In many ways I am a late bloomer. For instance, it’s taken me most of my 77 years to realize that I am a “people person.” I’ve always known, of course, that I enjoy people and, in fact, am even energized by people. But I also have a large dose of ‘shy’ in my personality (hard to believe, I know!) and until recently that has often interfered with my comfort level in certain social situations.
All that being said, I have now concluded that I’d like to be a sociologist ‘when I grow up.’ I am fascinated by the interactions among the people I meet and, most specifically, among the people I know and love. Here in Oysterville, we live in the perfect Petri dish for making certain societal observations.
Just within the last two weeks, for instance, we have a new, full-time couple in town. More than a year ago, they bought Polly’s house at the end of the street but have been living and working in Southern California. Apparently, they have now retired, packed up their belongings, and have moved here on a permanent basis. We have not yet met them, but hope the opportunity presents itself soon.
Meanwhile, their full-time status has gone a long way toward evening up the number of full-timers at the two ends of the village. In fact, we now seem to have a big enough population that people are beginning to identify residents as living at the “north end” or at the “south end” of town.
I don’t think there is any underlying implication to the distinction – not like saying that people live on the other side of the tracks. (Perhaps it is fortunate that the train never made it to Oysterville, after all!) When I become a sociologist, maybe I’ll better understand how the addition of a few people can tip the balance in the perception of a community..
Closer to home, there is the matter of our Friday Night gatherings – a time when our friends – new, old, close-by neighbors, far-away visitors – come to share some food and fellowship. There is no “agenda” or “topic of the eveing.” People talk about whatever is on their minds at the moment – sometimes serious, sometimes silly, and sometimes not even very interesting. That’s what makes every Friday Night an adventure,.
Over the years, some of our friends have become “regulars,” some are more like “irregulars,” and occasionally we hear about “wannabes” who we also try to make welcome. Our intent has always to be inclusive, rather than exclusive. Very often, of course, our guests don’t know one another for, despite the limited numbers in the village, itself, our friends come from far and wide. And, occasionally, the mix of people in our living room have little in common and don’t see eye-to-eye at all.
When I become a sociologist, I’m going to take a look at how that turn of events might be handled. I’m already taking notes. A few regulars have actually stopped coming over on Fridays. Several have suggested that we conduct our Friday evenings more like the “French Salons” of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Others have expressed a desire to monitor our guest list. Hmmm. Without the benefit (yet!) of that Sociology Degree, I think I’ll just go back just four or five decades to the wisdom of Leslie Gore who famously sang, “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to…”
As an infrequent attendee at Friday nights at the Stevens home and an infrequent hostess of Salons, House Concerts, Dialogs, etc. and as an age similar friend of the up and coming becoming sociologist, my “dream” profession would be that off a behavioral scientist which is another way of saying sociologist.