Sometimes family is not related by blood. You can meet them in the grocery store, the park, or like me this week, on vacation at a campground. Everywhere I turn there are happy people who love their time here. That has become so rare in my world.
Most people I see are in a hurry to get to their next thing. Listening and paying attention to others has become rare. Isolation has become normal and add to that social media, you can fake that you have friends and listening is replaced with a “like” symbol.
As I have always known, every person has a story to tell. This week there are many that have openly told theirs. Some have kept us laughing while others brought tears and empathy. Each campsite is unique and radiates an individual welcome sign for all who pass by. The common denominator though are patios with lights that twinkle saying “come on in — tell us about yourself.”
When did neighborhoods become so unfriendly? Why does different mean fear? Why are backyards empty? Isolation has become an accepted daily ritual. That safety net is the road to loneliness.
I am convinced it is time to change the community atmosphere. Every block should designate the house where everyone feels welcomed and finds real social interaction. Walking in the door means turning off the TV and cell phone — listening to individual stories of the week.
Re-learning a feeling of community will feel like riding a bike. It won’t be hard to remember how to do it.