INSPIRATION
Words Can Work Wonders
From a lonely kid to a global citizen who learned how to connect
Our blended family loves words. We often shorten or make up our own words. As an avid reader, I know what many mainstream and complex words mean but frequently mispronounce them, much to the anguish of my husband. Several of us in our family speak English and Spanish. The latter makes much more sense because you get to sound things out and do not have so many “exceptions to the rules” like in English.
I tend towards fiction. A friend said the best book they had recently read was John Koenig’s “The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.” They shared three of their favorite definitions with me. I was hesitant to read non-fiction until I got to the third one. I was intrigued. The author blew any hesitations out the window when he opened the book with this foreword,
“It’s a dictionary of made-up words for emotions that we all feel but don’t have the words to express, filled with new definitions, illustrations, etymologies, and essays that seek to capture the forgotten corners of the human condition.”
Slowly, I reread my friend’s third favorite definition, “Allope,” pronounced “al-uh-pee.” “A mysterious aura of loneliness you feel in certain places... if only they could somehow connect.”
Wow.
As a kid, I moved around a lot, from my hometown of Rochester to the cold city of Boston to the sun and rainy deluges of Bangkok to a suburb of the nation’s capital, Silver Spring, MD, all before I turned nine years old. I was often that lonely kid who craved connection. Since I didn’t have friends, I turned to books.
Books travel well; if you read like I do, you can fall into a novel and be anywhere you want. Books don’t make fun of you for having “high waters or floods” or say, “You’re a girl, so you can’t play soccer on a boy’s team.”
Anyone being a bully (teasing me about my pants) or naysayer (telling me I can’t play) hasn’t met my mother. She is a force of nature who believes in finding solutions and getting sh*t done. She often did several things simultaneously; after work, she’d experiment with a new recipe for three unappreciative kids and run late to pick up our dad at the airport. She inspired me.
My dad did, too.
He joined the US Peace Corps, then took us around the world. They supported my bookworm tendencies and showed me a world beyond books. At their behest, I learned how to kick a ball on the soccer pitch; I didn’t know then that it would become a lifelong passion.
My parents also taught me how to connect with the community by welcoming strangers into our family and lives.
Peace Corps volunteers (late 1960s) loved to hang out in our living room with their long, sometimes braided hair and platform shoes. At 7, I mimicked them by wearing the grooviest patent leather boots with a corduroy mini skirt and a polka-dot shirt.
We also had a series of young women stay with us from the unwed mothers’ home (also in the late 60s). They lived with us and helped with the household and kids until their water broke. Yup, we knew what that meant! My parents often got letters from the women after their paths diverged from ours.
When I got home from my first job after college graduation, people from my parents’ business might be at our dinner table. Car trouble or needing a good meal was as good a reason as any. When my parents bought the franchise that made professional recruitment our family business, Management Recruiters of Mclean, I swore I would never work as a headhunter. I hated talking to strangers, but this is where the word “Allope” hit home.
To say my life was unusual or a bit out of beat with my peers was true. I had moved around a lot, played soccer when the other kids were still playing kickball, had kids in my early 20s (DC folks were going to grad school and delayed kids), and followed in my parent’s intro to the international world by moving my family to Guatemala.
I knew what it felt like to be alone, in your room, wanting to connect but not knowing how.
To quell the angst of being socially awkward, I retreated to stories of heroes and heroines, friends and lovers, and for a while, I could feel like I was a part of the tale. A favorite book of mine from that time is “Eleanor & Franklin” by Joseph P. Lash. Based on her private papers, Eleanor describes feeling lonely amid a crowd. I could relate, especially to how she would take a stance that wasn’t necessarily popular.
It’s not about being around many people or agreeing with their opinions. The critical part is about feeling needed and connected. My parents built a strong community wherever they went by helping others who needed it.
I think they were onto something.
The best way to overcome loneliness in a crowd is to find valuable ways to connect. I often host my family for birthdays or find the time to take a walk and listen to a friend. Volunteering on my own or with my family for our favorite nonprofit, Leveling the Playing Field, makes my life have more meaning.
Feeling needed blows that feeling of disconnect right out of the water.
It helps me move beyond myself, stop thinking about my feelings, and focus on what others around me need or want. After all, if you focus on others, you have no time to wallow in self-pity.
But remember what Roosevelt noticed: you can feel lonely even in a crowd, so make sure the connections have value.
Making connections and introductions in my personal and professional life is my calling. Malcolm Gladwell calls us “Mavens or Connectors,” who see possibilities and connect the dots. I get to do it for a living, introduce people to potential companies, and make matches that combine individual talents with organizational needs.
It feeds my soul. Sometimes, it’s OK to lean into that “mysterious aura of loneliness you feel in certain places.” Other times, I know there are ways to engage, feel needed, and connect.
Next time you have a thought, like “Dylan might enjoy meeting Alex,” they both love hiking, make the intros. Or “I really like your shirt,” say it out loud and put a smile on the person’s face. The pause to be kind, share a compliment, or even introduce yourself can lead to many happier people and places!
For the record, I’ve introduced seven couples who’ve married.
