The power of being known
Our van's air conditioning is out. Again. It's become an annual event to turn on the air on the first hot day after winter only to discover that the small leak in the coolant system that cannot be located has done it's work again over the summer and emptied the system. Because some of us will be driving up to Michigan next week, it seemed kind of important to recharge the system so the poor children stuck in the back of the van didn't expire before we arrived. This required the logistics of figuring out when we could be without the van, when the shop had an opening, and how it all would work.
Our local dealer is incredibly nice and found a way to squeeze up in. M. is home so we have access to a second car. The van is now in the shop to have its ability to cool restored. (I truly cannot tell you how happy this makes me.) As J. and I were driving home after I picked him up from having dropped off the van, he mentioned that he feels as though we will use this place forever for the sole reason that the staff remember his name when he walks in.
It is a powerful thing to be known and it happens so very infrequently these days, particularly if you live in a larger city. There is something so very dehumanizing about being just part of the mass of people who pass through somewhere.
I had my own experience with this a couple of years ago in the very beginning of our move. We had attended our church for a few months and I had signed up for the weekly women's Bible study, both because this is something I enjoy and because it felt like a good way to get to know people. I was a little nervous as I walked in because having to interact with a group of people you don't know is always a challenge if you are as introverted as I am. I walk in the main doors of the church building and the women who are in charge of the women's Bible study see me, smile, and say, "Welcome, Elizabeth!" I was blown away. I knew who they were because I had seen them before, but I'm not sure I could have dredged their names up from the recesses of my memory. I think I had interacted with each of them once before. It was exactly what I needed and immediately made me feel more comfortable. It was powerful.
I think this is why this move has been challenging on a certain level. We moved from a place where I had lived for over thirty years. It didn't happen everywhere, but in the places I frequented, I was known. This was particularly true at the library where we had gotten to know some of the librarians well enough that we had had them over for dinner. (I'm still working on being known at my new library. It seems to be a tough nut to crack in that respect. And it's not as though we are not in there all the time.) I was talking about this with M., and in the course of our discussion I realized that there was another, more powerful piece about missing being known. I realized that not only was I known in our old community, but I was known in the context of my mother-in-law as well. So many people knew her, and often, for a very long time, people would see or hear my last name and ask if I was her daughter. (We looked a little bit similar.) This would happen even after she had passed away, and I realized in talking about this, that it was a small way that kept her memory alive for me. For the last few years we lived in our old house, this happened less and less frequently. I think it was one reason I felt emotionally able to move.
But now, I have the long hard work of becoming known in a whole new community, and this one completely detached from past history and loved ones. It makes the feelings of being anonymous a little more poignant. With all this in mind, when someone does recognize me or use my name, it becomes a big deal.
I am preaching to the choir here, because remembering people's names is incredibly challenging for me. I would be thrilled if we all walked around with name tags because seeing a person's name in print makes it much easier for me to remember it. But, make an effort to remember and use someone's name, particularly if you run a business or are part of an organization which welcomes new members. It is a powerful way to connect with that person and make them feel valuable and known. And couldn't we all use that as we go about our day?
Our local dealer is incredibly nice and found a way to squeeze up in. M. is home so we have access to a second car. The van is now in the shop to have its ability to cool restored. (I truly cannot tell you how happy this makes me.) As J. and I were driving home after I picked him up from having dropped off the van, he mentioned that he feels as though we will use this place forever for the sole reason that the staff remember his name when he walks in.
It is a powerful thing to be known and it happens so very infrequently these days, particularly if you live in a larger city. There is something so very dehumanizing about being just part of the mass of people who pass through somewhere.
I had my own experience with this a couple of years ago in the very beginning of our move. We had attended our church for a few months and I had signed up for the weekly women's Bible study, both because this is something I enjoy and because it felt like a good way to get to know people. I was a little nervous as I walked in because having to interact with a group of people you don't know is always a challenge if you are as introverted as I am. I walk in the main doors of the church building and the women who are in charge of the women's Bible study see me, smile, and say, "Welcome, Elizabeth!" I was blown away. I knew who they were because I had seen them before, but I'm not sure I could have dredged their names up from the recesses of my memory. I think I had interacted with each of them once before. It was exactly what I needed and immediately made me feel more comfortable. It was powerful.
I think this is why this move has been challenging on a certain level. We moved from a place where I had lived for over thirty years. It didn't happen everywhere, but in the places I frequented, I was known. This was particularly true at the library where we had gotten to know some of the librarians well enough that we had had them over for dinner. (I'm still working on being known at my new library. It seems to be a tough nut to crack in that respect. And it's not as though we are not in there all the time.) I was talking about this with M., and in the course of our discussion I realized that there was another, more powerful piece about missing being known. I realized that not only was I known in our old community, but I was known in the context of my mother-in-law as well. So many people knew her, and often, for a very long time, people would see or hear my last name and ask if I was her daughter. (We looked a little bit similar.) This would happen even after she had passed away, and I realized in talking about this, that it was a small way that kept her memory alive for me. For the last few years we lived in our old house, this happened less and less frequently. I think it was one reason I felt emotionally able to move.
But now, I have the long hard work of becoming known in a whole new community, and this one completely detached from past history and loved ones. It makes the feelings of being anonymous a little more poignant. With all this in mind, when someone does recognize me or use my name, it becomes a big deal.
I am preaching to the choir here, because remembering people's names is incredibly challenging for me. I would be thrilled if we all walked around with name tags because seeing a person's name in print makes it much easier for me to remember it. But, make an effort to remember and use someone's name, particularly if you run a business or are part of an organization which welcomes new members. It is a powerful way to connect with that person and make them feel valuable and known. And couldn't we all use that as we go about our day?
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