Hello. My name is Marian.

Fourteen years ago, I grudgingly admitted that I wasn’t getting any younger. One morning I woke up to realize that I didn’t want to take care of my Newton house any more. 

I decided to sell. After years of dealing with normal, annoying aging-house problems, it was time to make my life easier. I didn’t want to deal with broken pipes and ice dams any longer. And my very nice Newton Highlands neighborhood was shifting from older to younger, meaning that there were fewer people who I knew well enough to stop for a chat.  

I wanted to stay in Newton because I had kids and grandkids here, and being close to them was important. In my search for a place to live, I discovered that there were limited local options. I had friends who had once lived at a big Chestnut Hill condo complex and they enthusiastically encouraged me to go there. I looked at a two-bedroom unit, figured I could make it work for me, and sold and bought residences, completing the two transactions within minutes of each other. I cleaned out epochs of stuff and moved.

What a relief! My goal of not having to worry about unpredictable repairs was achieved. A building staffer would be around to help with small things like replacing ceiling light bulbs and bigger things like a broken pipe from the floor above me that could drip water into my bathroom. All of my upkeep needs would be promptly and competently addressed.

Another reason for moving was to be in a place where there was some potential for having an everyday community, which had become hard to find in my previous stomping grounds. 

But when I relocated to my condo building, I didn’t know anyone. My floor, like all of the floors, looked like a hotel with a long hallway with doors on either side. It was silent, with rare sightings of people coming in and out. 

I was starting over and looking to establish a cadre of new acquaintances. How do I do that? Within a few weeks of my getting settled, I met someone on my floor and I said, “Hello, my name is Marian, I just moved in and I don’t know anyone.” 

She told me her name and said that she didn’t know anyone either. I met another floormate who said the same thing. The three of us talked and came up with an idea: Let’s have a floor gathering so we can all get to meet each other. 

We selected a date and location, home-crafted an invitation, and congregated for a pot-luck on the designated Sunday afternoon. Almost everyone on our floor came. Each of us had a few minutes to say who we were, where we came from, why we moved, and a little about our personal stories. There was a lot of diversity of food and history. Many of us were older, but some were younger. That first get-together set the stage for 14 years of friendly community building.

Since that start-up day, some neighbors have died or lost loved ones. Some have moved away, and some have had health or other problems. Still, that early tentative but purposeful initiative to build connectivity has lasted. We now know when one of us is in the midst of a difficult situation and we try to respond with kindness. Our habit has become to share baked goods, borrow eggs, or drop in to discuss good or bad news. For those of us with technical prowess, we trouble-shoot computer problems. We are discreet and respectful of floormates’ issues.

In the beginning, we gathered a few times a year with different units hosting. When COVID hit, just like everyone else, we stopped meeting as a group, but we still knew what each of us was going through. With a reduced COVID threat, we started congregating again in person. It’s been great to re-establish that togetherness. Longer-term residents and newcomers to our floor come from countries all over the world and bring varied cultural and religious backgrounds. These differences don’t matter. We share the basic qualities of simply being human. 

Almost daily, I read discussions in the news and listen to broadcasts about how both older and younger people feel lonely and isolated. Why this is happening is widely documented and debated. Yet we, with our small number, have found that it is pretty uncomplicated to create a sense of community. It’s nothing fancy. It’s as simple as talking to someone—not on social media but in person. 

As I get older, I find that the more I reach out, the more connected I feel. I have learned that each planned or even random encounter offers opportunity to make or strengthen a link. 

None of this requires much effort. With those we already know, a simple, “How are you doing?” gets the conversation going. With a new person, a simple “Hello, my name is… What’s your name?” is a perfect beginning. Nothing may happen after a new encounter, but I know from experience, that even the smallest interaction has the potential for adding fresh, powerful dimensions to living.

Marian Leah Knapp is a writer and book author who lives in Newton. She can be reached at knappml@comcast.net.