Home, Part 2

You wouldn't believe how long it has taken me to process this enough to write about it. At one point, Brian even asked, are you trying to actually publish this somewhere, or is it just a blog? It's just a blog, I know. But I think this conversation lies at the core of my experience in Birmingham. I wasn't satisfied with the first version because it was too much - too many words, too many thoughts, a little too disjointed - so I'm breaking it up. Apparently, I have more to say on the concept of Home than I thought I did. Stick with me, though, please ... I hope somewhere in this tangle of words is something worth sharing.

Having said that, on to Home, Part 2:
Why Are Americans so Isolated?

"And if your home is just another place where you're a stranger, and far away is just somewhere you've never been ..." - Rich Mullins

For her senior project, my friend Cindy studied the connection between hours spent on the Internet and depression among college students. She found a pretty strong correlation. Forgive me for oversimplifying psychological study and scientific method when I say this, but basically she found that people who were depressed spent more time on the Internet than people who were not depressed. This was such an interesting statement to me that I wrote a paper about it. The Internet is heralded for connecting us, both to information and to each other. So why would the most connected among us also be the saddest?

More recently, I have become aware of the cell phone phenomena. Cell phones are marketed as making us accessible to one another. But what I usually see is someone talking on their cell phone, while the people sitting in front of them wait for them to finish. Exactly who do cell phones give us access to?

It seems to me that technology that was meant to keep us in touch actually keeps us apart, because it has replaced face to face interaction. Cell phones, email, text messages, blogs ... they are only letters and sounds. We need body language, eye contact, laughter, nuances in voice pitch and tempo, even silence to say what words cannot. When we are connected only through technology, we're only simulating a relationship. It's a fraudulent form of human connection.

But technology is not the only fraud.

Looking back, I can't believe how easily I adjusted to life in Nashville. I'd hardly even been to other states, and though I had moved, I'd never moved outside of Alabama. I remember walking in Shakespeare Park in Montgomery one night with Brian, crying because I was sure I would not be cool enough to make friends in Nashville. My experience proved my fears to be silly. I moved in June, and by August I had met Mikkee and joined a small group that became my circle of friends. Since I'd never really moved before, I had no idea what a blessing this was, how hard it should have been to meet people. I have been in Birmingham almost exactly a year, and there is no one for me to say good-bye to today that I did not know before I moved here. I have been here a year, and I have no emotional attachment to this city. Why is that?

There's a fundamental difference between Birmingham and Nashville, and I think it points to a larger cultural issue that keeps us isolated from one another. There's no town square here, no common meeting place. Birmingham is a series of neighborhoods strung along the interstate. Life is compartmentalized - drive here to work, here to worship, here to shop, here to eat. It's the opposite of Nashville, where people squeeze into coffee shops and bars, wanting to see and be seen, wanting to perform, but mostly just wanting ... this city has no common longing, no universal desire except escape from itself. It's the most isolating place I've ever lived. And from my limited perspective, it appears that the people of this city are content in their pursuit of isolation. Suburban life in general is fragmented, segmented ... all of life has been contracted out. Pay one person to cut your grass, another to keep your children, another to cook your dinner, another to listen to your problems. Even the concept of "community" is compartmentalized ... once a week, drive to this person's house, and be "in community" (whatever the hell that's supposed to mean) with them. If you think about it, it's a very weird and complicated way to live.

We were so isolated here ...

Most of you have probably heard by now that we are going to live in Kansas City for a little while. We're going to stay with our friends Halle and Todd and their seven children; they have offered their basement to us. To some people, living in a house with nine other people and one bathroom sounds like a bad dream. But I can't wait ... it's the opposite of suburban isolation. It's real community - not a fluffy concept, but eating and talking and praying and working and arguing and laughing together. There's nothing compartmentalized about that ... It will be probably be crowded, probably be loud, probably be exciting sometimes and boring sometimes and unfamiliar all the time ... but that's real life. That's real community. What a beautiful thought.