There are definitely a lot of tropes out there about how “no one is neighborly” anymore, probably dating back to Bowling Alone, if not before that. The stats are often gloomy, with most Americans saying they only know a few neighbors, if any. I moved into a house in September 2020 (#PandemicMarket), and I would say I know most of my neighbors, but hardly all. Have I asked some for stuff? Absolutely. Have they asked me? No doubt. We have a good little neighborhood.
I have this dude who cancelled me on LinkedIn, before LinkedIn cancelled me from LinkedIn, and I still subscribe to his newsletter. He wrote one a few weeks back bemoaning that, instead of asking for salt/sugar when you need it, you just same-day Amazon it, and it arrives on your porch in 3 hours (which admittedly is a long time to wait for salt), or you drive to Kroger and get it, all almost to stay in your bubble and your process and your tasks and avoid the community that’s more valuable, but might take time and go sideways discussion-wise. It’s a trope for sure — some people are more neighborly, some people think tech is amazing, some people like to drive, we’re all different — but there’s definitely a kernel of truth there.
I’m relatively close with my pastor these days, and he adopted (fostered then adopted) a sibling set of black kids. He and his wife are white, and they have one biological white kid. That’s a tough integration but thankfully, at the same time, they moved into a new neighborhood that has a mix of white, black, and Hispanic families — and that’s been a godsend for overall connection and community, because kids riding bikes together tend not to care what color you are, just that you’re fun to ride bikes with.
To wit, I saw this in a newsletter yesterday:
I wasn’t intending this, but everything we’re talking about really is all the same story. We trick ourselves into thinking that there’s some pathway to salvation, to happiness, to fulfillment — that we can forge on our own. It’s white people tricking themselves into thinking we can transcend racism in isolation from one another. It’s a well-heeled home owner searching for their own little perfect mountain hideaway. Those kind of quests will always reveal themselves to be empty in the end. The antidote is always turning deeper towards each other. It’s in moving away from being consumers-next-door to actually being neighbors. It’s staring down the part of yourself that doesn’t want to show up to that organizing meeting, that says it’ll be awkward and that you’ll be rejected and that the forces of capitalism and patriarchy and racism are too strong… it’s about looking all those emotions in the eye and then showing up anyway.
Don’t be a consumer-next-door or a Bubble Barry. Talk to people. Learn their stories. See where they’re different, even though your lots are adjacent. It’s probably the only path out of some of the bullshit we’re experiencing right now around partisan and polarized nonsense.
