HS #104 2024.3.14
Isolation and Loneliness
A while back I found on YouTube an interview of Billy Graham way back in the early 60s. When asked what was a prevailing trouble in the U.S, his answer was “loneliness.” Most insightful – way back then.
Certainly, the problem has only gotten worse over the decades. And, with some thought, it would have been seen as inevitable.
It’s the bus seat phenomena. On a small bus with twenty seats, twenty passengers are forced to sit together. Although perhaps initially uncomfortable, conversations often develop. Indeed, this happened to me this past summer. With limited picnic table seating at Captain Ron’s Whitefish Stand in Munising, I asked two young men if my sister and I could join them. Introducing ourselves, we discovered that one of them grew up in Goshen Indiana and attended Goshen College – where my sister lives and worked. His cousin was a former student of mine at Hope College from the 90s. Before supper ended, I had exchanged greetings with my former student, and my sister had an invitation (from an aunt of one of them) for a tour of Torch Lake where she was heading the next day. All because seating was limited.
Conversely, if enough seats are available, everyone sits alone. The wealth of seats promotes isolation.
But that is minor compared to larger lifestyle choices.
Where do you live? Most of us live in single-family houses often with large yards. We have attached garages which further limit spontaneous interaction with neighbors. We also have air conditioning with closed windows rather than sit on porches and chat with neighbors as did previous generations.
Have you sat next to a person on a plane lately? Not long ago, a long flight afforded opportunity to exchange greetings. Even reading a book could lead to an interesting conversation. I used to choose books for flights with provocative titles with that in mind.
What now? We have the “advantage” of existing in our own world – even while sitting on a plane with 200 others. We watch the movie of our choice (no discussing a common movie), or are plugged into our own music or podcast.
Indeed, I find myself ruing the slanderous advice from the 1970 song, “If you can’t be with the one you love, then love the one you’re with.” We need more engaging with the one we’re with, rather than limiting ourselves to our chosen friends who are always available via Facebook or another social medium.
I live out this philosophy with a passion. Personally, I spend no time on Facebook. Instead I meet people wherever I go. People are neat – most of them. They have interesting stories. Especially ones sitting alone. Last summer in Munising I spied a young man sitting alone as I was playing Celtic music with a group at Falling Rock Café. Greeting him, I found he was a lawyer from Austin, Texas. He was well read and had written three novels. I invited him to join us at our cabin campfire, and discovered a most interesting personal story. He kept us entertained for the evening. Last year a similar greeting led to inviting a young chef from Grand Rapids for breakfast. Another interesting story.
In 1994, I joined 30 students and faculty led by Hope professor Harvey Blankespoor to Ecuador and the Galapagos Islands. I found myself envious of their close-knit villages with children running freely from house to house. They were poor in material, rich in relationships.
And they were clearly happy.
Perhaps that is why I lived fifteen years of my life in college residence halls. Four as an undergraduate, six as a graduate, and five as a resident director at Hope College when faculty served as hall directors. Twas rich living including classic movie nights with banana bread, ultimate frisbee and slip-and-slides. Since then, I have lived on East 12th Street, but seldom alone. Presently a 26-year-old and his 7-year-old son live with me – found on Craigslist.
All of these thoughts were generated from a recent phone conversation with a former inmate from Fort Leavenworth Federal Prison. I met him several years ago through Prison Mathematics Project. Now that he is paroled and living with his brother in southern California, we are continuing our friendship. When I asked him what he missed most of prison life, his answer was quick. Friendships. And friendliness. And smiles and greetings and easy conversations. Not to be found in the outside world. Which of us is in prison?
