In Flannery O’Conner’s short story, Revelation,
the doctor's waiting room is the setting for
the interactions between a cross section of early 1960s white Southern society.
The story is full of symbolism and representative diseases of the body, the
mind, and the spirit. What is so
interesting is the verbal exchanges and non-verbal judgements and “sizing up”
of the situation, especially by the main character, Ruby Turpin. One has to
read the story to get the flavor of the subtle undercurrent as well as overt resentments,
self-righteousness and racism expressed in the dialogue. It is fascinating!
Having
just spent the better part of a day in a medical facility waiting room, I noted
little interaction and conversation between the many patients in the over-crowded
room. But I did find myself “sizing up
the situation” and wondering what the stories were of some of the individuals,
- yes, I must admit making undue judgements of some of them.
I
have been in enough waiting rooms in the last several years to know that people
just keep to themselves, not even conversing much with a person who may have
accompanied them. Mostly people in such
public spaces are focused on their digital rectangle – I saw none who had
brought a book or other reading material. But signs of pain, discomfort and frustration
are soon apparent in random comments and pacing behavior. After several hours impatience is my primary
emotion.
I
am reticent to engage others in even superficial conversation in such settings,
perhaps out of fear of intruding on their privacy. I only noted one good example of empathy from
a young woman who several times went to an older lady sitting in a wheelchair,
apparently in pain, and the lady did appreciate it.
In
an August 25th article in the New York Times, David Brooks examines why people
in America are so insular and under-socialized. Maybe even lonely and not
interacting with other people because of false assumptions. He references a social scientist, Nicholas
Epley:
“One
day Nicholas Epley was commuting by train to his office at the University of
Chicago. As a behavioral scientist he’s well aware that social connection makes
us happier, healthier and more successful and generally contributes to the
sweetness of life. Yet he looked around his train car and realized: Nobody is
talking to anyone! It was just headphones and newspapers.
Questions
popped into his head: What the hell are we all doing here? Why don’t people do
the thing that makes them happy?”
He
discovered that one of the reasons people are reluctant to talk to strangers on
a train or plane is they don’t think it will be enjoyable. They believe it will
be awkward, dull and tiring. In survey only 7 percent of people said they
would talk to a stranger in a waiting room. Only 24 percent said they would
talk to a stranger on a train. But the research does show that of the people
who initiate conversation, the majority feel good about it.
Being
in a waiting room tests my patience. I
resist the impulse to think of the time spent as “wasted” given my age when each day is supposed to be savored because I don't have that many left to waste. So, I reflect on recent experiences and being
aware of my feelings about the kinds of conversations and interactions that
give me a good feeling. For example, the
fellowship hour after worship services at our church is a mixed bag. As an introvert I tend to like quiet encounters and wonder if I am “interesting enough” so as to not waste someone’s time
talking to me. But getting to know one
another is an important part of building community.
I really
should be more attentive to listening to and engaging with others who may want
to go a bit deeper or have a story they want to tell– perhaps a false hope – but that most often starts with a simple and mundane question like “How’s it going?” And then listening.
it pained me to recently read that flannery was quite a bigot. but why would that have surprised me? i guess i thought she appreciated humanity more. the way she writes so viscerally about folks.
ReplyDeleteyes. the conversations and silence we enter or hold onto are observable.
i try hard to be a good conversation partaker. I am no good. sometimes i am. with certain people in certain places. my hearing is poor. sometimes i can not bare to say, what? huh? i didnt catch that? and i just nod and agree.
i like to believe that i am good at letting silence participate in the talk as well. although i can get carried away, i do like pauses and reflection. especially when someone shares something weighty. i suppose in those instances i may be pretty good at the exchange. i do not come back with advice too often. i want to feel their pain and try hard to empathize.
i may say wow. geez. i may sigh. i may slowly nod. waiting for the sharer to share more. or waiting for words to come to me. i dont pretend to have them available right away.
i think of my parents and especially my dad when i meet new people, or when i encounter the crossroads to establish a deeper connection, to further a relationship. i think of my own neighbors and how poor i really am at being a good neighbor. there are exceptions of course.
but i am not the best listener. i say something and i listen back and maybe say something else and i think, why did i even choose those words.
i forget the past and do not rightly prepare for the future. but i try hard to appreciate the present. and like dad says about not resenting the "waste" of time that waiting in rooms evokes, uffda, we all look down mindlessly at our digital rectangles.