To say it correctly, imagine you’re a six-foot, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound Norwegian shopkeeper named Oaken from the Disney movie Frozen. Now, in a high falsetto voice, exclaim: “Yoo-hoo! Big summer blowout!” If you’re having trouble picturing this, try imagining my daughters, Cati and Anya, at ages 3 and 5, riding in the shopping cart at Walmart, saying “Yoo-hoo! Big summer blowout!” to everyone we passed. I might have discouraged them from talking to strangers, but I was too busy joining in. (And for the record, I highly recommend this experience.) Go on, try it: “Yoo-hoo! Big summer blowout!” See how fun that is?! People of Walmart indeed!
As I look back on those days, I can’t help but smile. Strangers would often remark how friendly my girls were. Cati would exclaim joyfully, “They talked to me, Daddy!” And I would affirm, “Yes, they did! Isn’t it wonderful when people are so friendly?” Who wouldn’t smile when the world is smiling at you? We were all smiling, and that’s one of the effects my girls have on me. We smile all the time, and the world often smiles back. “I’m Anya, and this is my sister Cati,” Anya would say, followed quickly by, “We have a dog named Penny,” and then, “Yoo-hoo! Big summer blowout!” I would smile and keep the cart moving. I loved seeing my girls so happy and watching them experience the world around them.
As I reflect on these joyful moments, a thought nags at me… Should I have been worried? These were strangers, after all. Shouldn’t I have been teaching my girls not to talk to strangers? Was that the appropriate time and place to have this talk? After all, the safety and well-being of my children has always been my number one responsibility as a parent. Should I have told them not to say hello as we walked past? At the time, I remember coming home one day and diving into the DSM-IV to research the disinhibited form of Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD). This condition can cause children to be overly friendly with strangers due to early attachment issues. The relief I felt when a new criterion excluded my daughters was immense!
As I pondered these concerns, I couldn’t help but think back to my own childhood in Tucson, Arizona. After school, as early as the fourth grade, I would walk home alone and then hop on my bike and go just about anywhere within a 2 to 3-mile radius: the grocery store, my friend’s house, the dirt lot we converted into a bike track—all without a mobile phone or my mother knowing (exactly) where I was. I knew the neighborhood like the back of my hand, and I knew who my neighbors were. They knew me too. I also knew who strangers were and had the sense to stay away from them. My parents taught me well in that regard. But now, things feel different. What has happened that now I can’t tell you exactly who any of my neighbors are beyond vague descriptions? What happened that I wouldn’t let my girls out of my sight, definitely not in the same fashion as when I was younger?
Reflecting on this stark difference between my childhood and my daughters’, I can’t help but wonder what has changed in our society. Did my parents feel the same way when they reflected on their childhoods and compared them to that of their children? Have times really changed, or are the issues the same today as they have always been, just manifested differently? Is it the impact of new technology, the Internet, news, and media—raising our collective awareness—that has altered our understanding of risks and changed how we interact with neighbors and our community, even though the risks are the same? Platforms designed to connect us often keep us behind screens, substituting online interactions for real-world relationships. It seems as though the technologies marketed to bring us together have ultimately driven us apart, as our sense of community and connection is eroding. In striving to stay connected through screens, we’ve disconnected from the people right next to us. Something is dying in our culture, and we are all experiencing this loss.
What will happen when all our friends are virtual, and our worth is determined by the likes and approvals of people we’ve never met? What happens when we have more virtual friends than real ones? How many of us already do? How many of us take the time to get to know our neighbors? What will happen when we no longer talk at the dinner table because we’re too busy texting? What will happen when saying hello to someone at the store becomes an offense?
Now, my girls are 14 and 15. They still have that joyous spark and curiosity that characterized our trips down the aisles when they were little, but let’s face it—they wouldn’t be caught dead shouting out a line from a Disney movie anymore. I’m quite certain that if I said out loud in Walmart, “Yoo-hoo! Big summer blowout!” it would be like I didn’t have kids at all! Sometimes I long for the days when they were fearless and brave, and self-image wasn’t so significant in how they perceive their own self-worth. The world seems so much scarier now. Concerns like stranger danger and the very real threat of things like sex trafficking make us more cautious. While it’s important to remain vigilant about genuine dangers, we can find a balance that allows us to connect without compromising safety. But I can still be brave for them. I can set the example—I can talk to the people I meet, hold the door open, say please and thank you, ask people about themselves. Whether it’s striking up a conversation with a neighbor, attending community events, or simply offering a smile to someone passing by, these small gestures can make a big difference. I feel I owe it to my children to show them how to connect in a different way.
Our family unit, our community, is under attack, and it’s up to us to do something about it. We owe it to our children to help them turn the tide, teach them values, and show them how to live in a way that brings happiness. We owe it to them to show them how to make good choices for themselves—not based on fears, but on their own sense of self-worth.
“Yoo-hoo! Big summer blowout!” I am smiling again, thinking about the expressions on my daughters’ faces, imagining the humor of walking through Walmart, pushing the cart while they greeted everyone with a line from a Disney movie. Now I am laughing. Maybe that’s what it takes—just a bit of silliness and courage to connect again. Maybe I can get to know the person to my left or right, or down the street, or even the person walking past at Walmart. Maybe when they see how friendly we are, they’ll show us their human side in return, and our sense of community can grow.
It often happens when disaster strikes—a calamity like 9/11—and we all rally together and show the world what it means to be part of a community. But why wait for disaster to bring us together? Wouldn’t it be great if it could be like that all the time? If we saw each other as people, not just profiles? We are all connected in a larger community. And while I will continue to teach my children to be wary in situations that could put them in danger, I will not let my fears interfere with the joy my daughters get by saying hello to the people they meet and their interest in the world around them.
So look for us when you’re out and about, and if you see or hear us, please do say hello. And even if you don’t see or hear us, feel free to look to your left and right and say hello to your neighbors. You could also ask them if they’ve heard of the character named Oaken from the Disney movie Frozen. 🙂