Do we realize how isolated we are?

I attended National Night Out on Aug. 1. It was great!
At this annual event, my block gathers a couple dozen people for a mix of burgers, brats, and salads. The adults catch up on each other’s summer travels and home renovations while the children play with each other’s toys. I enjoyed every minute of it.
I am also mindful of how a few hours of mingling once a year is only a taste of what’s possible. Sometimes we barely make it past, “Can you remind me what you do for a living?”. There was a particularly poignant moment for me when one of my neighbors was like, “Eddie! I haven’t seen you for months! Where have you been?” I pointed to my house and said, “In there,” and then I pointed to his house three doors down and said, “ – and you’ve been in there.” Then everyone laughed and the conversation moved on.
I was being facetious, but I was also signifying how silly our isolated lifestyles appear to me. About 10 years ago, my wife and I lived in a neighborhood on the northern edge of Chicago. Many of our neighbors there were recent immigrants from Nepal and Malaysia. “Neighbor” meant something different to the people living there.
Neighbors passed casually between each other’s homes every day. You could find small groups chatting on sidewalks, in front of doors, and in living rooms at least a few times per week. Almost everyone watched each other’s kids, made extra dinner to share and had a lot of fun together. In tougher times, there was a little more practical help and a lot of moral support at every turn. While my wife and I lived there, we set aside our “American” instincts and basked in that community. It felt like a better way to live.
When we moved to Minnesota six years ago, we were both returning to cultures and communities that we had grown up in but we expected to create a version of interconnectedness wherever we landed in Minneapolis. The cultural differences have proven to be too great to overcome. We tried varied approaches of inviting more closeness, always erring on the side of taking it slow rather than annoying people, and we haven’t “given up” yet. However, most people we’ve met in Minnesota have been content with little more than a seasonal five minute conversation to stay in touch – and most opt for much, much less. Our neighborhood, where many adults speak to one another only once every several months, is lively and well-connected by Minnesota standards.
My wife and I sometimes consult about how to create more closeness in Minneapolis, but we have mostly adapted by growing more independent from our extended family and friends and shifted our time and attention towards more ambitious career pursuits. That is, we are becoming more like our neighbors rather than the other way around. Despite how much we felt inspired to create a new culture, it is tough to swim against the current. As individuals, Minnesotans take so many disparate actions day-to-day that contribute to a culture of disconnectedness. Perhaps we don’t realize how isolated we are, and how many other ways there are to live.
I am trying not to place too many value judgments on this phenomenon. I am just one person with observations about a community that I can’t wrap my arms around. But, I would like for us to be aware and intentional about the patterns of community life that we create; maybe even get together and talk about it sometime.