Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Communication and You

Researching my Edmonton-in-the-depression project, I was stunned by the lack of distance exhibited between people of the day, a closeness increasingly magnified by the hardened economic times. Beyond even the artificially-brightened fuzzy lens one often views the 'good ol' days' with, a certain sense of shared responsibility existed, an element largely excised, or at least deeply repressed, in our current system. Modern communication and global travel have almost completely destroyed this feeling, as many no longer feel paramount allegiance to any particular nation, location or culture. At the risk of sounding like an overly PC 'FAMILY AND COMMUNITY VALUES ARE DISINTEGRATING' atavist, we need that feeling, for at least a couple more generations. 'The Garneau Block' was an evocative example of this rally-around-each-other sentiment, though any observer can agree that it seems a far departure from the Edmonton standard. Forced anonymity of the crowd/neighbors becomes a shield, from behind which not many can truly empathize. Stories of starving people getting foodstuffs from neighbors, not underfunded centralized foodbanks, were a revealing statement on society, about how person-to-person familiarity breeds social stability, or at the very least, weaves a safety net we can all fall back on. So, in essence, talk to that person beside you on the bus, or in the next apartment. You never know if he'll be the one with all the potatoes next depression.

4 comments:

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  2. Crap! The stupid server timed out, and now I have to type my comment AGAIN. Okay, so as I was saying...

    Although Edmonton may only be lukewarm at times, there's a lot more to be said about people here than in other countries. I remember in England, people on the bus wouldn't even look at you, and would instead master the fine art of the 100-yard stare. In Edmonton, I have random chats with the Mac's guy (his name is Aman, he's pretty cool), or with someone on the LRT, or whatever! If you tried to do something like that in other places, they'd likely look at you like you've escaped from somewhere, and move to another seat.
    In England, I kept waiting for someone to smile to me, or even have a cashier wishing me a nice day. John didn't get my frustration at the chilly reception, and kept saying,
    "what difference does it make? You still get your Oh Henry and pack of fags, why do they need to give you some phony-bologna well wishings?!" But, for me, it's those little things that make me feel like I'm a human, making actual human connections. Brits in general seem pretty cold, you know no one's sharing their potatoes over there!

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  3. This makes me think of a few things.
    First, it reminds me of the discussion we had about "disaster" a few weeks ago. Our group was talking about how hardly anybody grows their own gardens anymore, and if they do, the "young people" aren't learning. There might be any potatoes to share if something big happens.

    Secondly, it makes me think about my relationship with my own neighbours. We moved in this past September, and it just seemed natural to me to share the muffins/cookies/cake I make with them...maybe it's the small-town girl in me. I like the feeling I get by making that connection with them, and they certainly appreciate it.

    Thirdly, it makes me think about how kids today are missing out on so much face-to-face communication because of technology like cell phones and facebook. I wonder how they'll react if something like the depression or a disaster happens.

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  4. I think it's all part of the on-going trend in society: humans are becoming dehumanized in the name of efficiency, entertainment, and business. It seems that in just a few years, we'll all be individual bubbles,and as opposed to language and expression, we're connected only through wires and electronics. We'll be like those crazy industrialized utilitarians from 19th century England: bleak and robotic.

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