Blog 4.22.24

I had a perfectly lovely spring weekend so I’m kicking off the week refreshed and optimistic.

On Saturday, I hung out with my BFF all day. She had to make charoset and I assisted by cutting up a buttload of apples. I enjoy cutting fruit and veg, so I volunteered for the task. It was fun though. We always have fun, no matter what we’re doing. After that we went to the garden center, made a trip out to the asian market for some treats, and then hit a little thrift store by her house. Just as I dropped her off, the rain that had been predicted for the weekend started and by the time I got home, it was coming down hard. I made soba noodles for dinner and snuggled with my guinea pig, and passed out by ten.

On Sunday we had an Eid picnic with some of our longtime friends. Luckily, by Sunday morning the weather had cleared and it turned out to be a gorgeous, sunny day. I’ve known these friends at the picnic as long as I’ve been married (23 years) and a couple of them I even knew before that – they were my husband’s roommates in college. Once everyone started to get married we gelled into a little community. Now, we all have kids in college. So naturally, we sat around and compared notes. I worry so much about my kids and whether we’re doing right by them, and it’s nice to be able to hear from other parents who have the same worries. We laughed, swapped anecdotes, complained, and encouraged one another.

I realized after we left the picnic how valuable a community like this is. Growing up, my family moved constantly. There are only a handful of few people that I knew before my mid-twenties that I’ve been able to stay in touch with. I still “see” some old friends on social media, but we’re distanced both by geography and a lifetime of experiences we haven’t shared.

But having a group of people that you have been with year after year, watching each other evolve and raise kids and face illness and manage aging parents — there’s no substitute. It’s comforting in a way that is unexpected and delightful. It makes you feel safe and secure.

I think one of the reasons we struggle so hard for social cohesion in America is our diversity. You’d be hard-pressed to find a nation that has as much diversity as ours, and while it’s lovely, it’s also a big challenge. Americans don’t recognize that what we’re doing is unprecedented. Most of us are functionally rootless in ways people from other societies are not. A nation of immigrants, born of people who left their homelands, tribes and cultures. Even those of us who were born here regularly move states – and our states are like small countries – for a new job, or just for a different change of pace.

With the exception of going off to war, or being part of a designated ‘explorer’ class, most people in history belonged to cultures that were rooted in a particular place, benefitting from generations upon generations of shared knowledge and understanding. Even nomadic peoples who moved around did so together, taking their culture and identity with them. The sense of innate belonging – not just joining a club or forming groups based on superficial identity markers – is missing in America except in small pockets, including our indigenous people.

I felt a little of that yesterday. I hadn’t seen our friends in a while because life has been busy, but when we sat together on blankets in the warm sunshine, drinking chai and nibbling on baklava, there was no awkwardness, no need for explanations. We know each other’s histories and are familiar with our personal and cultural references, making communication easy and lively and fun. Like an electric current running through this small group, we exchanged anecdotes, told our stories, lamented our losses. It felt so… natural.

I’ve struggled socially my whole life, and a large part of is that I’ve had to start over with new people so often it becomes easier to just keep to myself. But in this case, I finally feel like I am a part of something. I also feel like I bring something unique to this group that makes it special – not as an interloper, but as a true member. And everyone else does, too. We’re an ensemble cast, bonded and familiar.

All of which is to say, I’m so very grateful for these friends. And they are friends. Real ones. The kind that are there when you celebrate, and show up when the shit goes down.

If you’re lucky enough to have been born into a community like this, I hope you know it. And if, like me, you weren’t – then I hope you know it’s still possible to find it, even long after you’ve said goodbye to childhood.