Nodes unknown

Disturbing news of Americans' feelings of social isolation came out last week (link). Seems nearly one of every four Americans has no close contacts, no one outside of family, with whom to talk. Hearing that saddened me but did not surprise me.

For as long as I could remember, I've been fascinated by the idea that every face that we pass on the street, every seemingly nameless individual who registers only as an obstacle on the sidewalk, carries with him or her a story, in fact a whole history. Within that story is all the richness of the human experience, from birth to death and all the mess and tears and laughter and sex and sickness and close shaves and candy and fingernail clippings that come in between.

What saddens me is that we as twenty-first century Americans are unable to act as conduits to hear and pass along these stories from each other. We would rather pick through the scraps of so-called celebrities than glean the richness of our neighbors.