Voluntary Social Distancing
Although I have already lived 16 years in the South, I still try to understand the local social norms. I came to the States equipped with good English, but almost immediately I learned that I do not speak “American”, particularly “southern”. I could understand the words, but I could not read between the lines. The most challenging aspects to comprehend are social norms and cultural codes.
I remember when I first came to the Greensboro, NC, how I was impressed when people who I did not know, greeted me on my morning jog: “Hey, hi, how are you? Good morning”. This never happened to me in Israel (or in New York). Back in Israel, people do not greet each other in the street, unless they know them personally. The “how are you doing” greeting was accompanied with a friendly smile. I answered “I am very well and, how are you? breathlessly while I was jogging. The greeter looked surprised with my a “long” detailed answer, even confused, as if I caught them unguard by answered them. Few murmured faintly “I am well”, most did not respond at all. After few times I understood that the “how are you doing?” is a rhetoric question, nobody expects an answer. Still, the southern friendly greeting gave me a sense of belonging in my new country. It was very welcoming. I happily adopted the “stranger greeting” habit. During my visits to Israel, where I continued to keep to my daily morning jogging routine, I greeted people in the street “good morning” instinctively. They looked at me with questioning eyes. Their eyes said: “Do I know him?! Is he OK?! He is weird.!”
I have a completely different experience in the US when it comes to relationships with my neighbors. My encounter with my neighbor across the street is an example: last winter, two women in their forties with their two dogs, moved to an apartment in a building across the street from our house. Often, when I sit on our front porch, reading a book, I see them walking their dogs. I see them, they see me, but we never say hello. Sometimes when I take a walk in the neighborhood, I bump into them. We never greet each other. A few months ago, while I was walking with my wife and my daughter in the neighborhood, I saw them, standing on the sidewalk talking to another woman. When we came close to them, instinctively, I almost said hello. I sensed that they were hesitating. It felt like a long moment of hesitation. Should I say hello? Should I introduce myself? I looked at them, and nodded an uncommitted nod saying nothing: half hello, half I do not know you, and then we continued walking. I did not notice any response from them. Days after, I saw them a few times while I was sitting on our porch. We ignored each other. Several days later I saw them again in the street, walking toward me with their dogs. I decided that this time I would break the ice. As they got closer, I approached them and introduced myself, mentioning that I am their neighbor from across the street (in case they did not recognize me from 6 feet away). I could sense their surprise and discomfort. After a moment of uneasy silence, one of them introduced herself as Lisa. I engaged in small talk for a few short minutes. The other woman kept silent, as if she was paralyzed by anxiety. Before we departed, she finally introduced herself as Amanda. A week later, during our afternoon walk, I saw them getting in their Jeep. When we came closer, they had already started driving. As they passed us, Lisa waved hello and smiled; Amanda’s face was frozen. Since I have seen them very frequently when I am sitting on our porch, but most of the time we do not make eye contact.
In 2011 I moved to Norfolk for work. My wife and I commuted between Norfolk and Greensboro, NC, on weekends. I rented a townhouse in Ghent square. When I moved in, I knocked on my next-door neighbor’s door and introduced myself. For the first two years that I lived there I almost did not have any contact with any of the neighbors but one. I had a small back porch, where I frequently sat and read my books or ate my dinners. My porch faced the neighborhood parking lot that was 10 feet away. Neighbors came and went; surely, they saw me sitting on my elevated porch, but we never greeted each other, often looking down to the ground when they saw me sitting on my porch. They avoided eye contact as if they did not see me, as if we did not know each other at all.
I observe that people will often greet only total strangers, but very seldom their neighbors. I wonder why strangers greet each other in the street, but my neighbors, who I see almost daily, never say hello.
Back in Israel, we knew all our neighbors. The day we moved to a new house, a few neighbors knocked on our door, introduced themselves, and brought a homemade cake or dish. They stayed for a few minutes, chatting, sharing information, and advice about the neighborhood (Israelis are very good in “giving advice”, even if you do not need nor ask for it). Within a week, we knew most of the neighbors. Some of them have remained our lifelong friends.
Despite we lived in Greensboro in 2 suburban houses for almost 10 years, we did not know most of the neighbors including our next-door neighbor and the people who lived across the street from us.
I wonder about the dissonance between polite greetings to a stranger in the street and avoiding eye contact with your neighbor. Maybe the reason is me? perhaps my neighbors are afraid of a male who lives by himself? Or perhaps they fear an immigrant with a foreign accent?
I observed a similar social behavior when I visited my favorite Café Stella, my second home during my semi-bachelorhood period (until my wife moved to Norfolk). I went to Cafe Stella a few evenings a week, leaving my 4 walls, in a search the company of people, action, life. Many of Stella’s customers were regulars like me; I suppose they also came for social reasons. Most of the customers were working on their computers, usually sitting one person at a table. We never said hello to each other, although we, regulars, saw each other frequently. If a customer came and there was no open table, he would look around and wait till somebody left and a table became available. I never saw anybody asking to join a table occupied by a single person. Sometimes, when I saw a customer looking surreptitiously for a table, I approached him and offered him a place at my table. Usually, people were so surprised that they could not answer for a minute. Often, they thanked me and joined my table. We would share a table focusing “deeply” and silently on our computers silently, not sharing a word. For all four years that I visited Café Stella a few times a week, I have not talked to any of the other regulars besides the owner of Café Stella, an immigrant from Poland, and the waiters.
After living 2 years in my townhouse, without any interaction with my neighbors, I decided to break the ice and have my social-anthropological experiment. With my wife, I planned an afternoon block party one weekend when she would be in Norfolk. I printed invitation flyers and put them in my neighbors’ mailboxes with an RSVP request. To my surprise, I got many confirmations. The party was a big success. People brought ready-made snacks and wine, I made home-made Mediterranean dishes: Hummus, Tahini, Baba-ganush, Labane, and Cuscus. The neighbors introduced themselves and mentioned their house address (since not everybody knew who lived where). People stayed for three hours, talked, shared neighborhood and personal stories. I was very surprised to learn that many of them did not know each other personally even though some of them had lived in the neighborhood since it was built in the eighties. The neighbors loved the idea of the block party and enjoyed meeting each other. One neighbor wondered how come they had never thought of organizing a block party before. A few of them promised to organize a block party in the future, but they never did. The following summer, my wife and I organized a second and last block party in that neighborhood.
I realized that my theories about my social “isolation” were wrong. Many neighbors did not know each other despite the fact they had lived there for decades. I realized I was not exceptional, and It had nothing to do with me. I wonder if it is part of the social DNA of the society in my area. I believe that the reason for lack of social contacts among neighbors is the importance of privacy and personal space in our society. The importance of personal privacy is very different meanings between my Mediterranean background and the places I’ve lived in the US. I think people here worry that intimacy with neighbors can interfere with their privacy. When I shared my hypothesis with an American friend, she supported my theory and added: “What if you become too friendly with a neighbor and later you realize that this friendship crosses boundaries? It can be inconvenient to break a problematic relationship. It is a delicate matter that might create a confrontational situation and embarrassment”. I believe people try to avoid any probable uneasy social tension by keeping distance. There is no social risk in greeting a stranger in the street since it is a one-time noncommittal encounter. A closer relationship with a neighbor is one step closer to commitment. The safest way to prevent socially delicate or inconvenient tensions is to eliminate a relationship from the beginning: social distancing secures privacy.
Back in Israel, people do not care so much about their space and privacy, Values such as hospitality and community are more important over there. In Israel, one can never go with a baby cart in the street and avoid a remark from a middle age woman commenting how cute is your baby or even giving a young mother an advice to put on a hat on the baby’s head against the hot strong sun in the summer, or put on a coat for the baby in the chilly wintery day. In my neighborhood, in Norfolk the main social enablers are dogs. People here stop and comment about the dog’s beauty, ask about the breed, its age, and even about its hair loss. (I joked with my wife that we should consider buying a dog if I want to be more involved socially in the neighborhood). Though these encounters with strangers are an one time “safe” meeting.
In May 2015, my wife reunited with me and moved to Norfolk. To help my wife with the move, we considered joining the local Temple. One Friday evening we went for services to try the house of worship. We were approached by Jeanne, a member and volunteer of the temple engagement committee. Jeanne was my neighbor when I lived in my first townhouse. She participated in the block parties we organized but we never talked afterwards. As part of her role with the temple, she set a meeting with us, to persuade us to join the temple. That led to our becoming close friends.
Time passes; in March this year, Coronavirus brutally invaded our lives and changed our world. Social distancing emerged as part of the new rules of survival. After a month plus of self-isolation, my wife and I decided to see friends selectively, under very strict rules: meetings must be outside, in an open space, with masks on, keeping 6 feet distance. Naturally, Jeanne was one of the first friends we saw. I asked Jeanne, a widow who lives by herself, how she coped living alone in this time of Corona. Jeanne’s eyes opened wide with happiness. She told me that Corona made a big change in her social life and involvement in her neighborhood. One of her (and my old) neighbors initiated a daily happy hour in the common courtyard. Each neighbor brought a chair. They set the chairs 6 feet apart and met daily, brought food, wine, and snacks, and socialized for an hour or two. She discovered her neighbors after living there for over 30 years.
Walking in the neighborhood last summer and now in fall, I witnessed a big change in the public parks and green alleys in Ghent. For the first time small groups of people popped up on the parks’ lawns, like mushrooms after the rain: sitting on small folding chairs in groups of 2 to 10 people, a safe distance apart, enjoying each other’s company in the public domain. The neighborhood parks got a social revival!
What an irony I thought to myself: the coronavirus imposed social distancing on society. On the other hand, it brought us together and encouraged us to go beyond our voluntary social distancing.
