The rupture of social bonds and loss of community, caused by the decades-long assault on the poor and working class and the ravages of the pandemic, have resulted in a dangerous social isolation.
Hedges is as great as Vonnegut as he writes non-fiction regarding humanity’s insanity. Thank you Chris for reminding us that it is our society and culture that is so damn insane. Your writing helps keep me tethered to some semblance of sanity in this ever increasing descent into madness.
That ended unexpectedly. And beautifully! How nice it was to reminisce reading this story. And to laugh! It wasn't that long ago, yet feels like the way things *used* to be.
I am a school teacher. I am in a state of compassion fatigue, now. This week. Our social bonds are broken. The next phase of total effects of "isolation and lack of normal social relations," in our time, is near. I think I see it crawling ashore. Not a rumble coming from a depth, but a shadow in the shallow. My pedagogy is in palliative care, sometimes. My mind wanders there, often.
At the library, I'm learning to play the ukulele. Thirst for community, not a desire to play the uke, drove me. Turns out I love it! Will learn "Sing (Sing a Song)" and play it for my students as *we* sing along on Sesame Street. They're older, but they don't care. Old school Gen X is novel for them and nostalgic for me. Analog is better for *we*.
Today, I'll head to the gym. I'm burned out on the repetition and routine of the process, but not on the people. I will head on over for that. Good company.
True. Mr. Hedges shows here his gift of observation and reporting. During my adult life I frequented the gym (until the pandemic) and although I had some few friends to talk to, I never learned deep about their lives or businesses, we just passed the time commenting on the issues of the day, and about the other regulars I knew nothing.
The peace and social justice community here felt the impact of the pandemic, especially the older members. Then came the proxy war, which divided a community that was already struggling. Such challenges bring into focus the value of on-line communities like this one. Thank you, Chris.
In isolation, new opportunities to appreciate social interaction present themselves. Having had several dogs over the years (most recently a Westie, Orwell, who we finally had to put down, a loss my wife and I both felt deeply), I'd never been especially fond of cats. As the pandemic came on, a solitary kitten in need of attention appeared one cold early spring morning, mewing under a basement window vent. With a regular diet, veterinary care, and the run of the place, Blaise thrived. A couple of months later, when I called her name one sunny morning she came flying across the back yard, scaled a five foot picket fence and jumped from it into my arms. She's a wonder, remarkably attentive. Pampering her has been and continues to be a pleasure. Less than a year ago we bought a Yorkie pup from an Amish breeder over in eastern Iowa. Huxley, too, has thrived. He and Blaise are about the same size and they play well together, the perfect pair for a couple of empty nesters.
Participating in efforts to rejuvenate the once vibrant peace and social justice community here is going to be interesting. That work is now underway. "What else is there to do at the end of the world?" quipped an old friend. People seem to be thirsty for information and interaction. There were many new faces at an event about the proxy war in Ukraine recently. Let's finish strong.
Dog and cats are great companions and I feel sorry we cannot understand their thoughts that probably are better than those of our gerontocrats in congress. The more I know mankind the more I love my dog.
Loved this piece. Beautifully written and right on the mark. I read Hannah Arendt during the lockdowns (I too work in a jail, and the word is so obviously pointing to the masses being treated like prisoners), and I started to see the banality of evil all around, especially when I was asked for my “papers” to attend my son’s college graduation. I could not produce my papers so was not allowed to attend.
Wow, love this, Chris. I also worked out in an affordable, community-oriented, no-frills gym. People, especially seniors, loved it. The staff were caring and helpful. It was situated in Oakland in a kind of iffy neighborhood in what was once a court building. But then the building, which was an interesting one, was sold and demolished to allow a construction group to build condos on the property. There was a downturn, as usual, and the condos were never built. For years, there's been a vacant lot, another blight on the landscape. And I got out of shape pretty quickly: two knee surgeries on the same knee, and the replacement exercise is a creaky old recumbent bike below the stairs in the backyard (no garage).
"Because you could join the gym for as low as $36 a month, the locker room served as a public bathroom and shower facility for undocumented workers and the unhoused. One portly man, who lived out of his car, came every morning to shave and shower. He cheerily subscribed to every bizarre right-wing conspiracy theory and held forth about them to anyone willing to listen.
Where is he now? Has he found another community where he is accepted with all his quirks, where he can shower and shave, or has he been, like so many, cast completely adrift? He was already living on the edge of catastrophe."
When I went to gyms for decades I found no one who objected to the privatized socialism of the gym.
Chris says he paid thirty six per month.
It used to be that you paid your fee, it was pooled with others fees (supposedly) and used for maintenance of both the facilities and equipment and labor.
A pay-to-play community, but a social community nonetheless.
Even that is gone now.
What Chris describes, the decrepit failure of the gym, parallels the decrepit failure of the nation.
Gym goers paid thirty six a month and then the gym crashed, the infrastructure deteriorated and then the gym closed, with no notice to members or employees.
Taxpayers pay membership fees also.
They pay them to a government or a nation.
And the taxes are supposed to maintain the infrastructure and assure the country functions and labor is paid.
But just like the gym, the country is collapsing and there is no pay to play anymore.
The deliquescence of the notion of community is as obvious as a an image of a snowball in hell.
America is the biggest 'gym' in the world and it looks like those membership fees will continue to go to banks, the military that protects them, the corporations that use them and the CEO's and top management that enjoy their benefits, not to mention the coin operated politicians that front for them.
Alas, no one wants to raise gym fees on the rich and thus the great Gym in the Sky, the Beacon on the Hill, will see more:
"...rooms were grimy with moldering carpets. There were brown rings around the basins and a thin blackish layer of slime......."
America is now a seedy, little cut-rate carny.
This is the Great Deliquescence of The Public Commons and the rise of atomistic slavery.
The gym is a good metaphor for had it been run collectively as a coop, not owned by a criminal corporation, it could have thrived.
Alas, the same can be said about America, but I am afraid it is too late.
Right on! The pandemic was like a hurricane roaring through the village, leaving vast swathes of social relationship in empty lots.
When I retired in 2007 (I am now 76) from working for State Government, I decided to have a small life, finding ways to keep myself occupied in my city of about 200,000 souls. I went for walks in my neighborhood, met friends for coffee, attended City Club presentations, road my bike into the city so I could walk around and talk to small business owners whom I knew. I also regularly went to a gym two or three times a week where I worked out with folks I came to know and care about. Then covid hit. And I became a recluse, withdrawing from activities which put in proximity to groups of people.
I have not fully recovered from the covid storm. I still go for walks through the hills of my neighborhood, and I ride my bike into town during the summer months, but it is not the same. When I am in town, I am reluctant to spend time inside coffee shops where people congregate. I wear a mask when I am around others, but others are not wearing masks, even though there is evidence that a new potential surge of covid may be coming toward us from the eastern states, a new strain with increased infectiousness.
I feel the increased isolation and the nagging fear of getting covid when I go shopping -- perhaps my most exposed outing. I read a lot, and enjoy movies, and my adult son lives with me, but it is clearly not the same life. I am not brave enough to travel, even within my region because no one takes the threat of covid seriously (many not getting all their covid vaccine shots or wearing masks where it makes sense to wear them).
I make no claim that my approach is the correct one. It is just the approach that I have adopted based upon my best judgment about how to keep covid at bay. For me, the virus has impoverished my social connections. I do not have things as bad as others.
But socially my interaction with others has dwindled. My quality of life has suffered. But I still have a pension, a roof over my head, a hot shower, a desktop computer, and food in the fridge.
By international standards, I'm still one of the lucky primates.
I clearly would not be if I were having to live on the street. I am always aware of that.
I would check in with non-corporate journalists. Everything about the efficacy of masks and lockdowns, and the vaccine, was a lie. The government scared everyone on behalf of big-pharma profits. Perhaps a starting point is with Dr. John Campbell. He started presenting data at the begging, he was one of the first persons to talk about the excess deaths issue, and he's now talking with doctors who were prevented from talking objectively about the pandemic. (https://www.youtube.com/@Campbellteaching)
"Social isolation is the lifeblood of totalitarian movements."
Which is why the 'plandemic' involved 6 feet of social distance to make it inconvenient for us to talk to each other, combined with the masks which, in addition to impeding speech, are intended to be a visual reminder that we should be afraid of each other.
Bravo. A pithy, humorous, and loving snapshot of life on planet earth. Reminds me that there is a special kind of resiliance in community and it's time to dive back in.
You have the D&R Canal path right in your backyard - much better workout to walk/run/bike that and meet and chat with people along the way! If you do the northern spur on a bike (Trenton to Milford) there are several good pubs along the way to stop for a beer.
And the sunlight and fresh air and nature sure beat the dank basement of a gym!
Is it the lack of '"social bonds" that create despair; or the "social bonds" themselves that weigh too heavily on people? Nearly always when I hear/learn of someone committing suicide, the next thing I hear is about their family and/or friends and/or professional colleagues. No lack of "social bonds".
People with relationships can still become isolated. Most come to believe they are worthless, or a burden on those others. The suicide reasons their friends and family would be better off without them.
Just having bonds and relationships doesn't mean they're fulfilling, or healthy.
I got home a few days ago from spending a few months in Serbia, and it is always a disorienting transition concerning the level of social interaction you experience on a daily basis. With the Serbian town I spend part of my year in, daily life requires talking and interacting with other people, and you can't help but get to know those people in the process. If you sit down alone to drink coffee at a cramped cafe it's only natural to strike up a conversation with a stranger next to you - it's almost rude not to. If you have a question about something while in the street you can flag down someone and ask. I've never run into someone not willing to oblige me in that regard. These little interactions led over time to friendships and their corresponding social obligations, and have been the source of favors and assistance. And this course of experience is by no means isolated to Serbia. It's painfully normal.
In contrast, where I live in US, if I speak to a stranger my own age - a friendly comment or a joke about something - more often than not you would think I'd assaulted them. The reaction is discomfort. And I'm a woman, it's not like I'm particularly threatening. If I want to socialize here, I have to call and make arrangements. When I make friends here, it's always with my coworkers. There's no strolling down the promenade or other public space and relying on serendipity to do the rest.
It is deeply troubling how isolated and stratified we've become as a society, and how alienating that experience is. What is even more troubling for me is that this anti-social mode of living has become completely normalized. It is now gauche to call someone on the phone and - mercy - it's such an indignity when the automatic check-out stands are closed in the early morning at grocery stores. And could you imagine knowing the names of your asshole neighbors? Not in this lifetime.
I believe that the level of isolation depends on the size of the town. In big cities everybody lives anonymously and is concerned only with their own business and safety. In small towns everybody knows each other (their religion, politics, love life etc.) and that could be a burden: small town, big hell. I come from a huge city where I never knew or was interested in knowing my next door neighbor's name. There is another factor related to isolation and it is our personality. Some are extremely gregarious and suffer when they are not in the company of a lot of friends, meanwhile others, like myself, love solitude and and choose to be alone.
You raise some excellent points, and there are many facets, subtleties, and exceptions in a topic like this. I share with you a retiring nature. I'd rather be holed up in some quiet corner with a book than just about anywhere else, and would much prefer to listen than speak. I probably have, as a firefighter, an overweening sense of civic responsibility and self-imposed duty overrode my inclination not to learn about my neighbors. But at the very least now they know they can call on me if they need help, even if it's keeping an eye on their house while they're away or corralling a particularly adventurous chicken until she can be collected.
I think that's part of what makes a neighborhood into something more than a collection of homes, and that sort of neighborhood can exist anywhere - with varying levels of mutual support. The most outstanding examples of neighborhoods which foster social bonds are found in cities with large immigrant communities. This comes from practical necessity, but I would argue there is also an aspect of cultural import. Outside of the US I have found this level of socialization and inter-reliance to be fairly commonplace.
What really troubles me is that there is such a palpable difference, as admittedly anecdotal as it is, between approaching a conversation with someone my own age and younger, and older people (who grew up pre digital revolution) as a stranger. And it is one that I simply do not experience while travelling. I am not sure where this general aversion comes from, but I would imagine the long decline of participation in community organizations, privatization of community spaces, and the wide adoption of social media as a surrogate for real-life association have at least contributed in part. It is so easy now, for most of us, to choose to avoid human contact and its inevitable discomforts. But I think that choice digital infrastructures enable us to make unfortunately comes with a societal cost, of which isolation is a small part.
Fully agreed. There is this thought from a very intelligent person:
"We allow our ignorance to prevail upon us and make us think we can survive alone, alone in patches, alone in groups, alone in races, even alone in genders." Maya Angelou"
I feel bad about contributing to the authoritarian state by being retired and mostly just interacting with my 15 year old niephew and her father. I have lost touch with my friends that I had as a union ironworker but, that’s because I just don’t want to be bothered with them. I guess something is wrong with me socially because I am not unhappy with the situation where I am doing what I want which is reading numerous books and learning about different things that I never had as much time to do while working. I think I’ve become somewhat of a misanthrope and I’ve noticed in my walks around my Hollywood, Florida neighborhood that being an old white guy seems to be an unpopular position to be in, in this multicultural neighborhood. I don’t blame them really because my peers have been often an obnoxious bigoted group of people. Finding out now that I’m contributing to the further decline of this country is somewhat unsettling and maybe I should try volunteer work for the numerous homeless people in this area so that I’m less of a negative component in this society. I thank Mister Hedges for further enlightening me as he’s been doing for years.
“So it goes…” — Kurt Vonnegut
Hedges is as great as Vonnegut as he writes non-fiction regarding humanity’s insanity. Thank you Chris for reminding us that it is our society and culture that is so damn insane. Your writing helps keep me tethered to some semblance of sanity in this ever increasing descent into madness.
I hear you. The insanity seems on the increase.
One of your best posts ever. integrating the micro with the macro.
And I LOVE this line: "The gym was run by a crime syndicate called the New York Sports Club."
Hahahahahahahahahahaha.
Wow!
That ended unexpectedly. And beautifully! How nice it was to reminisce reading this story. And to laugh! It wasn't that long ago, yet feels like the way things *used* to be.
I am a school teacher. I am in a state of compassion fatigue, now. This week. Our social bonds are broken. The next phase of total effects of "isolation and lack of normal social relations," in our time, is near. I think I see it crawling ashore. Not a rumble coming from a depth, but a shadow in the shallow. My pedagogy is in palliative care, sometimes. My mind wanders there, often.
At the library, I'm learning to play the ukulele. Thirst for community, not a desire to play the uke, drove me. Turns out I love it! Will learn "Sing (Sing a Song)" and play it for my students as *we* sing along on Sesame Street. They're older, but they don't care. Old school Gen X is novel for them and nostalgic for me. Analog is better for *we*.
Today, I'll head to the gym. I'm burned out on the repetition and routine of the process, but not on the people. I will head on over for that. Good company.
Good day.
Like LeBron James at hoops, Hedges makes writing look so easy, the mark of a master. We mortals can only read and admire.
True. Mr. Hedges shows here his gift of observation and reporting. During my adult life I frequented the gym (until the pandemic) and although I had some few friends to talk to, I never learned deep about their lives or businesses, we just passed the time commenting on the issues of the day, and about the other regulars I knew nothing.
The peace and social justice community here felt the impact of the pandemic, especially the older members. Then came the proxy war, which divided a community that was already struggling. Such challenges bring into focus the value of on-line communities like this one. Thank you, Chris.
In isolation, new opportunities to appreciate social interaction present themselves. Having had several dogs over the years (most recently a Westie, Orwell, who we finally had to put down, a loss my wife and I both felt deeply), I'd never been especially fond of cats. As the pandemic came on, a solitary kitten in need of attention appeared one cold early spring morning, mewing under a basement window vent. With a regular diet, veterinary care, and the run of the place, Blaise thrived. A couple of months later, when I called her name one sunny morning she came flying across the back yard, scaled a five foot picket fence and jumped from it into my arms. She's a wonder, remarkably attentive. Pampering her has been and continues to be a pleasure. Less than a year ago we bought a Yorkie pup from an Amish breeder over in eastern Iowa. Huxley, too, has thrived. He and Blaise are about the same size and they play well together, the perfect pair for a couple of empty nesters.
Participating in efforts to rejuvenate the once vibrant peace and social justice community here is going to be interesting. That work is now underway. "What else is there to do at the end of the world?" quipped an old friend. People seem to be thirsty for information and interaction. There were many new faces at an event about the proxy war in Ukraine recently. Let's finish strong.
RIP David Crosby.
Dog and cats are great companions and I feel sorry we cannot understand their thoughts that probably are better than those of our gerontocrats in congress. The more I know mankind the more I love my dog.
Thanks Chris,
Finding Community with those humans who don’t share my politics or class helps me to feel good about this apocalyptic world.
Somehow connecting with the worst and best of humanity gives me strength to keep fighting.
Loved this piece. Beautifully written and right on the mark. I read Hannah Arendt during the lockdowns (I too work in a jail, and the word is so obviously pointing to the masses being treated like prisoners), and I started to see the banality of evil all around, especially when I was asked for my “papers” to attend my son’s college graduation. I could not produce my papers so was not allowed to attend.
Wow, love this, Chris. I also worked out in an affordable, community-oriented, no-frills gym. People, especially seniors, loved it. The staff were caring and helpful. It was situated in Oakland in a kind of iffy neighborhood in what was once a court building. But then the building, which was an interesting one, was sold and demolished to allow a construction group to build condos on the property. There was a downturn, as usual, and the condos were never built. For years, there's been a vacant lot, another blight on the landscape. And I got out of shape pretty quickly: two knee surgeries on the same knee, and the replacement exercise is a creaky old recumbent bike below the stairs in the backyard (no garage).
"Because you could join the gym for as low as $36 a month, the locker room served as a public bathroom and shower facility for undocumented workers and the unhoused. One portly man, who lived out of his car, came every morning to shave and shower. He cheerily subscribed to every bizarre right-wing conspiracy theory and held forth about them to anyone willing to listen.
Where is he now? Has he found another community where he is accepted with all his quirks, where he can shower and shave, or has he been, like so many, cast completely adrift? He was already living on the edge of catastrophe."
When I went to gyms for decades I found no one who objected to the privatized socialism of the gym.
Chris says he paid thirty six per month.
It used to be that you paid your fee, it was pooled with others fees (supposedly) and used for maintenance of both the facilities and equipment and labor.
A pay-to-play community, but a social community nonetheless.
Even that is gone now.
What Chris describes, the decrepit failure of the gym, parallels the decrepit failure of the nation.
Gym goers paid thirty six a month and then the gym crashed, the infrastructure deteriorated and then the gym closed, with no notice to members or employees.
Taxpayers pay membership fees also.
They pay them to a government or a nation.
And the taxes are supposed to maintain the infrastructure and assure the country functions and labor is paid.
But just like the gym, the country is collapsing and there is no pay to play anymore.
The deliquescence of the notion of community is as obvious as a an image of a snowball in hell.
America is the biggest 'gym' in the world and it looks like those membership fees will continue to go to banks, the military that protects them, the corporations that use them and the CEO's and top management that enjoy their benefits, not to mention the coin operated politicians that front for them.
Alas, no one wants to raise gym fees on the rich and thus the great Gym in the Sky, the Beacon on the Hill, will see more:
"...rooms were grimy with moldering carpets. There were brown rings around the basins and a thin blackish layer of slime......."
America is now a seedy, little cut-rate carny.
This is the Great Deliquescence of The Public Commons and the rise of atomistic slavery.
The gym is a good metaphor for had it been run collectively as a coop, not owned by a criminal corporation, it could have thrived.
Alas, the same can be said about America, but I am afraid it is too late.
Wow! Outstanding article, not just for its social relevance, but for the brilliant award-winning masterful writing.
Right on! The pandemic was like a hurricane roaring through the village, leaving vast swathes of social relationship in empty lots.
When I retired in 2007 (I am now 76) from working for State Government, I decided to have a small life, finding ways to keep myself occupied in my city of about 200,000 souls. I went for walks in my neighborhood, met friends for coffee, attended City Club presentations, road my bike into the city so I could walk around and talk to small business owners whom I knew. I also regularly went to a gym two or three times a week where I worked out with folks I came to know and care about. Then covid hit. And I became a recluse, withdrawing from activities which put in proximity to groups of people.
I have not fully recovered from the covid storm. I still go for walks through the hills of my neighborhood, and I ride my bike into town during the summer months, but it is not the same. When I am in town, I am reluctant to spend time inside coffee shops where people congregate. I wear a mask when I am around others, but others are not wearing masks, even though there is evidence that a new potential surge of covid may be coming toward us from the eastern states, a new strain with increased infectiousness.
I feel the increased isolation and the nagging fear of getting covid when I go shopping -- perhaps my most exposed outing. I read a lot, and enjoy movies, and my adult son lives with me, but it is clearly not the same life. I am not brave enough to travel, even within my region because no one takes the threat of covid seriously (many not getting all their covid vaccine shots or wearing masks where it makes sense to wear them).
I make no claim that my approach is the correct one. It is just the approach that I have adopted based upon my best judgment about how to keep covid at bay. For me, the virus has impoverished my social connections. I do not have things as bad as others.
But socially my interaction with others has dwindled. My quality of life has suffered. But I still have a pension, a roof over my head, a hot shower, a desktop computer, and food in the fridge.
By international standards, I'm still one of the lucky primates.
I clearly would not be if I were having to live on the street. I am always aware of that.
I would check in with non-corporate journalists. Everything about the efficacy of masks and lockdowns, and the vaccine, was a lie. The government scared everyone on behalf of big-pharma profits. Perhaps a starting point is with Dr. John Campbell. He started presenting data at the begging, he was one of the first persons to talk about the excess deaths issue, and he's now talking with doctors who were prevented from talking objectively about the pandemic. (https://www.youtube.com/@Campbellteaching)
"Social isolation is the lifeblood of totalitarian movements."
Which is why the 'plandemic' involved 6 feet of social distance to make it inconvenient for us to talk to each other, combined with the masks which, in addition to impeding speech, are intended to be a visual reminder that we should be afraid of each other.
Bravo. A pithy, humorous, and loving snapshot of life on planet earth. Reminds me that there is a special kind of resiliance in community and it's time to dive back in.
Did you find another gym?
I work out alone in my garage now.
You have the D&R Canal path right in your backyard - much better workout to walk/run/bike that and meet and chat with people along the way! If you do the northern spur on a bike (Trenton to Milford) there are several good pubs along the way to stop for a beer.
And the sunlight and fresh air and nature sure beat the dank basement of a gym!
Read 'Bowling Alone', readers.
Excellent book. Still relevant.
Re: Bowling Alone
Is it the lack of '"social bonds" that create despair; or the "social bonds" themselves that weigh too heavily on people? Nearly always when I hear/learn of someone committing suicide, the next thing I hear is about their family and/or friends and/or professional colleagues. No lack of "social bonds".
People with relationships can still become isolated. Most come to believe they are worthless, or a burden on those others. The suicide reasons their friends and family would be better off without them.
Just having bonds and relationships doesn't mean they're fulfilling, or healthy.
Agreed. Someone should have told that to Robert Putnam.
I got home a few days ago from spending a few months in Serbia, and it is always a disorienting transition concerning the level of social interaction you experience on a daily basis. With the Serbian town I spend part of my year in, daily life requires talking and interacting with other people, and you can't help but get to know those people in the process. If you sit down alone to drink coffee at a cramped cafe it's only natural to strike up a conversation with a stranger next to you - it's almost rude not to. If you have a question about something while in the street you can flag down someone and ask. I've never run into someone not willing to oblige me in that regard. These little interactions led over time to friendships and their corresponding social obligations, and have been the source of favors and assistance. And this course of experience is by no means isolated to Serbia. It's painfully normal.
In contrast, where I live in US, if I speak to a stranger my own age - a friendly comment or a joke about something - more often than not you would think I'd assaulted them. The reaction is discomfort. And I'm a woman, it's not like I'm particularly threatening. If I want to socialize here, I have to call and make arrangements. When I make friends here, it's always with my coworkers. There's no strolling down the promenade or other public space and relying on serendipity to do the rest.
It is deeply troubling how isolated and stratified we've become as a society, and how alienating that experience is. What is even more troubling for me is that this anti-social mode of living has become completely normalized. It is now gauche to call someone on the phone and - mercy - it's such an indignity when the automatic check-out stands are closed in the early morning at grocery stores. And could you imagine knowing the names of your asshole neighbors? Not in this lifetime.
It doesn't paint a very promising picture.
I believe that the level of isolation depends on the size of the town. In big cities everybody lives anonymously and is concerned only with their own business and safety. In small towns everybody knows each other (their religion, politics, love life etc.) and that could be a burden: small town, big hell. I come from a huge city where I never knew or was interested in knowing my next door neighbor's name. There is another factor related to isolation and it is our personality. Some are extremely gregarious and suffer when they are not in the company of a lot of friends, meanwhile others, like myself, love solitude and and choose to be alone.
You raise some excellent points, and there are many facets, subtleties, and exceptions in a topic like this. I share with you a retiring nature. I'd rather be holed up in some quiet corner with a book than just about anywhere else, and would much prefer to listen than speak. I probably have, as a firefighter, an overweening sense of civic responsibility and self-imposed duty overrode my inclination not to learn about my neighbors. But at the very least now they know they can call on me if they need help, even if it's keeping an eye on their house while they're away or corralling a particularly adventurous chicken until she can be collected.
I think that's part of what makes a neighborhood into something more than a collection of homes, and that sort of neighborhood can exist anywhere - with varying levels of mutual support. The most outstanding examples of neighborhoods which foster social bonds are found in cities with large immigrant communities. This comes from practical necessity, but I would argue there is also an aspect of cultural import. Outside of the US I have found this level of socialization and inter-reliance to be fairly commonplace.
What really troubles me is that there is such a palpable difference, as admittedly anecdotal as it is, between approaching a conversation with someone my own age and younger, and older people (who grew up pre digital revolution) as a stranger. And it is one that I simply do not experience while travelling. I am not sure where this general aversion comes from, but I would imagine the long decline of participation in community organizations, privatization of community spaces, and the wide adoption of social media as a surrogate for real-life association have at least contributed in part. It is so easy now, for most of us, to choose to avoid human contact and its inevitable discomforts. But I think that choice digital infrastructures enable us to make unfortunately comes with a societal cost, of which isolation is a small part.
Fully agreed. There is this thought from a very intelligent person:
"We allow our ignorance to prevail upon us and make us think we can survive alone, alone in patches, alone in groups, alone in races, even alone in genders." Maya Angelou"
I feel bad about contributing to the authoritarian state by being retired and mostly just interacting with my 15 year old niephew and her father. I have lost touch with my friends that I had as a union ironworker but, that’s because I just don’t want to be bothered with them. I guess something is wrong with me socially because I am not unhappy with the situation where I am doing what I want which is reading numerous books and learning about different things that I never had as much time to do while working. I think I’ve become somewhat of a misanthrope and I’ve noticed in my walks around my Hollywood, Florida neighborhood that being an old white guy seems to be an unpopular position to be in, in this multicultural neighborhood. I don’t blame them really because my peers have been often an obnoxious bigoted group of people. Finding out now that I’m contributing to the further decline of this country is somewhat unsettling and maybe I should try volunteer work for the numerous homeless people in this area so that I’m less of a negative component in this society. I thank Mister Hedges for further enlightening me as he’s been doing for years.