Going Social

      It’s possible I’m about to become a social butterfly after all these years.

      This morning after Iron Men and Gentle Yoga class – which, by the way, makes Thursdays my most sociable morning of each week (I talk to at least thirty people in the span of five hours) – I sat in my favorite booth and read from A. J. Swoboda’s book, The Dusty Ones.

      He wrote about a time when he drove to the bank, parked, walked up to the ATM to make some deposits and get cash, walked across the street to the grocery store to get dinner, went through the self-checkout line, and got back into his car. Swoboda wrote, “I sat down in my seat and realized that I had managed to make a deposit at the bank, get cash, buy groceries, and get back into my car not having to talk to one single person.” Feeling as though God wanted him to change the way he used both the bank and the store; he decided to stop using the self-checkout line or the ATM. “Neither of them forces me to look someone in the eye and see the face of God, the imago Dei.”

      Once again, I read someone else’s story and realized he was actually telling my own. Now that I’m apparently and mostly retired, I must make extra effort to be around people, be face-to-face with people, and to speak to people. I can easily go all day without talking to anyone. In the end it feels like a successful day.

      But is that how I want to live? Is that how I should live? After reading Swoboda, I wasn’t so sure.

      It reminded me of my experience during the spring of 2020 when the world shut down due to Covid-19. For me, working from home under quarantine was easy. My friend, Sam, wrote to me: “Your quarantine sounds like heaven to me.” He was correct. I’m one of those people who is not only content being alone most of the time, but who go out of their way to ensure solitude.

      But this morning’s Iron Men discussion caused me to reconsider the importance of personal relationships. For all my talk of solitude, I cherish close friends and companions. I can’t function intelligently or creatively all by myself. I need back-and-forth exchanges, to bounce ideas, ask questions, or tell stories to friends.

      So this morning, after reading from The Dusty Ones, I left my favorite booth and went to the grocery store to buy accessories for dinner. Like A. J. Swoboda, I enjoy using self-checkout because it’s faster and more efficient.

      Except, today, for the first time in about five years, I walked past the self-checkout corral and got in the Express 15-Items-Or-Less Line. (I know it should be 15 Items or Fewer, not Less, but I’ll leave that battle for another day.) I was very proud of myself for choosing to stand in line, and I prepared for eye-to-eye contact and friendly banter.

      But wouldn’t you know it. The customer in front of me had thirty-five items (yes, I counted them) and used five coupons. I couldn’t believe it. Here I was trying to do the right thing and be neighborly and personal, and now I’m in line behind someone who couldn’t care less about social norms. It occurred to me that God was putting my new plan to the test, to see if I was really committed to change.

      Well, feeling convicted, I waited patiently. And so did the young checker-outer. She was unperturbed by the conscious breach of the 15-Item rule; she smiled and did her job. When it was my turn, with my seven items, we both smiled and exchanged our “Thank you and have a great day” conversation. I felt good about my personal contact. Maybe this experiment will stick.

      I can’t promise to never use the self-checkout again. It’s too convenient, and sometimes I’m in a hurry, and sometimes I forget my good intentions and follow long-established habit patterns. But I’m planning to try to make more eye contact and exchange personal conversations going forward.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32