Finding Connections, Making Connections

 

            It was a long and tedious drive through rolling hills, completely lacking anything for landmarks that would allow for identification, taking much longer than previously expected. Lunch time came and went, dinner time came and went until finally the sun disappeared behind the distant hills, bringing an absolute darkness that swallowed every detail.

              The hours continued to stroll by with the darkness growing deeper and deeper and more menacing, until he finally reached the small sign that welcomed him into his new community. As he rounded the corner, he saw nothing but dark homes, empty streets, and a complete absence of life and activity.

              While summer had not yet arrived, he parked the moving truck with the rolling door a mere ten feet from the ramp leading to the back door. He triggered the light on his phone to eventually find the key hidden beneath the door mat. As he entered the house he realized that it had been sitting cold for many days. A groan escaped his lips, eliciting the realization that he would need to exhume his mattress and a few blankets from the truck in order to generate a decent night of sleep.

              He woke with the late morning sun and spent the next six hours emptying the truck into the few rooms he now called home, navigating the larger furniture with a hand cart, a four-wheeled dolly, and the rare gift of spatial relations. Tired from too few hours of sleep, sore from singularly moving large pieces of furniture and scores of boxes of books, he eventually took a break, found something to eat and collapsed once again on his mattress.

              Feeling somewhat surly, sore, and tired, he knew he had a one-hour drive ahead of him to return the moving truck, to eventually return to a home that needed serious organization and cleaning before a normal life could be lived. He returned on the path he had just traversed, pulled into the alley, into his driveway, and collapsed once again on his mattress. He awoke a few hours later to a stomach that was offering serious complaints of neglect. “Ugh, food, I need to find something to eat,” he grumbled.

              Three days passed and he finally had a home that was in order, was clean, and was organized, allowing him to prepare himself for a small trip around the town to see what was available or open for business. In short order, internet service was installed, hot water was available, and his mail started arriving, but he had yet to meet any neighbors. He had been told by the realtor that this was a lovely small community full of good and friendly people.

              It was when darkness arrived that evening that he ate a quick meal from the few groceries he had brought with him, to then take a quick shower, and collapse into a bed that was now set up in an organized bedroom. He had two more days to get his office set up and ready to be used for a normal day of work. Giving the outside the occasional glance, hoping to see some forms of life, he saw little to no activity from his neighbors, but the occasional piece of farming equipment would pass by as well as a number of cars and four-wheel drive trucks.

              He stood in perfect silence, looking upon the hundreds of books that needed to be put onto shelves, when a knock sounded on the door to reveal a sweet, elderly woman holding a plate of cookies. He opened the door, she introduced herself, asked a few questions, which he politely answered, he thanked her for her act of kindness and watched her walk back to her home next door.

              Another day and evening passed, at which time he spent several hours outside striving to bring some order to the overgrown chaos of a yard and flowerbeds that surrounded the house. Hot, sweaty, and motivated to accomplish as much as possible, he finally called it a day with his outdoor work. He returned to his home, took a cool shower, and moved from room to room, making notes about improvements that needed to be made in each location.

              The following morning, he looked into his now empty refrigerator, which exhumed a memory of the small grocery store he had driven past on his way into town that dark evening so many days prior. “I guess I don’t have a whole lot of options,” he grumbled. Following a friendly conversation with the grocer, he bought only the necessities, returned home after a two-block walk and met his other neighbor on the south side of his home.

              His next several days of forced, social interaction seemed pleasant enough, but he knew full well that people were nice because people are supposed to be nice. Smiling and making small talk, he ground through the behavior he knew what was expected of him, struggling to ask questions, answer questions, and give off the appearance of being genuinely interested.

              Warm weather finally appeared, giving him the opportunity to sit on his front porch, enjoy the warmth, the never-ending breeze and the occasional small talk from people walking past. He was ever in a state of awe as he watched so many people so effortlessly making small talk, an exercise which seemed to come so natural to them all. This was a gift he had never quite mastered, as stories about what he had done the evening before and what plans he had for the next several days, we forced from him.

              As multiple months passed, he continued to see the effort others put into making friendly conversation with him, an exercise he appreciated, as he spent most of his time alone. He worked hard to remember names, ask questions, and try to bring the level of intelligent conversation up a few notches without sounding pretentious. The conversations always turned to sports, to movies, to entertainment, and to the latest events on social media.

              Over time he learned to go with the flow, staying friendly and cheerful, all the while feeling dishonest and bored. It was only when he visited church on Sunday mornings that he could finally engage in intelligent, honest, and beneficial dialog. The contrast between his weekday interactions and the sliver of time spent with fellow church goers was alarmingly stark.

              In an attempt to keep his mind engaged and focused on something of value, he immersed himself in study and in writing, seeking to always improve and challenge his mind and heart with things of goodness, beauty and truth. The months continued to pass, and finally several years crept by, each social interaction bringing with it a new level of frustration and boredom, wishing for someone with whom he could interact that would offer him something of value with which to improve himself.

              It was with great sadness that he knew this sort of intellectual challenge would never happen in this small town. The never-ending hunger for growth and improvement was simply not a reality he would ever experience or enjoy any time soon, apart from his time with those of likeminded faith.

              Like a starving man with very few options, he consumed the mediocre bit of social interaction that was available, giving him just enough to keep him going. He felt like a man who loved primed rib but was limited to a meal of hot dogs, macaroni and cheese and green Jello. Maintaining a friendly face, offering a few kind words, and interacting whenever the opportunity arose, he learned to be content with the sliver of goodness that was available to him.

               As time continued to pass, he could feel the tiny sliver of hope within him continue to shrivel. He supplemented this mediocre diet of simple and friendly people by continuing to challenge himself with academic challenges, an ever-expanding field of knowledge, and opportunities to write and teach something of value. He repeatedly lowered his expectations with each social interaction, knowing that finding someone who could offer him some dialog of value to partially satiate his need for growth was never going to happen.

              His social circle continued to shrink, giving him the few hours on Sunday to interact with others who were on his same level and with shared fields of interest. During his long drive to church, he would think about with whom he would speak, upon which topics, and for how long these valuable conversations would take place, giving him hope for growth and understanding. Eventually everything leveled out, he learned to balance the inane, silly, social interaction during the week, against the excellence with which he immersed himself on Sunday, giving him enough to grow, to learn, and to improve.

              A higher standard had been set before him, a standard he chose to embrace and not be content with the low bar of those around him. He understood the potential for influence from his culture, and he made himself aware of the situation, choosing the higher road.