What if we could hang out in person? What if you knew where to stop by to find or create magic? What if you walked in and somebody said, “Oh good… you’re here!” We plan on having a building where SPACIOUS connections can flourish.
A neighbor died the night before last. And for rather a random reason, I knew about it right away.
I thought about telling another neighbor, who has known the person who died far longer than I have. But I held back. I felt like it was private. I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t telling tales out of school.
Then I thought, “Wow, the world has changed.” Where do the casseroles and pound cakes come from if we’re not supposed to spread the word when someone has something important happening in their family?
My last post was about parental over-protection, encouraging parents to give their kids the gift of assuming they can handle life, even if they make a few mistakes.
Today I’m thinking about an article I read, with a fascinating map that shows the diminishing roaming areas afforded four generations of a UK family. Whereas Great-grandpa used to be able to wander six miles alone when he was eight in 1919, Grandpa could go within one mile of home in 1950.
Have you ever seen someone in the grocery store who looked like he was looking for conversation more than looking for food to buy? Or have you been that girl who thought you’d wander the mall in hopes of striking a spark of human connection… just because you were lonely? I’m not talking about romantic pursuits; I’m talking about basic person-to-person engagement, something that used to be unavoidable and is now something that we cannot take for granted.
People used to sit on porches and talk to those who came by.
“I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain. I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end. I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend….”
My SPACIOUS partner Joey and I have had some good conversations about fire, reflecting on what it means to be on fire and to need to be on fire because there are icebergs to melt (a favorite quote of mine from abolitionist William Lloyd Garrison). Fire is an apt metaphor for me for energy,