Tethers

Over the course of our lives we make connections with others. In the process of making these connections, when I meet a person I like or someone with whom I discover an affinity, I tie an invisible string to them and attach the other end to myself. Sometimes that string is thin and easily broken. At other times the string becomes stronger as we grow closer, tethering us to that person for many years. These tethers are usually constructed out of friendship, kinship, and love, but they can remain fragile, as I have discovered many times over my life. Many tethers also remain long after one person has died, for death only blunts the connection, it doesn’t remove it.

Tethers can be attached to objects as well, for we can imbue a gift, a piece of art, an old greeting card, or just about any tangible artifact with a person or time that touched us in ways that are difficult to describe. Sitting on the table in front of me is a vase my parents had in their Berkeley art gallery in the 1960s. I can hold this vase in my hand and using the tether that attaches me to this object, I become transported to that space from so many years ago. But tethers to objects are for a future post. Today is about connections to people.

For years I was fortunate enough to have had an amazing friendship with an artist by the name of Thekla. Her studio was next door to my carousel restoration shop in an old warehouse in Oakland, CA. This was both good and bad, for she and I could spend hours discussing life, our perspectives, and our work, but this did not lead to a productive day other than finding grand fulfillment in our conversations.

In 1989 I uprooted myself and moved to New York City though I would return to the Bay Area on a regular basis. On my trips back to California, I would often stop by her studio, which was now a part of her home in West Berkeley. Sometimes I would let her know ahead of time and sometimes I would just drop by. No matter the forewarning I was always greeted with extraordinary warmth, offered a cup of tea and a chair. Our conversations had an amazing continuity, as if we had spoken the evening before and we just picked up where we left off.

As time passed, my returns became less frequent, but even with years in between visits, the familiarity never waned. Then came the announcement that she had a rather rare form of lung cancer. Despite her fierce determination to battle the disease it eventually ended her life. But I had the benefit of a few visits during her fight. Even with the side effects of treatment, she still painted as often as she could and when I would visit, nothing ever changed. This was and still is a very strong tether.

There are times I feel very isolated, losing track of my connections to others. But when I stop and think about my life, I realize that I’m incredibly fortunate. That despite the tethers that have been painfully severed for unknown reasons by former friends, I remain connected to many incredible people in ways that I could hardly have imagined. My family is one where we talk on a regular basis. I know of other people who have lost complete touch with siblings or nieces and nephews which I find quite sad. There are also old friends from forty or fifty years ago who will, on occasion, call or send an email asking if we can catch up. How wonderful is that!

Research suggests that we humans have a limited capacity for important relationships in our lives, that beyond 150 (plus or minus), connections significantly lessen in strength and are then relegated to acquaintance status. The British anthropologist, Robin Dunbar, developed his Dunbar’s Number through extensive research. Although somewhat controversial, the number has had an impact on industry with regard to workplace relationships, plus it makes sense to me based on the number of people I have as “friends” on Facebook. Although there are a few people I know on social media who have 5,000 “friends” but that hardly seems possible.

I find there is a physical quality to my important tethers, even if I cannot see them, I feel them. They are a part of who I am, and they keep me grounded. At times I can fret over them and worry that perhaps the tether has frayed, and so I call or send a message asking if everything is okay. But I am a self-admitted worrier. Not a particularly healthy trait, but as with so many of the quirks most of us have, they are ingrained in our personalities.

A recent article in The Atlantic Monthly detailed the growing trend towards isolation, especially among young men. Many of them work from home, go to the gym, grab take out from a local eatery, and then go home to fixate on their computers either for gaming or for social media. What tethers they have are digital and fragile and it’s impacting their mental health. Since we humans are social animals, dependent upon each other for conversation, feedback, laughter, and compassion, physical interaction is critical, yet we are quickly moving away from this extraordinarily important part of life.

I believe I’m fortunate to have grown up in the non-digital era where more relationships were built in person. Perhaps in the future there will be swing of the pendulum and people in general will rediscover the joys of forming strong tethers to each other, where the physical touch of another human being is celebrated and nurtured. Anyway, that’s my hope.

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