Community Part 2
I came home from a walk last week and dad asked me “Do you want a grill?”
I paused because that request came out of the blue. A complete non-sequitur. I had walked past him sitting on the couch, and had gone into the kitchen to get something to drink. I poked my head out of the kitchen and looked at him. Because of the angle and because his neck doesn’t turn as far as it used to (he’s got steel rods in there now), he couldn’t see me but I could see him.
“Yes?” I said. Because why not. But… “Why? How?” Was he offering to buy me one? Did he miss grilling food?
“Well, Glasses has one and she’s trying to clear off some space on her patio. I was talking to her and she asked us if we want it.”
Oh, that made more sense. Dad’s been talking to my neighbor, who I call Glasses pseudonymously. “Sure,” I said. “That’d be great!” If I had a grill I would definitely sometimes maybe grill things.
But my happiness at getting a grill for my patio was overshadowed by my sudden worry for my neighbor. “Hey dad,” I asked, “is she still getting evicted? What’s going on with that? Is she OK?” Maybe if dad is talking to her, some of that has come up.
He grunted in embarassment. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, voice low. “I didn’t ask. I didn’t think it was my place.”
Well that’s bullshit. That was my immediate thought. If she’s having trouble, and she feels isolated, that makes it worse. We should at least let her know… I don’t know. That we know, and it’s OK. But we don’t talk about this stuff. We don’t share it. We don’t ask after each other. It’s considered icky, taboo, impolite.
We don’t have community with one another. Our employers tell us not to talk about our salary, claiming it’s just bad karma, when in point of fact everyone in America, at a Federal level, has the right to discuss our salary with our coworkers, and there are penalties for employers who try to make policy against it. Talking about money feels shameful. They have made being poor, facing eviction, and not being able to pay our bills all off-limits for public conversation. They have trained us away from building any kind of common ground with everyone else in our circumstances. They have denied us community.
I’ve never been rich so I can’t be certain of this, but I bet the rich don’t feel the same social pressure not to talk about money, perhaps because they have so so so very much of it, and sharing stories about it helps them loot even more of it from the working class.
I resolved the next time I saw my neighbor to thank her for it, and ask her if she’s OK. It’s a start, right? Gotta build community somehow. Gotta start somewhere.