The Growing Up and the Growing Old

She had a strong German accent and was dressed from head to toe in a canary yellow tennis ensemble. Pete and I were standing in line at the local YMCA near our favorite vacation spot. For the last few years he and I try to get away for some quiet time to rest and recharge our batteries - McBean style. This means working out, paddle boarding, kayaking, foosball, walking, ping pong, etc. The 'etc.' also includes tennis, once we found a local Y that would give us guest privileges to use their courts. Hence, standing in line. Although the Y may be small and intimate, the red tape to get through the door and onto the courts is not.

As we shift from foot-to-foot, filling out forms and answering a multitude of questions, up comes the canary clad lady. The front desk clerk, a cheery woman who helps us get into the inner sanctum every year, acknowledges her presence with an apologetic nod to us - the knuckleheads causing the hold up.

"I can wait," she says as she sizes me up. "You know, we play doubles tennis here and we are always looking for....well, you know...new people." I really do think she was working hard to not say, 'fresh meat'. We remained silent and non-committal. She was just getting warmed up.

"You know," she leans in, "I'm of a certain age. My children think I cannot order at a restaurant for myself or make my own decisions." She shrugs. "My kids are in their sixties! You'd think they'd have more pressing matters to attend to. I'm too busy with my sports and other commitments to keep them apprised of my goings and comings!"

Sixties? Her kids are in their sixties?

"My own children seem to think we're old," I nod at Pete. "They're very concerned that we take good care of ourselves in the midst of a pandemic and whatnot."

"Well, that's only reasonable," she replies briskly. "But what I take offense at is feeling....smothered."

One lovely element of receiving stories includes the opportunity to find common ground. I, refusing to share a common enemy (because it is a cheap and tawdry substitute for true connection), particularly appreciate how often, almost inevitably, we humans can find meaningful connection. Today, we connect in this moment of shared knowing. I am the age of her children, but somehow, with careful listening comes a shared experience. I have children too. And no matter the actual age, the generational divide is there. Mother and daughter. Mother and son. The elder, the younger. The growing up and the growing old.

Beware of the Shared Enemy

What is the value of a "shared enemy"? It is a quick but fake way to build a sense of connection. A few years ago, before the world closed for the pandemic, Pete and I were given the lovely opportunity to go to a UVA football game in the middle of our vacation. Pastor's families do not get lots of opportunities to go to weekend sporting events, so this was a treat. It had been awhile since we had seen our alma mater play football and we were happy to drive up from our vacation rental for a game.

It rained. It poured. It was like a monsoon without rescue boats. Pete wanted to stand under the shelter but I figured we were already drenched, what good would that do? I wanted to sit among our people and root for the home team. It turns out, it is possible to get so wet under these conditions that you cannot even peel cash out of your wallet to buy a hot chocolate. Water pools in places that I cannot disclose on a blog. But it was a blast!

Our fellow Wahoos joined together and cheered and jeered and smiled and rolled our eyes at one another with great abandon - although we personally knew not one soul around us. We bonded over the insanity of sitting in a pool of water as the field began to look better suited for the swim team than football.

It was completely fake. It felt good, but it wasn't real. We do not really know any of those people. We shared a moment, not a life. And that's the problem with gaining connection by bonding with folks who think and feel and believe as we do. There is no "ironing sharpening iron" as the proverbs encourage. There is no conflict or opportunities to question ourselves. This is bad. Very very bad.

Try not to bond over a "shared enemy" if you can help it. Because it may unintentionally put people you love in the category of "enemy" and that, that right there? That would be a tragedy.