Connections of many sorts

As usual, I have a series of nested stories…

Story 1: So Herb and I have certain rituals. He is always up earlier than I, so he checks the blog and changes the date and checks for new arrivals on our international “guest list.”  You can see it in the column to the right below the archive listing. We are happy to have been read in 34 countries as of this date, and there is something nice about knowing that someone is “connecting” from places like Ghana and Antarctica –places that are so different and seem so unimaginably far away. 

My routine includes checking the search terms that people use to get to our metaphorical door and while some are obvious: “Herb and Nora” or “Nora and Herb,” others seem rather odd: “sore hands after weeding” or “amanda carter artist Atlanta” or “hourly rate of adjunct teaching, Singapore.”  OK so the first one is a line in something I wrote, but the second one? If I google this phrase, there is an artist named Amanda CarDer who has oil paintings of flowers, animals and landscapes, and a lesbian rapping lawyer named Amanda CarTer neither of whom seem to have any obvious connection to us. And while my friend Deborah has accused me of being in the running for the adjunct Olympics, I am not planning to teach in Singapore. And remember “Claudette psychic Middlebury” from an earlier blog post?  How does someone looking for a psychic, connect to our blog? Wait! Don’t answer that! Anyway, all things are possible in google.

Hold that thought.

Story 2: As most of you know, my contract at the BAC terminated this past June, and so the re-building of our work lives has been launched, but in the meantime, I am going to take advantage of the vaunted “Federal social safety net.” I got up this morning to call the office of unemployment and while I was on hold, I “multi-tasked” by following up on an overdue email to someone who is working on a Vermont project called “Staying Connected.” They are looking at what people “value about the local community and landscape,” and seeking to “inspire people to explore some of the special places and features of the local region.”  But within about 2 minutes, I received an automated response to my email that read: “Thank you for your message.  Between June 23rd and September 1st, 2011, I will be checking email only once or twice a week.  I may therefore take several days to get back to you.  In September, my schedule will again become more regular.  Thanks for your patience!” Hmmmm….

At about the same time that I received that email response, I was connected by phone to someone at the unemployment office in Boston, who turned me over to another automated queue, and after answering a host of automated questions, I got a recording that said, “Due to unusually heavy call volume, your call can not be answered at this time. Please try again later.” Right. “Unusually high call volume.” The vaunted social safety net at work. Pun intended. I was disconnected.

Story 3: 20 days ago, Herb and I were married overlooking this place that we love.  And on June 25^th, I fell in love (again) with something beyond this place or the man I married. I fell in love with the connection between people who hadn’t known each other before, but liked each other enough to keep talking about these new friends long after they had gone their separate ways.  Presumably addresses were exchanged. Certainly two friends connected through our blog and were looking forward to meeting each other. Kathleen did you meet Josseline?

So I find myself considering connections. And disconnections.

How is it that the international and electronic community can connect us, or seem to, when we don’t make time for those who live and work next door? I was startled when friends from this tiny town told me they don’t “visit” anymore for fear of interrupting someone’s work.

How have video chats on the I-pad made up for what is missing in the real communities we live and work in? This is not a new question. Certainly it is easier to simply push a few keys and know that someone has been looking for you, leaving a message, or just “lurking” on your blog. It requires little expenditure of energy and it isn’t time sensitive. But architectural theorist Christopher Alexander said 30 years ago, the result is a kind of “social anomie.”

IMHO (:->), I think something beyond Herb and I happened on the 25^th. Too many people have called, and written both paper and electronic messages telling us that this was a day that mattered to them and that they were glad to have been there… and wait!… that it had an impact on their own lives. Maybe it was the amazing weather or the view or the food, but…maybe the connection that Herb and I celebrated made other connections happen. And maybe there is a way to keep that going.

Herb is now in a meeting in Boston, considering the meaning of “independence from organizational dysfunction.” I am ensconced in a chair in the living room, with the computer in my lap. I could go visit a friend, but my work is at the computer keyboard.

H and I are in different places today, disconnected. But we are trying to reconnect, to live in one community- a place where connections are made that matter in large and small ways. And some of that is geographic, and some of it is based in deep values no matter how anyone votes or worships. And yes, the geography can make the connections possible--small townspeople in rough climates have to depend on each other when they go off the road and there is no cell service. But geography is not enough. Our friend Amanda lives in a small town where people don’t support each other. And connections can happen in the city at the dog run. Either way, both require the opportunity, to see each other frequently and spontaneously, and maybe the opportunity to “break bread.” And the time. And the sense that your presence there makes a difference, even if you “only just” stopped in. But increasingly, rural people are also finding that they are overwhelmed. I have been thinking about something I am temporarily calling “rural burnout.”

Middletown Springs has an active community life with the Historical Society and the Library and the churches and the school. People say that they move here for these opportunities. But as we increasingly have to do two jobs, or work after work, there is less time for volunteering, less time to take a walk, less time to simply see the place and the people. Potlucks are the flowering of the well sown seed, but are they enough? Our wedding was effectively an elaborate potluck with a lot of hands helping. Was it more? We will only know that over time when we see if those connections sprouted. But to do so, they will need nurturing. And Herb and I are wondering how to do that.

I met Herb’s brothers for the first time, 20 days ago, and he saw them for the first time in 8 years. We will be visiting them as soon as possible. A connection.

Last Friday, we went to the funeral for a friend’s son. He had been in and out of jail and drug programs, and one of those who spoke for him said, “I met him in jail when I was new and the others were trying to take my pants. He told them they’d have to fight both of us. And wherever I was sent, he was already there.” A connection of a different sort.

We received a congratulations card on my engagement, and another on the marriage, from someone I only know by seeing her walk with her husband on the same route I take. We had a terrific conversation on the phone today. “I thought of your mother and how happy she must have been. Our son is 40 and shows no indication of ….”  I will be inviting them over for wine and cheese soon. “I miss seeing you walking. Would you consider joining ‘Bone Builders’ again,” she asked, referring to the exercise group that meets twice a week at the church. A connection.

There was an old one-liner when I used to live in New York… I can’t be your friend, unless someone dies or moves away. There isn’t any room in the calendar for someone new.

Herb asked last night, “How do we keep the connections going”?  I don’t yet have that answer, but the answer isn’t just a potluck or a wedding. It most certainly isn’t living in two different states. It most certainly isn’t depending on the computer, though this blog appears to be creating a kind of community of readers.

I will be going to Bone Builders soon – that much is for sure- and baking for the next event at the Library or the Historical Society. But we need more to build that connection back, to take it back from the electronic media. Herb and I think this is the right geography. We always have something in the fridge for “breaking bread.” We hope you will “interrupt” our day by visiting. We have issued an open invitation to use the little room under the eaves if you need a place to get away (if you don’t mind the mice!).  But the rest is …”under construction.”