on being social

Most times when the door opens to apartment number 8, there is someone other than a family member laying on the couch or crouched in the corner on the floor with a tiny mug of coffee. There is usually also a platter of salted popcorn or hard cookies for the taking in the dimly lit room.

Once when we pulled up, a very small man wrapped in layers of clothing and black peeling shower sandals with socks was walking down the sidewalk. We said hello as I got Anna out of her seat, and began walking in the direction of Abel's apartment.  I didn't even realize he was following us until the door opened and he came in right along with us, saying nothing to anyone there, finding a place on the brown chair, eyes twinkling.

Of all the many things I've learned and loved working with so many different refugee families from very different situations, the way to be social must be my favorite. It may come from the years spent in camps, or the shared struggles between them, but whatever the reason, they simply like to be with each other, and do it daily. No need for any planned activity, family relation, holiday. They just come. And sit, and sometimes talk or bring their children or some orange juice.

I have known from a pretty young age that I wasn't really as good at people as my sister, the only one that mattered to me for a long time as any sort of standard. She was (and is) just so good at it. She loves it. And people love her.  Not that I didn't like people. I loved nothing more than to read about them, watch them, and be with my favorite friends. But strangers? And people I only sort of knew, talking about things I didn't think were really very important? Not my thing.

This week has been another opportunity for me to look at my social-ness (or lack thereof). With the viewing, the visiting family and friends, the funeral, there have been many conversations and reunions and people, and I found myself feeling these same childhood feelings. Watching my sister so genuinely happy and good at every one of those conversations, and myself wanting to go stand next to grandma in her casket, possibly invisible, just watching and listening to all these wonderful people talking to each other.

But something, many things really, at the funeral inspired me. My uncle talked about how my grandma truly sought to be well rounded-- to develop in herself skills and talents, even ones that didn't come naturally. It made me think of my Dad, also not a naturally gregarious fellow, who has become very good at conversations and outgoingness over the years,  due in part I think to church assisted/forced practice as well as personal intention.

There's times and groups of people with whom I feel very naturally a leader, very eager to talk or engage in conversation. Or put me in front of a classroom of kids and I can be completely calm and silly and in control. Put me in a grocery store, running into old neighbors who for some reason want to talk forever, or at a party, talking to sort-of-aquaintences, not so. And it's generally not that I'm scared.  It's just that I don't like it.  I do want to improve myself however, and realize I need to look at it less as a personality trait, my aversion to small talk, and more as a skill or talent thus far under-developed. So look out world! Super social Brinn, coming you way. Or at least one happy to talk to you at all times and in all things and in all places.