyota. Exactly how and when did I transform from middle aged NPR listener to car chassis bouncing rapper? Yes, that was rap on the radio, and yes, that was me hooting it up and no, there was no transition and no, I can't explain it.

So apparently I landed on an unknown radio station. And, apparently, some rap music came on the air. And unexplainably, this rap music caught the interest of the rhythm section in my head off guard. And there you have it.

We all get caught off guard sometimes. I suppose that can be a good thing I think I dislike rap music. I don't understand it. But sometimes, at least once I know of, it catches my attention and seems...interesting.

For the record, I still dislike coconut and have never been caught off guard on that matter.

Still learning.

* * *

Later that very Saturday...

Again in traffic, this time we are all stopped and no one is honking. We are all waiting patiently. On this occasion the traffic obstruction was a pair of ducks. I did not have the birder in the family with me, so I'm just guessing they were ducks - Mr. and Mrs.

The ducks were not in a hurry and seemed oblivious to the delay they were causing. And no one honked (ducks included) and no one seemed annoyed.

Had the ducks been pigeons or sparrows instead, I don't think folks would have hit their brakes. Had the ducks been skunks, a wider berth would have been granted.

Amongst each other, family members, neighbors and strangers, we choose to give or withhold the path of passage between us. Some folks, like the ducks, are granted it without question. But we withhold it from others, like the pigeons and sparrows. And then certain others, like the skunks, get their space without even working at it.

* * *

Still learning.

At the Apostolic Church of God on Dorchester a lovely dressed lady with a big smile and beautifully coiffed gray hair tosses to visitors little plastic bags filled with red and white mints. The lady eyes the crowd, identifies the visitor and "think fast" the mints are air born and at you.

My wife and I were visitors at the church Sunday. We bagged some nice mints.

"Good catch."

Now I don't think that mint throwing is an officially sponsored outreach program of this church. But it's sure cute and it's sure clever and it sure makes the visitor feel acknowledged.

Ten church committees could find a hundred good reasons why throwing things at Sunday morning visitors is to be avoided. I can hear them now: "Why someone could loose an eye!"

Thankfully, word has not filtered down to the gratuitous lady with the big welcoming smile and the little bags of mints. And since she seems blessed with a good arm and aim, well it works out just fine.

How can we reach out to the stranger? We ask this often, in many contexts, throughout life. One answer is to toss something sweet right square at them.

Still learning.