Photography by Lori K. Tate
Ann Patchett is one of my favorite writers. I love how she strings words together, but I love how she throws random people together in her stories even more (check out Bel Canto to see what I mean).
This kind of randomness is what makes life rich, and it makes me sad when people aren’t open to it. We’re naturally friends with folks who have obvious common interests, but we should also get to know those with whom we have commonalities that aren’t so apparent. Don’t assume there isn’t a common thread, but I can assure you that there is.
When I’m interviewing someone for a story, it’s important that they feel comfortable and trust me. Over the years, I’ve found that the easiest way to get to that point is to find shared ground from the get go. It might be a sports team or a hometown. It might be something from a picture I recognize on their desk, or it might be the way that they say something. For example, if someone refers to a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup as a Reesie Cup, I know that they’ve been raised right and that we’ll probably become fast friends.
In today’s world, we simply don’t take the time to discover the threads anymore. We’re too busy curating online personas instead of creating meaningful connections. The smartphone has killed the art of chit chat, which is ironic because it was designed to promote communication.
It’s a shame that conversation has become lost in a sea of emojis because I’ve met some interesting people in waiting rooms, rest rooms and standing in line at the movies. Now I’m afraid if I strike up a conversation, I might be interrupting a person validating something important on social media — like what their friend from 10th grade geometry class had for dinner.
My husband is amazed by how well I know people in my life — not best friends or even acquaintances — but people who make my everyday life better. There’s the checkout lady at Harris Teeter with the pretty silver bracelets. She’s from Massachusetts and knows what good clam chowder tastes like. There’s Megan at the consignment store I shop at way too often. Her little girl is about to turn two and is talking up a storm. Then there’s Kenny who makes our sandwiches at McAlister’s. He recently lost a lot of weight and hopes to go to community college to study business.
I didn’t learn this stuff by looking at a screen. I learned it by talking — and more importantly listening. Everyone has a story, and you’d be surprised at how their story aligns to parts of your own. You’re cheating yourself when you miss out on these powerful connections.
Last week I went to a workshop about grief and sadness during the holidays. I really wanted to go, and then I almost chickened out because I was scared and, let’s face it, no one gets jazzed about going to a grief group. The reason I did go is because my friend, Marcy, texted me a reminder about it. I met Marcy years ago when she worked the front desk at the Lake Norman YMCA. She always helped me register The Tots for their activities, and now she’s a close friend.
When I walked into the room, I found a circle of women all ages, shapes and colors. Brought together by the common thread of grief, we had a strong bond from the beginning. As we shared our stories of loss, we found commonalities at almost every turn. A senior citizen who recently lost her husband wanted to go to the beach for Christmas. “So do I,” I told her. Another lady was an only child like me who lost her mother this year. In minutes we became a solid tribe, and I was grateful to be part of it. (Thanks, Marcy.)
Life teaches its best lessons when we least expect it. Perhaps it works that way in order to get our attention. Whatever the reason, I’m thankful for the moments that take me by surprise to show me something I didn’t know, something I need to know. I’m thankful for common threads that can be woven into beautiful tapestries of friendship. And I’m thankful that I’ve learned to look — and listen.