It’s bake sale and craft sale season, so that means I will touch base with folks I haven’t seen in a long time. What better excuse is there to mingle than examining sweets and handicrafts? I will be going solo because my family is always impatient when I stand around and chat.

Of course, holiday events aren’t the only time traps. One day last month it took me 45 minutes to get through Aldi. The grocery list only contained a couple of items; it should have been a five-minute visit.

No, I didn’t get sucked into perusing the “Aisle of Shame.” No, there weren’t groups of tourists blocking the aisles as they planned the weekend meals. Nor were there long checkout lines. I had merely stumbled into the Bermuda Triangle of Fellow Retirees. Rounding the corner into each aisle, another familiar face was waiting to engage.

When the kids were younger, during these encounters they might fidget by my side, only to ask when the conversation ended, “Mom, how do you know that person?” or “Who is that?”

And while the answers to the former question would vary, over time my kids anticipated that any young adult was a former student. But they would shake their head in disbelief when I’d say others were met standing in line, at a car accident, or watching a Little League game. And while some people I feel like I have simply known forever, others I can picture the first meeting clear as day. One of my favorite people, Theresa Buckley, I met at the laundromat. Bob Seidenstein and I met on the sidewalk leading into the library. I met my husband in my classroom, but that is a story for another day.

But the others?

Here I would be on shakier ground because truthfully, I have no idea why I know some people. Worse yet, we have made small talk for so many years, that it would be embarrassing to confess we still didn’t know each other’s names.

Another major category of personal kinship came from parent-teacher conferences. There was a time when those nights would bring lines of families, wanting to hear first-hand reports of how their children were doing. Technology has stunted those evenings, particularly in the upper grades. It’s a shame because connections made in those 10-minute meetings often persisted well beyond the school year.

I think the longest-lasting bond was formed with Val Trost, one of the kindest humans on the planet. Our link lasted through children and grandchildren. In later years, I would always chuckle when one of the grands would shake his head and sigh, “I know, Gram already told me that.” Apparently, she and I are like-minded. Maybe that is why I always look for Val at community events, but so far this season I’ve missed her.

Whenever we do see each other, the conversation wanders down a familiar path to when her children were in my English class. We don’t discuss their antics (No worries, Joe). Instead, we talk about cake, specifically baby shower cake.

Each time I was pregnant, Val had a connection to a student in my class. As middle schoolers, these kids were always ready for a party, so they’d decide to throw a baby shower. After all, what a great excuse to have cake! Val, always a good sport, would bake it. And each time, after enjoying the cake with my class, I would go into labor — a week or two before my due date. At least that was the case with my first two …

So as Val and I talk, the conversation might meander something like this:

“So, with Chloe, I had Joe in class …”

“Yes,” Val will agree. “It was his idea for the party in the first place.”

“And with Quin, you sent in the cake.”

“Right, and that was at the beginning of the school year, so we had to hurry,” Val will recall, pulling the name of the student from memory.

“But who did I have in class for Phoebe?”

Val and I ponder relatives and neighbors but never reach a conclusion.

You know, the more I think about it, Phoebe was the only one to reach her due date. Surprisingly, I began maternity leave before she was born.

In reflection, that leads to one almost inconceivable conclusion. A conclusion that you could say takes the cake.

Val, I just might have had that baby without you.