Since When Is It A Social Gaffe to Speak?

I was recent­ly out and about with my son when we ran into three peo­ple I know. One of the indi­vid­u­als I only know in pass­ing. Another I knew years ago when they were a child. The third I know rea­son­ably well and see every week. I spoke to all of them, mak­ing pleas­ant chit chat (How was your hol­i­day, how is your fam­i­ly? etc.). When we got back into our vehi­cle, my son made a face, mut­ter­ing “Progressive Insurance” under his breath. This is his way of mock­ing me when I have behaved in a social­ly unac­cept­able way, mak­ing oth­ers feel uncomfortable. 

. . . silence (a true rar­i­ty when I am around).

. . . non­plussed expres­sion on my face (not even remote­ly rare).

I sat there in the car com­plete­ly con­fused. Had I vio­lat­ed some unspo­ken rule? Had I made a major soci­etal gaffe? Had I bro­ken the rules of engagement? 

I relayed this sce­nario to a friend a few days lat­er. Their response: “I have to side with your kid on this one. You real­ly don’t need to talk to peo­ple just because you know them.”

Is speak­ing to peo­ple you know tru­ly one of those social­ly unac­cept­able things? 

I talk to every­one. I talk to com­plete strangers. I talk to peo­ple I rec­og­nize in pass­ing. I promise, if I know you, I will speak to you. I sup­pose that if I real­ly don’t like you (which might be a grand total of three peo­ple on the entire plan­et), I might not speak to you. The fun­ny thing is that I would still acknowl­edge you. I would wave or give a head nod or some­thing. I would prob­a­bly even say hel­lo. It seems unnec­es­sar­i­ly cold and cru­el to not acknowl­edge others. 

When did we become a soci­ety that deval­ues human con­nec­tion? When did it become rude or weird or strange to speak to oth­er humans? Or am I crazy, and it has always been this way? 

I start­ed think­ing about The Andy Griffith Show. Now I real­ize that this show is a work of fic­tion. But I like to think that it was a rea­son­ably accu­rate depic­tion (if com­i­cal­ly enhanced) of life in a small town. Andy talks to every­one. Aunt Bea talks to every­one. Barney, Thelma Lou, Helen, Goober — they all talk to every­one. No one goes to the mar­ket and ignores the oth­er peo­ple there. No one pre­tends not to see a neigh­bor or col­league at the cor­ner of the street as they walk by. They all talk to one anoth­er. While the show may be noth­ing more than a source of enter­tain­ment, I like to think that we at least used to be a soci­ety that val­ued human inter­ac­tion. I even like to think that we still are. 

Admittedly, I have a wealth of evi­dence that I am wrong. I have neigh­bors who act like I have threat­ened them when I say hi in the gro­cery store. I have a friend with whom I have spent hours and hours of my time who doesn’t acknowl­edge me when I see them at the gym. I have fam­i­ly mem­bers who open­ly state that they have no clue who lives in the hous­es around them. Does this self-imposed iso­la­tion actu­al­ly make peo­ple hap­py? Would I be hap­pi­er if I embraced this way of life? 

Maybe. But I doubt it.

We are social ani­mals. We need oth­er peo­ple. We need fam­i­ly, friends, cowork­ers, acquain­tances. We need community. 

So, let me go ahead and apol­o­gize in advance. If I have known you all my life, if we work togeth­er, if you know my kids, if you know my par­ents, if our paths cross reg­u­lar­ly, if I have met you a few times, if I have seen you before and rec­og­nize your face, if you are an absolute stranger whom I have nev­er seen before and know absolute­ly noth­ing about, sorry. 

I am going to talk to you now.