Who’s your neighbour?

When I was little there was a song on the kids show Sesame Street that went something like this:

Who are the people in your neighbourhood? In your neighbourhood. In your neigh…bour…hood…
Say, who are the people in your neighbourhood?

It ended with this little bit of wisdom:

They’re the people that you meet when you’re walking down the street.
They’re the people that you meet each day!

It introduced kids to the different kinds of people who might be part of their community like the dentist, the garbageman, the doctor…

Neighbour is one of those words that can be a pretty open one. Is your neighbour the person who lives next door to you or across the street? Is it the people who live on your block? Or in your town?

Or is your neighbour any one of the 7.6 billion people who share the same planet?

It’s the people that you meet…

Every time My Sweet and I travel we meet the most interesting people! Of course, meeting them means slowing down long enough to have a conversation and show a little interest. I chatted with a lady on the plane for almost three hours and she kept saying, “I never talk to people on planes like this. There’s just something about you!”

I laughed. It does seem to happen to me pretty regularly. Maybe it’s because many of my jobs have taught me how to ask questions that encourage people to open up. I don’t know. I just know that I keep meeting people who seem to be looking for someone to listen to them and I don’t mind being that person, at least not most of the time.

When I asked this lady if she had worked outside of the home, she lit up. I mean her entire demeanor changed.

“Oh yes,” she said. “I was a preschool teacher!” And the light in her eyes and the smile on her face told me everything I needed to know about what this woman’s passion had been and continues to be. She and her husband had recently relocated to be closer to their daughter and her family in order to help with the grandchildren, one of whom has special needs.

She talked about how much she loves being able to help with the children, but how challenging it has been to make friends in their new community. She misses her old friends. She’s trying, but it was clear that she was longing for the close connection of a good friend. I hope with all my heart that she finds one.

We talked about the polarization of America (but it’s not just America), how the middle ground, the common ground, seems to have disappeared. She shared her concern that people don’t seem to be able to put aside politics long enough to realize that deep down we all want the same things: a safe home for our families, decent jobs to support ourselves, and the freedom to live without fear.

The fine art of conversation

I didn’t disagree with her. Being able to listen, ask thoughtful questions, and consider the response is how we discover common ground. It’s been called the art of conversation which seems to be rapidly becoming a lost art.

While we were on this particular trip, the friends we were visiting treated us to a night at a Bed and Breakfast situated on a beautiful estate vineyard and winery. The B&B also had a beautiful, classy, and somewhat high-end restaurant. A young couple were seated beside each other at the bar. They had come in together, hand in hand, sat down and pulled out their phones which they remained captivated by even while they drank their cocktails.

Sadly, that seems to be more and more the case. We go out in our own town for ‘date night’ and see couples all around who don’t seem to be able to leave their devices alone and pay attention to their partner. Smart phones and search engines have replaced dinner conversation and table debates.

Simple curiosity and polite small talk can lead to the most interesting conversations though!

Unexpected common ground

We visited a local ‘restaurant’ on our most recent trip. I use that term ‘restaurant’ in the most casual sense because the orders were given at the window of a food truck, the food cooked in outdoor fryers and on grills, and (mostly) eaten on an open-air patio. The indoor dining area had a definite warehouse/garage vibe with OSB walls, concrete floors, plastic tables, and folding chairs. The food was simple, but fabulous!

The establishment manager came to greet us and check how our meal was. He asked where we were from and we said British Columbia. He stepped back dramatically and said, “Git out! I’se from Lethbridge, Alberta.” Add a soft, deep, and heavy southern accent which I will attempt to simulate with approximated spelling.

My Sweet and I both smiled and thought to ourselves, “I don’t think so.”

But this lovely man, somewhere in his early fifties maybe, with his dark skin and enthusiastic gestures, went on to tell us he had been drafted out of college by the Toronto Blue Jays and played in the minor leagues in Lethbridge and Medicine Hat. He talked of how much he loved Canada, even serenading us with a portion of our national anthem. He proudly showed us a photo on his phone of his rookie card while he talked about how much he loved to keep ‘loonies’ in his pocket. He said his name which we didn’t quite catch, but then said, “But erebahdy jus’ calls me T-bird.”

I wish we had been able to talk to him more because I had questions. I wondered how a potential major league baseball player came to walk with the painfully appearing, rolling gait reminiscent of a polio survivor?

Everybody has a story.

Simple conversation.

Small talk.

“Where y’all from?”

One question and common ground was discovered.

The lost art of conversation, noticing those around us and engaging with them, is what turns a stranger into our neighbour. It makes our world a smaller and much friendlier place and we could use that right about now.