“Me first!”

“My woofers are bigger than yours.”

“My taste in music is superior.”

I put my blinker on to change lanes and the car, more than a quarter mile behind, speeds up to prevent my doing so. Or I stop at a light and sense a heavy pulse ratcheting up my spine and shaking my cheek bones. Then the bass beat becomes unbearably loud. What gives?

I’m sorry to have to ask but, where have we gone wrong? When did it become publicly acceptable to force our choice of noise onto everyone else, whenever we feel like it? Even if they don’t choose it? Kent and I experienced this at an extreme level this weekend in a campground at the bay.

The place was packed, understandable since it’s now summer. We parked and got our dog out to walk around. Golf carts overloaded with teens raced by—speakers blaring their favorite raucous rap music. Around a corner I yanked Zelda out of the way of two young boys on E-bikes, careening out of control. Even they had loud music blasting from their handlebars. Not many regular bikes here that one actually has to pedal to move forward. Just lots of E-bikes, E-skateboards, E-scooters, E-Segways… each commanding its own trajectory and choice of ear-splitting noise to accompany them. Often, we couldn’t even hear our own conversation. By early evening it was deafening. The competing, amplified onslaught from campsites and people-moving machines produced a space of utter chaos.

Late that night, when the subtle bell tolled the beginning of quiet time, the incessant noise continued into the wee hours. One might wonder why the staff didn’t do anything about it. But as a teacher, and volunteer ranger, I know that you can’t really do much these days. It seems that everyone has to suffer now.

We left first thing this morning. Zelda, like us, was stressed. She hadn’t relieved herself in close to twenty-four hours and I was afraid we’d need to visit the veterinarian. However, once back at home she took care of business immediately. Whew.

Ahh, the peace and quiet of home sweet home. I could hear the birds singing in the canopy of oak trees as the breeze rustled the nearby leaves. Amazingly, nothing needed immediate attention (we usually have to hit the ground running) so we were able to unpack in a leisurely fashion. Even the best trips make us appreciate home once we’re back. Sometimes after just one night.

Then there’s the flip side to all the unconscious invasion of peace—like when adult children sever ties with their parents, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles… There are situations in which this is, no doubt, justified. But you hear of it happening more and more, seemingly for rather shallow reasons. This is definitely a thing now. Often, evidently, millennials are being counseled to break family bonds. There is always work involved for any relationship to continue. The issue I see with the increase in this trend might point to a lack of muster: When the going gets tough… Not so much. Now that I think about it, it’s not the flip side of the aforementioned selfishness, but more of the same.

I believe that perhaps we’ve become obsessed with “boundaries” at the cost of working together. And our divided society, for the most part, encourages this. The term toxicity is being thrown around like never before—all in the name of instilling the perceived need for barriers instead of building bridges. How can we always think that it’s someone else’s fault? It’s quite a sad state of affairs.

Wouldn’t the world, as well as our families and communities, be a better place if we focused more on inclusivity? What about that neighbor who pitches in without hesitation? Or the grandmother who volunteers her time to watch the grandkids, bring meals, run errands…? How about doing something nice to show appreciation instead of a barely audible, “Thank you?”  

  On a semi-regular basis I try to reach out to those who might like some company. It also feeds my soul. Sometimes we may question why we’re not the ones who are getting reached out to as often. But we each have our own life story to deal with and I’m not here to judge. I’m just thrilled when it does happen for me, however, one can never count on it. Besides, we’re much better off with regular connections regardless of who initiated what.

There have been studies done which prove that longevity is directly related to our regular social engagement. It outperforms healthy eating, solo mental gymnastics, and physical exercise. Think of our chances of living longer, and better, if we combine all of them—along with lots of laughter, of course.

So let’s get together – yeah, yeah, yeah!

Chi Varnado has published six books including fiction, nonfiction and children’s books. They are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.

She is available to adults and children for fun tutoring in writing.