Dear Neighbor,I think often about the impact the several years of pandemic had on us Americans, and I always find myself realizing that there were other strong influences happening at the same time—some of which I mentioned last month when referring to the phenomenon of using “voice memos” sent from a phone instead of actually talking with someone. We have been influenced by having everything we want ordered with the click of a few buttons on your cell phone and delivered and left at the door. And yet in France, for instance, if a shopper fails to say hello to the shop owner, it is an insult and lack of proper etiquette.
But what I really want to say is this: I miss dancing. I miss the intimacy of dancing, a way of acceptable physical communication in social situations. Many people have lost the simple ability of looking someone in the eye and engaging with them. And dancing was a way to learn how to do that. Remember your first dance experience? How scary and thrilling? It wasn’t always a success (I was too tall for ANY of the boys in my class to ask me to dance at my sixth-grade canteen. I would listen to the final song, Good Night Ladies, and realize I had failed again to advance my social skills, which was the key purpose of putting sixth-grade kids together in awkward situations.) I Googled “why don’t people dance like they used to?” And here’s what I found, in part:
“. . .It’s unfortunate because there’s something truly special about dancing along with a large group of like-minded people who are all enjoying the same song. Really makes you feel human in the best way. . .”
“. . .Ironically, the once-chaste act of slow dancing may now be more taboo among young people, because of the intensity of its intimacy. When you are slow-dancing, you are face to face with another person, staring into their eyes for an extended period of time. . .”
We decided to re-watch The Godfather 1 the other night, and the scene of Michael Corleone and Appolonia dancing at their wedding in Corleone, Sicily was filled with such meaning. And then I thought about Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain and how he imagined dancing with a woman while twirling around a lamppost. . .and the famous Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. All implied such romance and enjoyment of creating art with two bodies moving together.
I was 13 years old when I was practicing dancing with my girlfriend, using a doorknob as the jitterbug dance partner. I began going to dances on weekends: Friday night was The Boys’ Club and Saturday night was the Media Armory (now a Trader Joe’s) with my closest friend Janet. Meanwhile, my brother was going to the Holy Cross dance in Springfield, and St. Alice’s in 69th Street. I never went to American Bandstand, but I was an avid watcher every day after school. More practice. I had Elvis Presley crooning directly to me in the 4th row at the Tower Theater just after he did his wild gyrations in Jail House Rock and Blue Suede Shoes.
When I got my first car, we’d do weekends at the shore, beginning on Friday night with all the clubs in Somers Point, NJ; and when they closed at 2 am, we’d move on to The Dunes, open till 5 am. Dance, dance, dance. After that, sleep on the beach and do the same dance Saturday night. Sundays we hit the jam sessions in Wildwood for more dancing before heading home. During the week we had our favorite clubs near home for more dancing.
Later, as young adults, one of our business leaders also had a square-dance attire and Western wear business. He talked us into taking square dancing lessons and joining a square dance club. That was one of the most fun and high-energy experiences over several years we’ve ever had. I am sure my ruffled petticoats are still up in the attic.
Here’s the bottom line: people who don’t dance together (together being a key word, since most people are dancing by themselves, usually self-consciously) are missing out on a lot of fun. So that’s my hope for you, in whatever you’re doing: Dance like nobody’s watching. And dance with someone!
Happy Fourth of July!
Your Neighbor,
Anne Pounds
But what I really want to say is this: I miss dancing. I miss the intimacy of dancing, a way of acceptable physical communication in social situations. Many people have lost the simple ability of looking someone in the eye and engaging with them. And dancing was a way to learn how to do that. Remember your first dance experience? How scary and thrilling? It wasn’t always a success (I was too tall for ANY of the boys in my class to ask me to dance at my sixth-grade canteen. I would listen to the final song, Good Night Ladies, and realize I had failed again to advance my social skills, which was the key purpose of putting sixth-grade kids together in awkward situations.) I Googled “why don’t people dance like they used to?” And here’s what I found, in part:
“. . .It’s unfortunate because there’s something truly special about dancing along with a large group of like-minded people who are all enjoying the same song. Really makes you feel human in the best way. . .”
“. . .Ironically, the once-chaste act of slow dancing may now be more taboo among young people, because of the intensity of its intimacy. When you are slow-dancing, you are face to face with another person, staring into their eyes for an extended period of time. . .”
We decided to re-watch The Godfather 1 the other night, and the scene of Michael Corleone and Appolonia dancing at their wedding in Corleone, Sicily was filled with such meaning. And then I thought about Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain and how he imagined dancing with a woman while twirling around a lamppost. . .and the famous Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. All implied such romance and enjoyment of creating art with two bodies moving together.
I was 13 years old when I was practicing dancing with my girlfriend, using a doorknob as the jitterbug dance partner. I began going to dances on weekends: Friday night was The Boys’ Club and Saturday night was the Media Armory (now a Trader Joe’s) with my closest friend Janet. Meanwhile, my brother was going to the Holy Cross dance in Springfield, and St. Alice’s in 69th Street. I never went to American Bandstand, but I was an avid watcher every day after school. More practice. I had Elvis Presley crooning directly to me in the 4th row at the Tower Theater just after he did his wild gyrations in Jail House Rock and Blue Suede Shoes.
When I got my first car, we’d do weekends at the shore, beginning on Friday night with all the clubs in Somers Point, NJ; and when they closed at 2 am, we’d move on to The Dunes, open till 5 am. Dance, dance, dance. After that, sleep on the beach and do the same dance Saturday night. Sundays we hit the jam sessions in Wildwood for more dancing before heading home. During the week we had our favorite clubs near home for more dancing.
Later, as young adults, one of our business leaders also had a square-dance attire and Western wear business. He talked us into taking square dancing lessons and joining a square dance club. That was one of the most fun and high-energy experiences over several years we’ve ever had. I am sure my ruffled petticoats are still up in the attic.
Here’s the bottom line: people who don’t dance together (together being a key word, since most people are dancing by themselves, usually self-consciously) are missing out on a lot of fun. So that’s my hope for you, in whatever you’re doing: Dance like nobody’s watching. And dance with someone!
Happy Fourth of July!
Your Neighbor,
Anne Pounds
060424 Neighborly News June 2024
Subject Line: Let’s Get Personal. . .PLEASE
Dear Neighbor,
These are such strange impersonal times in so many ways, but here is a particularly strange impact of the sense of withdrawn-ness so many people feel but have seemingly lost the ability to go back to what made them happy—and I am referring to the simple pleasure of human interaction. It almost feels as if we crazy humans look in every possible (mis)direction to find satisfaction in our communications, and the latest is this: instead of actually engaging in conversation WITH someone, we try everything else: emails, texting, voicemails, and now: VOICE MEMOS!
This trending approach to so-called communication is detailed in an article below, but as I was stimulated to find out how much of a “thing” it is, I did a search, and I found many articles for and against it. Maybe it came from the increase in podcasts, many of which I find too rambling and space-filling. I tend to believe this would be the case with voice memos, too. Why? Because the missing ingredient is YOU! You don’t get to insert a comment, question or disagreement on any point. I happen to think it could be another version of what has come to be called on social media the “humble brag.” If you click on the link below and read this article, you can imagine someone being as a party (where you are not) and rambling on about who’s there, the food, drink, activities, host, and more. Here’s the link to the article:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2024/05/20/voice-memos-everywhere/
From the article, this quote:
“The voice note is this attempt to go back to calling, without actually calling,” Trub said. “There’s such a taboo around calling people; there’s such a fear of interrupting people’s lives.”
I told you these are strange times—a taboo?? I will admit it: I leave long voicemails for friends, and then I often text to say, “I just left you a voicemail.” I do this because some people never answer their phones or return a call, so I treat the voicemail as if I am speaking to them. My hope is that they’ll call back to respond. Sometimes it works; sometimes it doesn’t. I also have another method to connect: I send a text asking for a good time to talk, and then we use texts to “set an appointment” for the call, when we are both relaxed and able to enjoy a conversation.
A realtor who says voicemails are “. . .a looming thing in which someone wants something from you,” says this:
“Recording the [voice] messages feels joyful (sometimes because she’s had a few drinks, other times not) and there’s a thrill to speaking so long uninterrupted.”
That joyful declaration sounds a bit narcissistic to me. Maybe that’s what comes of being in such a vacuum. I hope she doesn’t call me when she’s drunk.
Recently we had a noteworthy day. In the morning, we looked out our bedroom window while having coffee and saw three women walking toward our driveway. One had something that looked like a book. We looked at each other and said, “We’re not answering the door!” Ha, we who have with our team spontaneously knocked on over 55,000 new people’s front doors to welcome them into their new homes! Us!!
Later that day we were walking in Thornbury Park. As we walked past three people, we smiled and said hello to each person. No one responded. Then we saw a dear friend and stopped to chat. While we were doing so, one of the same people walked by us, and our friend put her hands up to her mouth and shouted, “Hello, Brenda!” very loudly. The woman turned around and smiled and waved. It was then I realized that they didn’t say hello to us because they had earbuds in.
All of this is to say that times have changed, and the loneliness factor doesn’t seem to help those who are lonely to create change. We have noticed on our visits that people are both lonely and withdrawn and yet still will probably remain closed down.
Let us each do all we can to embrace being real and in person in as many ways as possible. If you’ve read to the end of this (long article), I am looking for Welcome Neighbor Goodwill Volunteers who would be willing to accept a phone call from a newcomer who might want to hear a friendly voice tell them about their favorite events or places in the community. We would not publicize your phone number, but tell newbies to contact us for a goodwill ambassador. If you are one of those people, please email me, [email protected]. I would guess the number of calls per year would be somewhere between one and five. I wish I could say a higher number.
Subject Line: Let’s Get Personal. . .PLEASE
Dear Neighbor,
These are such strange impersonal times in so many ways, but here is a particularly strange impact of the sense of withdrawn-ness so many people feel but have seemingly lost the ability to go back to what made them happy—and I am referring to the simple pleasure of human interaction. It almost feels as if we crazy humans look in every possible (mis)direction to find satisfaction in our communications, and the latest is this: instead of actually engaging in conversation WITH someone, we try everything else: emails, texting, voicemails, and now: VOICE MEMOS!
This trending approach to so-called communication is detailed in an article below, but as I was stimulated to find out how much of a “thing” it is, I did a search, and I found many articles for and against it. Maybe it came from the increase in podcasts, many of which I find too rambling and space-filling. I tend to believe this would be the case with voice memos, too. Why? Because the missing ingredient is YOU! You don’t get to insert a comment, question or disagreement on any point. I happen to think it could be another version of what has come to be called on social media the “humble brag.” If you click on the link below and read this article, you can imagine someone being as a party (where you are not) and rambling on about who’s there, the food, drink, activities, host, and more. Here’s the link to the article:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2024/05/20/voice-memos-everywhere/
From the article, this quote:
“The voice note is this attempt to go back to calling, without actually calling,” Trub said. “There’s such a taboo around calling people; there’s such a fear of interrupting people’s lives.”
I told you these are strange times—a taboo?? I will admit it: I leave long voicemails for friends, and then I often text to say, “I just left you a voicemail.” I do this because some people never answer their phones or return a call, so I treat the voicemail as if I am speaking to them. My hope is that they’ll call back to respond. Sometimes it works; sometimes it doesn’t. I also have another method to connect: I send a text asking for a good time to talk, and then we use texts to “set an appointment” for the call, when we are both relaxed and able to enjoy a conversation.
A realtor who says voicemails are “. . .a looming thing in which someone wants something from you,” says this:
“Recording the [voice] messages feels joyful (sometimes because she’s had a few drinks, other times not) and there’s a thrill to speaking so long uninterrupted.”
That joyful declaration sounds a bit narcissistic to me. Maybe that’s what comes of being in such a vacuum. I hope she doesn’t call me when she’s drunk.
Recently we had a noteworthy day. In the morning, we looked out our bedroom window while having coffee and saw three women walking toward our driveway. One had something that looked like a book. We looked at each other and said, “We’re not answering the door!” Ha, we who have with our team spontaneously knocked on over 55,000 new people’s front doors to welcome them into their new homes! Us!!
Later that day we were walking in Thornbury Park. As we walked past three people, we smiled and said hello to each person. No one responded. Then we saw a dear friend and stopped to chat. While we were doing so, one of the same people walked by us, and our friend put her hands up to her mouth and shouted, “Hello, Brenda!” very loudly. The woman turned around and smiled and waved. It was then I realized that they didn’t say hello to us because they had earbuds in.
All of this is to say that times have changed, and the loneliness factor doesn’t seem to help those who are lonely to create change. We have noticed on our visits that people are both lonely and withdrawn and yet still will probably remain closed down.
Let us each do all we can to embrace being real and in person in as many ways as possible. If you’ve read to the end of this (long article), I am looking for Welcome Neighbor Goodwill Volunteers who would be willing to accept a phone call from a newcomer who might want to hear a friendly voice tell them about their favorite events or places in the community. We would not publicize your phone number, but tell newbies to contact us for a goodwill ambassador. If you are one of those people, please email me, [email protected]. I would guess the number of calls per year would be somewhere between one and five. I wish I could say a higher number.