The amount of small talk and chats I find myself having in ABQ compared to LA is mind-boggling. I convinced myself I wasn’t a small talk person because in LA, no one wants that. They want to get from one place to another with their head down (or in the clouds) and they don’t want to hear your insipid little drivel (at least, that’s the vibe I always got, so it’s the one I emulated). When I first moved here, I remember a barista just chit-chatting with me, and I looked around like, am I being punked? Surely they want to move me on my way and get the next customer’s order. And then i realized: i moved here for slow living. I moved here to meet new people. I moved here for community. I guess that means I moved here for fucking CHIT CHAT and I’d better relearn it.
i moved to georgia when i was 10 from miami and vehemently rejected all things southern. it wasn’t until i studied abroad in london, when i missed the small talk and the how are yous and the cicadas and sweet tea that i was like…omg i AM southern. i remember walking my dog before yoga one time, and having to email my studio to let them know i wouldn’t make it because i talked to my neighbor too long (i didn’t want to get charged the late cancel fee, lol). small but meaningful!
To be clear I now enjoy chit chat and do not speak of it derisively unless someone is really tugging my ear when I clearly want to gtfo. I don’t want to deride chit chat in this here chat!
This really has me thinking. My husband and I feel that we have both, and we feel extremely fortunate, on one hand, to know we have people in our lives who would show up when we need them. And we would show up for them.
However, I crave the type of community who shows up for each other on a regular and consistent basis. Not just when there's an emergency. The kind of friends AND community that I run into on a weekly basis, at a minimum. I crave that small Italian village type of community. Where you see your neighbors almost every morning as you grab a quick espresso or most afternoons for aperitivo.
Do we really have to move to cultivate this type of community? I'm honestly not sure anymore.
This resonates so much with me. I love that after a couple of years here, I know enough dog walkers to chat with, know their dogs by name, am someone they are willing to stop and chat to for a few minutes. The community of strangers, one of the best things to enjoy. It does, however, make me think of other Communities - small villages, or small towns - with huge identities that are actually exclusive by their insistance that "a day out of the town is a day wasted". That sort of formal, slightly coercive community, that either you're in 100% or you're an outsider. Sometimes "community" can be a weapon. Give me nonformal communities anyday.
It's such an interesting thing to think about, the balance between place, community, and friends. I live in a beautiful place amongst a close knit community, but my best friends don't live here. The last place I lived, I had both friends + community, but hated the place! I wonder if it's ever possible to have all three and if not, what I want to prioritize...
Can we also just take a moment to appreciate the most useful reminder in this: you're allowed to take notes! I've noticed a lot of language around friendship/community (and struggling with it) makes it sound as though we shouldn't "need" to write things down, pencil things in, etc. We should all just somehow be inherently "good" or more skilled at this. And that's BS. A huge part of building friendships/community is paying attention AND THEN making note of the important details of people's lives. My calendar is filled with not just kids' birthdays, but friends' important appointments and even a few dates they find difficult. It's in the calendar so I remember to check-in. That might seem like an unsexy part of building friendships and community, but it's one of the ways I commit myself to people/our relationships. So cheers to you, fellow note-taker!
My husband and I have made lists for what we want in a hole many times!
The first was a spreadsheet for an apartment in New York cities with a list of things we needed and wanted, as well as estimated commute times. We ended up in a huge, light filled loft with in Queens with no separated bedroom. We didn’t put walls on the list! It wasn’t that important.
The most recent version of that list is for a new city to call home. It has to have reproductive rights, it has to have good public transportation, it has to be walkable to places we want to go, it has to be interesting, access to quality food, and real estate options that meet our wants and needs. We are still on the quest but we are narrowing in on the where! We ended up deciding to try Japan because speaking the language isn’t on the list.
No place has all my friends or family, so that isn’t a huge motivator. I am definitely tempted to hitch my horse to a city when I visit a friend, but then what? Most places the people I love live don’t have all these things. I would be living somewhere that doesn’t fit just to be close to loved ones? Maybe the math will change someday but right now I know I can feed those relationships from afar but I cannot fake making a place different than what it is.
Oh my, thank you - I loved this so much. You put all of that so eloquently and those are some damn great questions…
We’re currently in the process of selling our home to move to a life as a semi-nomadic family. Our friends are spread out all over the country (and then the world) so that’s not a big thinker but we chat often about the community that we’ll leave behind. 🥺✌🏻🩵
I have a feeling we’ll find some new community contenders along the way though and I’m VERY excited about that!
THIS! "Friends are the people who show up when they’re in town. Community is who shows up regardless of who’s in town." Thatʻs pretty much what folks here in Kohala mean when how we behave mystifies newcomers or outsiders and we simply shrug our shoulders and say, "Kohala."
Years ago my husband pointed out that I know the name of every single dog in our neighborhood but not any of the humans. I used to refer to people as "Coco's mom" or "Shasta's dad" and if they didn't have a dog, then it would be "the person who lives next door to Coco's mom". I finally started a list of the names of my human neighbors in my Notes app (with the corresponding dog), so I can say hi to the humans and not just the dogs, but in my brain, they're still Coco's mom or Shasta's dad.
I've been trying to lean more into building and strengthening community as I get older and I really love how you described the distinction between community and friendship.
Friend is such a large category. I find myself drawn to my own version of the Dunbar circles theory: you have space in your heart/brain for 5 at most of the closest friendships, 15 at the next tier out, then 50 at the tier beyond that. Then 150 and then 500. And we're often asymmetrical: someone can be in my 15 (I would have them to dinner at my house) but I'm in their 50 (happily talk to me one on one at a larger gathering, but wouldn't be top of mind for an intimate dinner party).
Four years ago, a friend passed away. He'd been fighting pancreatic cancer for years, and in the months leading up to the end, it was not only clear that he was going to lose (this was always clear) but that the battle would be ending shortly. Anyway, he called me to say goodbye in his very last couple of days, and tell me what our friendship had meant to him. I'm sure he didn't call 10 people, maybe not even 5. Got me to thinking: who would/will I call? And how rare it is in this life to have people you'd take that time to call.
I don't know, I guess I'm in a mood this morning.
When my dad passed away, 9 years ago, my 3 siblings and I each had tasks we took on or were assigned. I drew calling his oldest friends, people I knew but hadn't seen in decades. I thought it was going to be sad and awful. And, once people understood that it was me calling, they knew why I was calling, and there was a moment of sadness and loss. And then they told me how important my dad had been in their lives, recounting stories. My dad wasn't George Bailey, and none of us is, but the lesson remains.
I don't know, I'm enjoying a level of community here in my small city. Maybe community is more head and friendship is more heart, maybe one arises more easily from situations, and the other takes a greater investment.
I guess maybe I don't really have a point after all. Happy Sunday, all.
Actually, in my community roles, I've been consciously scaling back, to make space for people 20 or 30 years younger than me. I experience a great many of the privileges afforded in our culture, and among these are the ability to step back without losing all connection.
I chose southern VT as a place to live - wanting to be in the country but near "culture". I traveled east a few times to visit friends, but there was one trip when I was on I-90 and I looked north while on the Mass pike, and the hairs went up on the back of my neck - "I want to live there" was what came to mind. And serendipity prevailed, I was divorced, back to feeling grounded, and through a contact found out about a job in Wilmington, VT. Flew out on July 4th weekend, got the job and moved in August. Kind of the way I live my life. I've been a mostly permanent resident in the very liberal and highly educated town of Marlboro, VT since 1989 (except my two years living in San Francisco). When I was teaching elementary school, I had a cohort of young teacher friends and felt very bonded. But eventually, they all got married and moved away.... each time a "fading connection". Then when I moved to San Fran that changed dynamics again. And when I came home to Vermont, nothing felt "normal". I didn't have the connections I used to have and felt "out of the loop". Once I started my consulting job, traveling to Asia 6 times a year, I was further removed and felt more out of it. There were established "cliques" from people who went to the local liberal arts college or taught there - and it felt impossible to break into those groups. But then I retired... and starting getting involved in the community. First I signed on to be Animal Control Officer for the town (helping reunite dogs and their owners, and sometimes having to give tickets for repeat offenders), then I became treasurer for a community fundraising group, = more connections, for a year I was secretary to the volunteer fire department (a more divergent group of people) and finally this January, I lead a strong bones weight lifting class for seniors and we have a hoot together.
So the long and short of it -is by getting involved I feel a true sense of community. Where I used to dread going to potlucks, I now know enough people (or they know me) so I feel welcome. I even joined a twice monthly knitting group of gray hairs. But deep friendship in this town has eluded me. I have had very close friends, but one friendship ended badly and my other best friend died.
What I can say is that at 71 (almost 72) l know I have community. If I need help I can post on our local FB page and there are always people who will show up. I know if I am sick, there are people who will bring me food, walk my dogs, and do chores for me. And I do the same for others. I think I've done six meal trains this past year.
But my nearest and dearest are far away. My soul sister lives in Maine, another friend of 20 years is German (and duh, lives in Germany). A friend I made when I lived in SF is still in SF. I have many friends I made when I was doing the consulting gig - and a few are still very close friends.
The comfort I take away is that I know there are people in my town who care about me and will support me when/if I am in need. My four fur babies give me love every day (2 dogs and 2 cats), I love living in the country where I can walk out my door to x-country ski or just take ambling walks, and sometimes I even hike the ridge behind my house (a very steep uphill).
I've thought about moving - being away from the brook that almost took my house in 2011 when Irene came tearing through, but I've made my house my own, and I can't imagine uprooting and starting over.... but who knows. Twice I have packed up my car and just moved because I was ready. For something.
Losing our well established friend community to moves and different life paths, was one of the primary reasons we decided to move on after more than twenty years in Alaska. Establishing a new group of friends in our new community has been slow. Yet, I feel like these friendship are more deliberate and meaningful. In part because of where we all are in life, but also because it takes bravery from all of us to be vulnerable. Somedays I feel up to that task more than others.
The amount of small talk and chats I find myself having in ABQ compared to LA is mind-boggling. I convinced myself I wasn’t a small talk person because in LA, no one wants that. They want to get from one place to another with their head down (or in the clouds) and they don’t want to hear your insipid little drivel (at least, that’s the vibe I always got, so it’s the one I emulated). When I first moved here, I remember a barista just chit-chatting with me, and I looked around like, am I being punked? Surely they want to move me on my way and get the next customer’s order. And then i realized: i moved here for slow living. I moved here to meet new people. I moved here for community. I guess that means I moved here for fucking CHIT CHAT and I’d better relearn it.
i moved to georgia when i was 10 from miami and vehemently rejected all things southern. it wasn’t until i studied abroad in london, when i missed the small talk and the how are yous and the cicadas and sweet tea that i was like…omg i AM southern. i remember walking my dog before yoga one time, and having to email my studio to let them know i wouldn’t make it because i talked to my neighbor too long (i didn’t want to get charged the late cancel fee, lol). small but meaningful!
I think that’s a wonderful reason to miss yoga!
To be clear I now enjoy chit chat and do not speak of it derisively unless someone is really tugging my ear when I clearly want to gtfo. I don’t want to deride chit chat in this here chat!
HONK IF YOU LIKE CHIT CHAT
"What is more important? Friends or community?"
This really has me thinking. My husband and I feel that we have both, and we feel extremely fortunate, on one hand, to know we have people in our lives who would show up when we need them. And we would show up for them.
However, I crave the type of community who shows up for each other on a regular and consistent basis. Not just when there's an emergency. The kind of friends AND community that I run into on a weekly basis, at a minimum. I crave that small Italian village type of community. Where you see your neighbors almost every morning as you grab a quick espresso or most afternoons for aperitivo.
Do we really have to move to cultivate this type of community? I'm honestly not sure anymore.
This resonates so much with me. I love that after a couple of years here, I know enough dog walkers to chat with, know their dogs by name, am someone they are willing to stop and chat to for a few minutes. The community of strangers, one of the best things to enjoy. It does, however, make me think of other Communities - small villages, or small towns - with huge identities that are actually exclusive by their insistance that "a day out of the town is a day wasted". That sort of formal, slightly coercive community, that either you're in 100% or you're an outsider. Sometimes "community" can be a weapon. Give me nonformal communities anyday.
It's such an interesting thing to think about, the balance between place, community, and friends. I live in a beautiful place amongst a close knit community, but my best friends don't live here. The last place I lived, I had both friends + community, but hated the place! I wonder if it's ever possible to have all three and if not, what I want to prioritize...
Is this the fast/cheap/good triangle of living?
Maybe!
Can we also just take a moment to appreciate the most useful reminder in this: you're allowed to take notes! I've noticed a lot of language around friendship/community (and struggling with it) makes it sound as though we shouldn't "need" to write things down, pencil things in, etc. We should all just somehow be inherently "good" or more skilled at this. And that's BS. A huge part of building friendships/community is paying attention AND THEN making note of the important details of people's lives. My calendar is filled with not just kids' birthdays, but friends' important appointments and even a few dates they find difficult. It's in the calendar so I remember to check-in. That might seem like an unsexy part of building friendships and community, but it's one of the ways I commit myself to people/our relationships. So cheers to you, fellow note-taker!
Yes!! It’s not weird, it’s being nice!
My husband and I have made lists for what we want in a hole many times!
The first was a spreadsheet for an apartment in New York cities with a list of things we needed and wanted, as well as estimated commute times. We ended up in a huge, light filled loft with in Queens with no separated bedroom. We didn’t put walls on the list! It wasn’t that important.
The most recent version of that list is for a new city to call home. It has to have reproductive rights, it has to have good public transportation, it has to be walkable to places we want to go, it has to be interesting, access to quality food, and real estate options that meet our wants and needs. We are still on the quest but we are narrowing in on the where! We ended up deciding to try Japan because speaking the language isn’t on the list.
No place has all my friends or family, so that isn’t a huge motivator. I am definitely tempted to hitch my horse to a city when I visit a friend, but then what? Most places the people I love live don’t have all these things. I would be living somewhere that doesn’t fit just to be close to loved ones? Maybe the math will change someday but right now I know I can feed those relationships from afar but I cannot fake making a place different than what it is.
Oh my, thank you - I loved this so much. You put all of that so eloquently and those are some damn great questions…
We’re currently in the process of selling our home to move to a life as a semi-nomadic family. Our friends are spread out all over the country (and then the world) so that’s not a big thinker but we chat often about the community that we’ll leave behind. 🥺✌🏻🩵
I have a feeling we’ll find some new community contenders along the way though and I’m VERY excited about that!
Oooh, that's an exciting change!
When are we going to get the story of how you ended up in trouble with customs in the BVI??
THIS! "Friends are the people who show up when they’re in town. Community is who shows up regardless of who’s in town." Thatʻs pretty much what folks here in Kohala mean when how we behave mystifies newcomers or outsiders and we simply shrug our shoulders and say, "Kohala."
Years ago my husband pointed out that I know the name of every single dog in our neighborhood but not any of the humans. I used to refer to people as "Coco's mom" or "Shasta's dad" and if they didn't have a dog, then it would be "the person who lives next door to Coco's mom". I finally started a list of the names of my human neighbors in my Notes app (with the corresponding dog), so I can say hi to the humans and not just the dogs, but in my brain, they're still Coco's mom or Shasta's dad.
I've been trying to lean more into building and strengthening community as I get older and I really love how you described the distinction between community and friendship.
Friend is such a large category. I find myself drawn to my own version of the Dunbar circles theory: you have space in your heart/brain for 5 at most of the closest friendships, 15 at the next tier out, then 50 at the tier beyond that. Then 150 and then 500. And we're often asymmetrical: someone can be in my 15 (I would have them to dinner at my house) but I'm in their 50 (happily talk to me one on one at a larger gathering, but wouldn't be top of mind for an intimate dinner party).
Four years ago, a friend passed away. He'd been fighting pancreatic cancer for years, and in the months leading up to the end, it was not only clear that he was going to lose (this was always clear) but that the battle would be ending shortly. Anyway, he called me to say goodbye in his very last couple of days, and tell me what our friendship had meant to him. I'm sure he didn't call 10 people, maybe not even 5. Got me to thinking: who would/will I call? And how rare it is in this life to have people you'd take that time to call.
I don't know, I guess I'm in a mood this morning.
When my dad passed away, 9 years ago, my 3 siblings and I each had tasks we took on or were assigned. I drew calling his oldest friends, people I knew but hadn't seen in decades. I thought it was going to be sad and awful. And, once people understood that it was me calling, they knew why I was calling, and there was a moment of sadness and loss. And then they told me how important my dad had been in their lives, recounting stories. My dad wasn't George Bailey, and none of us is, but the lesson remains.
I don't know, I'm enjoying a level of community here in my small city. Maybe community is more head and friendship is more heart, maybe one arises more easily from situations, and the other takes a greater investment.
I guess maybe I don't really have a point after all. Happy Sunday, all.
Actually, in my community roles, I've been consciously scaling back, to make space for people 20 or 30 years younger than me. I experience a great many of the privileges afforded in our culture, and among these are the ability to step back without losing all connection.
I chose southern VT as a place to live - wanting to be in the country but near "culture". I traveled east a few times to visit friends, but there was one trip when I was on I-90 and I looked north while on the Mass pike, and the hairs went up on the back of my neck - "I want to live there" was what came to mind. And serendipity prevailed, I was divorced, back to feeling grounded, and through a contact found out about a job in Wilmington, VT. Flew out on July 4th weekend, got the job and moved in August. Kind of the way I live my life. I've been a mostly permanent resident in the very liberal and highly educated town of Marlboro, VT since 1989 (except my two years living in San Francisco). When I was teaching elementary school, I had a cohort of young teacher friends and felt very bonded. But eventually, they all got married and moved away.... each time a "fading connection". Then when I moved to San Fran that changed dynamics again. And when I came home to Vermont, nothing felt "normal". I didn't have the connections I used to have and felt "out of the loop". Once I started my consulting job, traveling to Asia 6 times a year, I was further removed and felt more out of it. There were established "cliques" from people who went to the local liberal arts college or taught there - and it felt impossible to break into those groups. But then I retired... and starting getting involved in the community. First I signed on to be Animal Control Officer for the town (helping reunite dogs and their owners, and sometimes having to give tickets for repeat offenders), then I became treasurer for a community fundraising group, = more connections, for a year I was secretary to the volunteer fire department (a more divergent group of people) and finally this January, I lead a strong bones weight lifting class for seniors and we have a hoot together.
So the long and short of it -is by getting involved I feel a true sense of community. Where I used to dread going to potlucks, I now know enough people (or they know me) so I feel welcome. I even joined a twice monthly knitting group of gray hairs. But deep friendship in this town has eluded me. I have had very close friends, but one friendship ended badly and my other best friend died.
What I can say is that at 71 (almost 72) l know I have community. If I need help I can post on our local FB page and there are always people who will show up. I know if I am sick, there are people who will bring me food, walk my dogs, and do chores for me. And I do the same for others. I think I've done six meal trains this past year.
But my nearest and dearest are far away. My soul sister lives in Maine, another friend of 20 years is German (and duh, lives in Germany). A friend I made when I lived in SF is still in SF. I have many friends I made when I was doing the consulting gig - and a few are still very close friends.
The comfort I take away is that I know there are people in my town who care about me and will support me when/if I am in need. My four fur babies give me love every day (2 dogs and 2 cats), I love living in the country where I can walk out my door to x-country ski or just take ambling walks, and sometimes I even hike the ridge behind my house (a very steep uphill).
I've thought about moving - being away from the brook that almost took my house in 2011 when Irene came tearing through, but I've made my house my own, and I can't imagine uprooting and starting over.... but who knows. Twice I have packed up my car and just moved because I was ready. For something.
Losing our well established friend community to moves and different life paths, was one of the primary reasons we decided to move on after more than twenty years in Alaska. Establishing a new group of friends in our new community has been slow. Yet, I feel like these friendship are more deliberate and meaningful. In part because of where we all are in life, but also because it takes bravery from all of us to be vulnerable. Somedays I feel up to that task more than others.