Forty years ago, 7 couples in Basking Ridge, New Jersey, decided to start a book group. The first book we chose was 1984 by George Orwell, because it happened to be the year we began. The group is still meeting. Aging, but still reading and discussing.
We met once a month for 34 years until deaths and relocations caused a pause. At the end of each meeting, the couple designated to host the next group would pick the next book. We missed very few months over those 34 years. Do the math – that’s almost 400 books. More importantly, that’s almost 400 meaningful conversations.
Due to the diversity of the group, the book selections represented a wide range of literature. There were a few busts but, for the most part, each book presented challenging ideas that enabled the group to engage civilly in dialogue and discourse. There were conflicts. There were tears. There were surprising revelations. All led to a deeper bonding and appreciation for differences.
There are still four couples who continue to meet by Zoom on a bi-monthly basis. Most of us are octogenarians, with my wife being the youngest of the group – she is a mere 76. We may not be as spry as we used to be, but the discussions are still lively and full of life. The line-up of recent books on the list reflect the diverse interests of the group:
- How to Say Babylon, by Safia Sinclair, a Jamaican poet and memoirist
- An Immense World, Ed Yong, a Pulitzer prize winning British biologist born in Malaysia
- The Wager, by David Grann, the author of Killers of the Flower Moon
- An Unfinished Love Story, Doris Kearns Goodwin, an American biographer and historian
- Demons of Unrest, by Eric Larson, an American journalist and author of the Devil in the White City.
I share this story not only to celebrate our longevity as individuals and as a group, but also because the group represents what is possible for healthy aging and for building healthy communities. Since I have written a previous post on Aging, I won’t repeat myself in this one – although as I get older, I often worry about how often I do repeat myself. Instead, I will focus on what the group has taught me about building healthy communities and how those lessons might apply to larger issues.
Serendipitously, after I started writing this post, Tom Friedman, my favorite and most trusted NYT columnist, wrote an article on the challenges of creating a civil society in this polarized, isolating, and alienated world. Friedman introduced the article with his observation that the Trump trial has revealed what went array in America. He then used a beautiful mangrove metaphor to illustrate his point. Essentially, mangroves are able to filter toxins through their extensive roots, create trusted nurseries for the young to safely mature, and provide buffers against great waves. Whew! Do we ever need mangroves at this point in our history. More later.
Sadly, just as the mangroves are rapidly eroding due to climate change, so also are social norms being eroded by tsunamis of toxicity. The question Friedman raised for me in his article is: how can we create mangrove ecosystems to protect our cherished norms from the toxic effects of shameless selfishness?
Book groups may not be the magic elixir, but they are one terrific way to grow strong roots in a deteriorating eco-system. Climate change may pose threats to our physical well-being, but the culture changes we are experiencing threaten our intellectual, emotional, and spiritual well-being. Clearly, protecting the environment and being more conscious of the food we eat has a profound impact on our health. The ideas we consume, however, may even have a more toxic – or uplifting – impact. Both climate change and cultural change pose threats to the ideals of a society we once envisioned. We are not only suffering from soil erosion, but also from norm erosion.
Book groups won’t help us change policies or political corruption, but they can serve as one way to create norms of our own choosing in small communities. In our book group, we have established rules around listening closely to each other and respecting different points of view. We can engage in healthy conflict because, after so many years, we have learned to trust that differences don’t need to erode the trust we have built. We know each member of the group has good intentions and that challenges come from good places. In short, we trust each other’s hearts.
I have grown to love this book group and the people in it because it is a source of meaningful conversation that never seems to run dry. In the early years of the group, the men dominated the discussion. Now the conversations are much more balanced because 1) the culture has changed, 2) the biggest patriarchs left the group for one reason or another, and 3) the women definitely found their voices, particularly my lovely partner.
Most importantly, the book group provides a nurturing space for reading and talking. It seems to me there is less reading and more tweeting these days which doesn’t exactly lead to stimulating and substantive discourse. As Paul Simon wrote in one stanza of Sounds of Silence:
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never shared – no one dared
Yes, there is a lot of talking, but not as much truth speaking as we need. People are hearing the noise, but not listening to whatever music is behind it. People are afraid to share their “songs” for fear of being cancelled, trolled, or assaulted. To me, book groups encourage us to speak. They require us to listen. And they welcome us to share ideas with no fear of retribution.
So, what can we do to restore our soil AND our communities—to create mangrove ecosystems that filter toxins, develop deep roots, create safe spaces, and provide buffers against the extreme waves in our environment? In addition to book groups, I will briefly suggest three possibilities: family time, community gardens, and not-for-profit work.
To me, there is nothing more healing than spending time with my family. Even though we have one daughter and two grand-kids on the West Coast and one daughter on the East Coast, we still find ways to remain connected. I treasure the nourishing times we have together. Connectedness is the primary pillar of healthy communities.
We have also found the community garden, in which we participate, to be a great source of harmony and healing. Over 20 citizens from a variety of political and religious orientations meet a couple of times per week at Maple Bay garden to plant, weed, and harvest fresh organic vegetables that we donate to Food Rescue so that people in need have access to healthy food. It is a collective effort that leverages the individual skills of the whole group. This year, our goal is to produce over 10,000 pounds. We may not grow any edible mangroves, but we have clearly created a mangrove ecosystem. It’s beautiful to see how art, science and people with different beliefs can come together to create productive results. What’s really thrilling is to work collaboratively with people who are inspired by art and grounded (literally) in science. Need I say more? Collaboration is another key pillar of healthy communities.
Finally, we have found that volunteering to work with not-for-profit organizations has nourished our souls. My wife taught special education in a public school for 38 years, so she knows about mangrove ecosystems. I spent most of my career working for corporations that existed primarily to generate profits and enrich management. To be fair, several of the corporations made genuine attempts to create healthy work environments. While not all of them were greed-infested swamps, I clearly wouldn’t describe them as mangrove ecosystems. Contribution to the larger good is still another critical pillar of healthy communities.
In summary, family time, book groups, community gardens, and not-for-profit organizations all help us navigate the daily challenges we face in the world. You may have other sources that grow your sense of community. I would love to hear what they are.
So how do we keep from being swept away by this toxic wave of authoritarianism that is heading insidiously toward our shores? First, we need to defeat the hate-filled MAGA wave that Trump is riding. May it crash into the rocks without destroying the mangroves. Second, we need to find creative ways to build healthy communities, to engage in meaningful conversation, to nurture deep connections, to work collaboratively, and to contribute whatever we can to the common good.
I’m hoping that all of us find multiple sources of sustenance that keep us breathing instead of drowning. I’m hoping that more people will join book groups, participate in community gardens, work with not-for-profit organizations and find innovative ways to build mangrove ecosystems that enrich our lives. May it be so.
Also published on Medium.
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Lovely missive my friend! Thank you!