The surgeon general declared that the US suffers from an epidemic of loneliness. Our society's emphasis on self-sufficiency and rugged individualism certainly place us at risk for alienation.
A growing body of literature has emerged suggesting that the connections that determine whether an individual feels isolated or enmeshed with their community comes not only from the deep social contacts, but from the more superficial but reliable social interactions they experience during a typical week.
Making smalltalk with the grocery bagger at the supermarket, saluting the postal service worker or asking the bank teller how her grandkids are doing can make you feel woven into the fabric of society.
I experience this phenomenon most weeks on my early morning bike rides. On those weekdays when my son has an early class, I drop him off and then jump on my road bike to try to squeeze in a ride before the morning commute begins in earnest.
At a stop sign intersection near a local elementary school, I see a line of cars and catch a glimpse of a familiar shock of white hair near the front.
Mr Z. wears his hair frizzy, as if he shared a hairdresser with Einstein. He dons a reflective vest and keeps late parents from speeding by with a simple but brilliant tactic: he compliments an occupant of each car that passes his intersection.
When I ride up to him in the morning, he extends a fist bump, addresses me as "young man" (I'll turn 52 in 6 weeks, so it's a joy to hear him call me this), and tells me how happy it makes him to see me on this fine morning.
If the cars are lined up at the stop sign, I overhear him as he leans into the passenger window of the minivan (and they are all SUVs or minivans) to tell the third grade occupant, "You're beautiful! Have a terrific day at school!"
There's something about starting your day with a kind word or a compliment from an avuncular man you know very little about that sets your trajectory for the day - it's bound to be a good day if you start it by interacting with Mr. Z.