I grew up in a very small community. It was the kind of place where you knew almost everyone, or if you didn’t know them, you knew someone who did. And since my Dad was the local volunteer fire chief, almost everyone knew him and, by association, me.
I’ll admit that it drove me crazy at times. There was a point when I wanted to be me, not someone’s daughter, sister, or niece. And I wanted to go somewhere and not have someone say ‘are you an (insert last name)?’ And, yes, that happened a lot when I was a kid!
But most of the time, I loved the smallness. It was safe, quiet, and insulated in my tiny rural township. I had a handful of local kids to play with and plenty of room to run.
My grandparents lived in a town not far away. It was still a very small place, but it felt much larger and more exciting. On the Friday nights that I slept over, I would fall asleep to a symphony of church bells. And Saturday mornings in town meant a walk to the bakery (just over a block away) for freshly baked Persian rolls and, if I was lucky, to the second-hand bookstore.
But even though it felt bigger, it was still a very small town. My grandmother was known for her homemade filled cabbage (halupki) and even though you might not know everyone, it was never hard to find a connection.
Community is about looking out for your neighbors and helping them out. I feel fortunate to have grown up with that sense of belonging.
But my idea of community has changed over the years. Community isn’t restricted to taking care of your physical neighbors. Community can be a group of people who have never met (and may never meet) in person who support each other in online forums. My writing community has included readers and writers from around the world, drawn together by a common interest.
I was lucky to find a community like that when I began writing. We shared our stories, we encouraged each other, collaborated with each other, mentored each other. It didn’t matter that we were halfway around the world, in different hemispheres and different time zones. What mattered was the connection.
The power of the Internet has changed how we interact with each other, and not always for the best. But it can foster the creation of new and different communities.
I do know one thing for certain. Lizzie Kincaid and her friends are from a small, close-knit village like mine, but they wouldn’t exist without the very different internet community that nurtured me and, in turn, them.
It’s all about the connections that we form and how we choose to interact with them. Yes, there are differences, but community is as much the dear friend who is halfway around the world as it is the second cousin once removed up the road.
From what I’ve learned, we need them both.
I’ll admit that it drove me crazy at times. There was a point when I wanted to be me, not someone’s daughter, sister, or niece. And I wanted to go somewhere and not have someone say ‘are you an (insert last name)?’ And, yes, that happened a lot when I was a kid!
But most of the time, I loved the smallness. It was safe, quiet, and insulated in my tiny rural township. I had a handful of local kids to play with and plenty of room to run.
My grandparents lived in a town not far away. It was still a very small place, but it felt much larger and more exciting. On the Friday nights that I slept over, I would fall asleep to a symphony of church bells. And Saturday mornings in town meant a walk to the bakery (just over a block away) for freshly baked Persian rolls and, if I was lucky, to the second-hand bookstore.
But even though it felt bigger, it was still a very small town. My grandmother was known for her homemade filled cabbage (halupki) and even though you might not know everyone, it was never hard to find a connection.
Community is about looking out for your neighbors and helping them out. I feel fortunate to have grown up with that sense of belonging.
But my idea of community has changed over the years. Community isn’t restricted to taking care of your physical neighbors. Community can be a group of people who have never met (and may never meet) in person who support each other in online forums. My writing community has included readers and writers from around the world, drawn together by a common interest.
I was lucky to find a community like that when I began writing. We shared our stories, we encouraged each other, collaborated with each other, mentored each other. It didn’t matter that we were halfway around the world, in different hemispheres and different time zones. What mattered was the connection.
The power of the Internet has changed how we interact with each other, and not always for the best. But it can foster the creation of new and different communities.
I do know one thing for certain. Lizzie Kincaid and her friends are from a small, close-knit village like mine, but they wouldn’t exist without the very different internet community that nurtured me and, in turn, them.
It’s all about the connections that we form and how we choose to interact with them. Yes, there are differences, but community is as much the dear friend who is halfway around the world as it is the second cousin once removed up the road.
From what I’ve learned, we need them both.
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