Column: Longing for belonging; go small to go big

We Belong Together 

“Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile.” Albert Einstein 

by Nancy Turner 

Nancy Turner

I grew up in the 50s. Life was different back then. People actually talked with each other in person or on the phone. I don't want to go back and relive the cold war, with kids huddling under school desks thinking that would save them from an atomic bomb. I don't want to return to an era when a woman couldn't get a credit card without her husband's approval, and interracial marriage was illegal.  Homosexuals were considered nutcases and like Blacks, were often denied basic human rights.

I'm not about to romanticize the good ole days, but I do stand on my soapbox about how I miss the sense of community we used to enjoy.  

Our human brains haven't evolved much beyond when we belonged to nomadic tribes. These groups were small, topping out at 150 people. It was possible for everyone to know and assist each other within their tribe. According to an evolutionary cognitive psychologist, Robin Dunbar  (1992), our minds can't effectively connect on a non-superficial level with any more people than this.  The Dalles is a town of about 16,000. It's impossible for me to know even 10% of the people living around me. How can I create a personal tribe within a population too big for my mind to track? 

With the rise of technology, but with few evolutionary changes to our brains, we struggle with isolation. Ghosting, a term I never heard of in the 50s, is on a steep rise. Ghosting means a friend,  family member or colleague simply deletes you from his/her email list, cell phone directory and on-line affiliations. In a 2019 study researchers discovered people experienced, on average four such estrangements each year. They either deleted someone or were themselves dropped. With the click of a  button, gone. By 2022 the number of estrangements rose to eight. The researchers drew the conclusion that the rise of estrangement experiences corresponds to the rise of social media. I use Facebook to view national and local news, buy used furniture, check road conditions, and re-home stray cats. This technology is convenient, but there is clearly a downside to these services.  

We are missing the face-to-face contact that our minds and bodies depend on. Our ancestors could not just push a button and delete a person from their lives. This isn't natural for humans. Is it any wonder why more and more people, especially young adults and teenagers, feel alienated and suffer greater mental health issues than past generations? Many turn to drug use out of a sense of despair and isolation. An individual might be blamed for this, but I believe it's more of a breakdown of our society.  We've diminished our ability to connect with each other, to be inclusive of everyone, no matter what.  

A sense of belonging is essential to our happiness and our mental and physical health. People who nurture a strong social circle actually age better and live longer. Now there's a scientific study that began more than fifty years ago which supports what seems like common sense. You may have read  about the Harvard Study of Adult Development (The Harvard Gazette, Liz Mineo 4/11/17 Genes are  nice, but joy is better.) At the time Harvard students were all male. Each year, the graduates were given a lengthy, in-depth test about their lifestyle, health, diet, employment, and general sense of well-being.  Scientists discovered that more than factors such as money, occupation, prestige, or marital status, the 

subjects who lived the longest with the best health were those who maintained strong social connections. In isolation, we are more likely to experience more stress, illness, depression, and early death. The results of the study strongly supported the value of having positive relationships. Belonging to a group enhances our sense of self. Like many mammalian species, we are social beings. We belong together. 

Even though I know I need to increase my circle of friends I often avoid joining a group because I  expect to meet one or two individuals who could drive me nuts. It isn't a problem to have different views about politics, religion, parenting techniques, or world affairs. But what if there's someone who won't stop talking and dominates the conversations? This provokes my judgmental side. When I am annoyed because someone talks too much, I need to work on turning that judgment on myself. Aren't there times when I've gone on and on about something when silence would have been best? When  someone bugs me, the question I have to ask myself is, “How am I like that person?” The more energy the situation evokes in me the more likely I'm failing to look within and see the same flaw in myself.  When I learn to look beyond my petty irritation and see others as the walking wounded I am able to practice patience. I need to stop clinging to my opinions and be more open to considering what the other person might be going through. Maybe this person who blathers on is lonely and is suffering emotional pain. Who am I to judge? I need to look at the bigger picture, beyond my annoyance, and consider the real benefits of belonging.  

Patience is not passive. It is the act of waiting for something to happen, which isn't always easy.  Sometimes this means waiting for someone to sit down and be quiet. When I'm low on patience I want to go off and be alone, but to what end? I love solitude, but not all the time. If I look at the bigger picture I can consider the real benefits of belonging. In such circumstances, my focus has to be on why I want to participate with a group instead of letting one bad apple ruin it for me. 

I moved to The Dalles three years ago because I love the natural beauty and a dryer climate than what  I'd endured in Portland. I didn't know anyone but figured I'd meet people by doing things I like to do.  Often people in my circumstances seek out a religious community. Joining a church is a great way to  

meet people. As a Buddhist, I didn't find a good fit. However, I did get to know people as a new homeowner, busy renovating my hundred-year-old house. I had casual contact with carpenters,  plumbers, and electricians,. My small front yard was a mess of broken furniture, trash, and weeds.  While working outside I began to meet neighbors. When I needed a handyman (who turned out to be a handywoman), a painter, a car mechanic or a vet, it was my neighbor, Rusti who had all the referrals I  needed.  

Her house is across the street at a slightly higher elevation than mine. It's true, she looks down on me always with a smile. If one of my cats darts beyond my picket fence and I'm not nearby to douse it with the garden hose, Rusti yells at the cat to go home. The cat immediately stops, cringes, turns on a dime  and slinks home. As far as the cat is concerned, Rusti is a member of my tribe and one who must be obeyed.  

If you're looking for a way to expand your social circle, finding a small group of people with similar interests is a great way to make new friends. This seems like common sense and nothing worth writing about, but it's not as easy as it sounds. Be brave. Let people around you know what you're looking for.  Any group you join is not a lifetime commitment. Keep an open mind, and know you can always leave a situation that isn't right for you.  

Speaking of groups, there's a knitting group that meets weekly at The Dalles Senior Center.

In the past, I've knit a few things, but I'm not good at it. I figured I'd learn from those who know what they're doing, and maybe I'd make a new friend or two. The word knit doesn't just mean to make a garment or blanket of interlocking loops of yarn with needles or on a machine. It also means to unite or cause to unite. The dictionary I checked says the verb means to become closely and firmly joined together, grow together,  as broken bones do. Given the topic I'm writing about, it's appropriate to mention this group.

Knitting means unite on many levels.

We don't just create handmade works of art, we knit friendships. While we chat about our lives we handcraft lovely sweaters, scarves, and socks. It's interesting what small things get passed down from generation to generation. I treasure the handwritten pattern my grandmother followed to knit socks for men sent overseas in WW1. I always smile and simultaneously shed tears when I see that scrap of paper. It reminds me of her telling me how it broke her heart when her sweetheart went to Europe during the  war. He never came home. At the Senior Center, one woman knits little padded triangle-shaped “knockers” made of very soft non-itchy yarn. She donates them to women who have had mastectomies. Who knew?  

I was invited to join a group that met once a week for conversational Spanish. I felt an immediate camaraderie. One couple had been in the Peace Corps and others, like me, had traveled extensively in Mexico and other Latin countries. We took turns hosting the “charla” in our homes. In the early months of COVID before vaccines became available we met outside. One day when the group was scheduled to meet at my house something came up for me at the last minute. I had to leave before I  could notify everyone I'd be gone. I taped a note on my front door telling everyone I wouldn't be there and to come on in.  

Rusti had seen me drive away. She watched several people enter my house. She became suspicious.  With Nancy gone, what was going on in her house? Rusti strode across the street and cautiously opened my front door, not knowing what she'd encounter. Holding her cellphone video aloft, she entered and scanned the room. To her relief, all she found was a group of White people sitting around speaking  Spanish. 

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the  only thing that ever has.” Margaret Mead 

Sometimes we join groups inadvertently based on a necessity of some kind. When I lived in southwest  Portland the people in the townhouse next to mine were drug dealers. There was illegal parking, trash,  and coming and goings at all hours of the night. The police were called numerous times but never entered the unit. In spite of our complaints and evidence from surveillance cameras, the Portland Police did nothing. If Rusti lived across the street from my townhouse, I wonder what she would have done. It took all the townhouse owners joining together to hire an attorney and file a lawsuit to force the owner to sell and move away. We couldn't have done this individually. Together we felt empowered and shared the expense. We made our street safe again.  

If you are one of the new folks in town, or someone ready to expand your social network, there are many more opportunities than I can mention here. I hope to stimulate you to look around and find a  niche that fits your interests.  

For example, after retiring as a biology teacher, my sister, Jill Turner got involved with the Cape Horn  Conservancy. She went to planning meetings to help make decisions about how to preserve Cape Horn. The best part was wearing a rain jacket and hefting a shovel to repair trails with a work party. Jill made new friends who share her passion for being outdoors and doing good for our community. Besides that, the physical activity kept her in good shape. The friendships will help her be like those men in the 

Harvard study who maintain good health and longevity because they are connected to others. The  Conservancy will be planting native geum plants near the Nancy Russel Overlook, along with doing a  little light trail brushing. The work party will be on March 19th from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. Check them out if you want to have a fun day getting dirty. (capehornconservancy.org) 

I've seen newcomers to The Dalles get involved at The Dalles Art Center, a bustling hub of creativity.  (www.thedallesartcenter.org) Stop by and ask if they can use an extra hand with a project. They just might give you a task inside or send you to the garden with a shovel. Volunteering your time somewhere is a way to meet people and is a true gift to all of us. I know several people who help cook and deliver meals for people less fortunate. The Dalles Community Meals has been providing free meals since 1983. (thedallescommunitymeals.org) The Dalles Meals on Wheels, located at the Senior  Center, can always use more drivers to deliver food to the elderly in their homes. Maybe you'd rather help out in the kitchen and serve meals in the dining room. This is one more way to get to know people. If  you're interested, call 541-298-8333 

Keep an eye on CCCNews and The Columbia Gorge News for ideas. Just because money isn't exchanged doesn't mean the work has no value. Quite the opposite. Once again, I mention how important it is for us to tolerate our differences in order to participate in a group. This merits repeating.  Besides, you and I have our quirks too. We provide an opportunity for others to practice patience toward us. By volunteering somewhere, we might think we're doing a favor for a particular person or for our community but in reality, we are also the beneficiaries. Our sense of well-being improves and so does our health. It's a win-win all they way around. With good social contacts, we might just live long enough to see the improvements we worked for. Face it, we're happier doing good deeds, especially with others.