New Yorker Rejects #15 - Southern Hospitality

So I was in North Carolina recently, and this weird thing kept happening. A bunch of people I'd never met approached me, in public and wanted to talk. They kept asking these deeply interesting questions, such as:

Are men and women equally good at communication?

What is about some cultures that inhibit outsiders from feeling respected?

If humor is so important, does that mean we should try to make it more universally acceptable?

These were all on topics I love to talk about! It was bonkers, but they went even further than that. They started sharing personal things, stories about their life experiences. They wanted to– or at least it felt like it– work with me and think deeply about how to make the world a better place.

Or at least our little corners of it.

We laughed, and we cried (okay just me, and just on the inside) and then they thanked me and we all went on our way.

It was bizarre.

Granted, I had just lectured for four hours on those topics to these people. So I guess the setting and context made sense. But it was still surprising that the lovely people of the North Carolina felt so compelled to turn those lectures into a conversation.

Despite what anybody will say about me, I LOVE having conversations. I love these topics, and I love exploring funny, weird, interesting angles of the Big Questions™.

Oh yeah, and I love expressing gratitude, too. Or at least, I’m feeling a compunction to remind myself to practice that crap, especially in public, if I want to really embrace this whole hippie-dippie project called Life©.

You know what I DON'T love though? Negotiating the terms of how much broccoli individual children will eat. Why don't kids love broccoli? It's delicious!

Anyway, I'm not complaining about my kids. They're wonderful. But it's a lot of work, as literally anyone will know (and be willing to tell you, if they see you struggling and want to be helpful but are also a little bit irritated with you about something you did to them years ago).

So I'm just glad I've got the power of brain chemistry on my side. I don't know how I'd keep all this up otherwise.

Here's another thing I'm grateful for (wow—this intentionality crap really works!): my friends!

I actually have great friends, and although I'm pretty sure I can be annoying at times with constant attempts to drag the conversation into a metaphysical Marianas Trench, if I keep paying attention to the right social cues, I'll figure out a way to stay welcome.

But being in NC was also a great reminder that you can connect with people outside your village. Sure, it took the headache of airline travel to get there, but we should all be so lucky!

I mean– genuinely, if the most stressful part of flying in a plane is wondering if you remembered to pack the right phone charger, then we're doing pretty well. We still live in a relatively safe, functional world, as much as the headlines beg to differ.

So I'm grateful for all the things keeping me/us safe, even when I don't even realize they're there.

You know what else I'm working on remembering to be grateful for? My body!

Yes, it's aging and graying and also just technically decomposing at a somewhat-constant-but-also-ever-so-slightly accelerating rate, but it's also... STILL... working!

That's pretty amazing, and if I can't jump as high as I did when I was 25, well... I could never jump as well as any cat, either. So what's the difference?!

(Really, this is all an elegant subconscious scheme to convince myself to keep exercising.)

Rationally speaking, if I maintain physical health, that will help me achieve my goal of not being a contemptible pile of crap. Which will help me keep up some of the maintenance responsibilities that I... find myself... feeling responsible for?

Oh yeah, that means taking care of my kids. How do I get them to achieve this same level of insight on self-care? Wait 43 years?

No, no, they're great!

They're such wonderful, sweet children. And if I want them to do something, I just have to remember to do that thing myself. And make sure I do in front of them. And that they're paying attention to me when I do it. But I still have to actually DO the hard, mature thing I'm hoping that they'll eventually want to do on their own.

But table manners have never actually been my strong suit...

But I'm not as bad as them. The kids, I mean.

They're an absolute disgrace.

Anyway, I'd prefer to wrap up this whole post with a reminder (mostly to myself, the only person I reasonably expect to read this far) to practice gratitude. For whatever talent or skill you feel does suit you.

For me personally, I guess that's cartoons. Even though these were all rejected by The New Yorker, and my fan base is mostly my aunts (thanks Susan and Colleen and you too, Mom!) I still have so much fun making these silly things.

Lean into you.

Thanks, North Carolina.