On my walk to our local library to write this, a stranger stopped me, noticing the logo on my t-shirt. “Penn State, I grew up and went there. You?” I confirmed I did and what ensued was a genuinely nice five minute conversation about our experiences in Happy Valley. We exchanged pleasantries and names and a connection based on an institution two hundred-fifty miles away and a time decades earlier was made. I’ll get back to this story later.
A week earlier, my wife was walking behind me as I was sitting on the couch doing something mindless that I can’t remember. She asked with distress in her voice if I had seen what was happening in Texas. “It’s just awful.” I remember her saying. My response, which I’m ashamed of, was a disinterested, “Yeah, it is.” I then went back to my unmemorable mindless pursuit.
Up to that point, I had heard there was a flood. A dozen or so missing. I had bothered only to skim a headline. The story, while tragic, seemed disconnected to me.
It was only when I read a social post from a friend did it begin to hit closer to home. She had gone to the girl’s camp that was devastated and sent her children there. In fact they returned every 4th of July to be in community to a place that has meant so much to their family. Fortunately they were fine, but the camp director, who she knew, had lost her life. She imagined in her post what it must have been like for a woman who had taught so many girls to swim in that river to now lose her life in it. Tears formed in my eyes, thinking of my friend’s loss and that woman’s life.
Later I would learn that another friend sent his son to the “brother” camp. His son’s friends were fine after a harrowing ordeal, but he had two neighbors who had each lost a daughter to the tragedy. My heart sank thinking of my own girls.
Later yet, I saw another post from a third friend saying that she had also gone to the camp in the sixties. She described how formative that experience had been to her and lamented with sadness at what was now lost.
Over the span of three days, I stumbled upon three friends with direct connections to the tragedy in Texas. With one I shared a birthday, another I shared a job, a third I shared a home. My connection to them made my connection and empathy to the events in Texas stronger.
But I am troubled and disappointed with myself that it took that.
Everyday, there is pain and suffering in the world. Perhaps too much for us to comprehend or fully take in. So we scroll and stroll by it. Knowing that it will, in a short time, fade from our feeds and minds. Seldom stopping to realize that the effects for others will echo for months, years and lifetimes.
In the context of bridging differences, we often talk about finding connections with others. Looking for some shared experiences or interests to bind us. Where we’re from or went to school, who we root for or against. Roles we share as parents, workers, or parishioners.
On one level this makes sense, on another it seems entirely unnecessary.
We need not go searching for connections, they are literally right in front of us. Each person is a human being who shares your planet and by and large wants the same basic things out of life – for themselves and their loved ones – as you do. Why should we ever need more connection than that?
Going back to my story above. As the woman approached me, she was walking her dog. She had a smile on her face. I almost said “Good morning” but chose not to for some reason. She on the other hand chose to connect.
We are all interconnected in so many ways both complicated and elemental. Imagine if that was our starting point and we embraced it and acted accordingly.
Our first instinct when someone coming towards us would be to offer up a smile and hello.
Our first instinct when seeing something tragic would be figuring out “how I can help right now.”
Here is a list of local charities that are supporting those impacted by the flood.
Recommendations for the Week: Check out this book and these two movies if you’re looking for some inspiration about connection. Rutger Bregman’s Moral Ambition, Jem Cohen’s Little, Big and Far, and yes, James Gunn’s new take on Superman.
Consider sharing this with someone you have a connection with – by which I mean anyone.