Community- Connecting Threads

“I really love used clothes,” I pointed to out to my friend as I showed off my new, hand-me-down sweater. “It makes you feel connected,” she said. A light went on. Yes, it was a connection! And what’s more personal than clothing? I continued thinking on this later. Was it the sentiment behind the gift of the sweater that was so special? Was it some actual juju, or DNA embedded in the fibers, that conveyed “connection vibes”? It didn’t really matter. I just wished I got hand-me-downs more often. (Most of my friends & family aren’t my size.)

The TV show "Northern Exposure" (of the early 90’s) had a great episode that relates to my sweater scenario. The story goes like this-

A native Alaskan Inuit wants to make the town doctor an honorary tribe member in thanks for medical care she received. The tribe members begin conducting initiation rituals, sometimes to the surprise of the doctor. One evening a man appears on the doctor’s doorstep and invites himself in. Instead of visiting with his host, he quietly paces the house, examining the living room and kitchen slowly and thoughtfully. The doctor impatiently asks for an explanation. Finally, the visitor makes a suggestive gesture; he unplugs the doctor’s coffee maker, picks it up and leaves the house with it, the baffled protests of the doctor following him out the door.

Days pass and there are more visits by tribe members who each help themselves to one of the “uninitiated’s” possessions. The doctor grows increasingly irritated. Just as he’s about to snap, a visit from the coffee-maker bandit turns the tide. The man has returned to the doctor’s house with his own coffee maker in hand- a gift in exchange for the doctor’s machine. Visits continue- throw blankets, clock radio, cooking utensils, houseplants. The house fills with used goods until each “stolen” article has been replaced with another. A community-building ritual has taken place. The tribe and the doctor have shared little pieces of themselves with one another.

The storyline makes me think about my first apartment. I remember the fun I had selecting a new comforter, a block of kitchen knives, some tapestries for the walls. The new things were markers on my passage into adult life. As I continue exploring that apartment in my mind, I start picturing “all the stuff I didn’t have to buy”. The Revere Ware from my mom, the kitchen table from my aunt & uncle, dish towels, lamps, and a set of mugs from my college times at a favorite restaurant. At the time I regretted that I couldn’t shop for and hand-pick every item of my new life. I felt “stuck” with some of the stuff - I always thought that Revere Cookware was ugly and that plaid dish towels belonged in the homes of geeks.

Today, if I imagine that apartment minus the hand-me-downs... those connecting threads between me and others and the past... it looks a hotel room with the personality of a slot in a parking lot. The hand-me-down, checkered dish towels were ritual objects. The bath towels were old friends. Even that damn Revere Ware that I always thought was so ugly became meaningful, its significance stretching beyond its utilitarian function. I still have a few pieces of it today (though I try to avoid using them, due to their enduring ugliness).

What are your most special connecting threads? Clothes, gifts, stories? One of my current “sharing” routines is splitting a meal with my friend when we meet at the pub or the coffee shop. (We eat whether we’re hungry or not.) If you don’t really have any sharing rituals, maybe you’d enjoy creating some. Maybe a friend would even swap toasters with you…