You had me at hello

A refresher on how to introduce ourselves, from one who does it badly

Look. I won’t try to tell you that pre-pandemic I was the most socially graceful person the world has ever seen. But post-pandemic, my awkwardness has reached epic levels. Pre-pandemic Joy occasionally struggled with greetings. I lived in Spain for three years in my twenties, and there it was simple: cheek kisses, every time. 

Coming back to America, it was hard to know what to do. The range of ways to approach greeting someone–kissing cheeks, quick hugs, hand shakes, special handshakes, side hugs, miniature waves, and people who felt like making eye contact was a lot to ask–rivals the number of choices in the cereal aisle. 

Coincidentally or not, all my friends from Philadelphia seemed to be natural cheek kissers, so they were a good fit for Post-Spain Joy. (Do they really take being “the city of brotherly love” that literally?) The problem was that most of my friends were not raised there, and cheek kissing was… well, weird. Some people didn’t even like side hugs. When arriving at a dinner party with a mixed bag of guests, what was I to do, especially when the Philadelphians were first in line to say hi to? My standard move was to be Joy Who Cheek Kisses Everyone. Classy and Continental Joy. But the We Don’t Even Side Huggers who knew me before I lived in Spain were confused–alarmed even. Still, I didn’t want them to feel left out, so here came the lips. It definitely made for some awkward moments. 

The truth is, I’m Joy Who Constantly Second Guesses Herself. And this was never more evident than a couple months ago.

First, I need to set the scene a little. Our covid restrictions here have included being told we should never shake hands, but rather, only bump elbows. This was not a “Maybe don’t?” but a “You could get in trouble for it” kind of thing. 

Okay. Not only am I socially awkward at times, but physically–well, I’ve been known to trip over my own feet. Achieving perfect contact from my elbow to another person’s was quite challenging. There were times when we got a little crazy and bumped fists, and since old habits die hard, we even (gasp!) accidentally shook hands, always feeling like we had just committed some kind of dark crime. Both parties would look around nervously, like, “Did anyone see that?” One might be known to announce too loudly, “DON’T WORRY. I JUST WASHED MY HANDS” to which the other would answer, “SAME HERE.”  

Anyway, a couple months ago, things finally started loosening up. And on a warmish day in early spring, I met my husband for lunch near his work. We were sitting outside in the sun, finishing our Subway sandwiches, when one of his co-workers approached. He and Matt chatted for a bit, then he turned to me and said, “Hi, I’m Bob*.” (*pretty sure that was not his real name, but honestly I don’t remember because I’m so hung up on what came next)

Before I could think better of it (the sun! being comfortable outside after a long winter! it just all went to my brain!), my right hand was moving forward. No, not my elbow–my actual hand. In the 0.64 seconds it took my hand to travel into the Shaking Zone, it dawned on me that 1) this might not yet be an acceptable greeting and 2) his hand had not been extended at all. This sent a zing of panic through my entire body that caused me to close my fist, ready to fist bump. But by this time, his hand was coming toward mine, open and in Shaking Position. 

Panic! Panic! Panic! The alarms were going off in my head. What to do? WHAT TO DO??!!

Quick as lightning, I wrangled my arm into Elbow Bump Position, which subsequently made him panic. It probably looked like I was about to slap him or perform some kind of judo chop to his face. He closed his hand and the elbow started coming toward me, but then for some reason, I back-tracked all the way to Plan A and went with an open hand-shake. 

The result was, somehow… I don’t know. I shook his fist, okay? Yes, it’s true. It was as painfully awkward as you can imagine. “Bob” just stood there looking dazed as I pumped his closed fist with my hand. As Matt put it later, “It was like you were playing some really weird version of Rock, Paper, Scissors.” 

Anyway, it’s clearly no small miracle that I have any friends. I can’t point to my social graces and oozing charm. But in a world that seems to have forgotten how to Decently Human (and yes, I just did that thing where you turn a noun into a verb), I somehow have some Really Wonderful Friends.

And I know this might not seem earth-shattering, but whilst navigating so much of this world, I’ve realized that a lot of people do NOT, in fact, bother saying “Hi.” You can look people in the eye and smile, shooting butterflies and fairy dust out of your ears and sending allllll the friendly vibes, and they’ll just act like you’re a psychopath and make sure to give you a very wide berth as they pass. But the people who make Really Wonderful Friends have one thing in common: they meet your gaze and utter those two magic syllables: Hello. (variations include: Bonjour, Sawasdee, Hola, Bongiorno, Salaam, etc) 

Let me tell you about my friend Lynn.

I met her several years ago when I lived in Pacific Grove, California, and walked my Australian Shepherd every morning at 6:15 along the Ocean View Trail. For several weeks after I moved there, we’d meet each other’s eyes and say, “Hello.” (Or when we felt more energetic, a full, “Good morning.”) From there, it grew to, “How are you?” or, “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” until one morning, Lynn asked, “Mind if I walk with you?” And from there, one of the sweetest friendships grew.   

Here’s the thing, though: Lynn is thirty-seven years older than me. There wasn’t a lot about us that appeared to be similar. She could have talked herself out of the possibility of friendship or just not bothered to give me the time of day. Instead, what started with “Hello” turned into miles of shared common ground, interesting life lessons and wisdom gleaned, a kind ear to listen to. We’ve been friends now through the births of three of my kids and the death of her husband. Our friendship is a treasure. 

Four years ago, I moved from Busan, South Korea to a base about an hour and half from Seoul. I had to move before Matt because we wanted our kids to start school in our new location, and I was having the hardest time figuring out what were the good places to look for a house. I made a really desperate post on a Facebook page, and my friend Elizabeth responded not just with “Hello,” but, “I think I know of a great house for you!” Turns out it was next door to her, as in a duplex so we shared a wall. And not just any wall, but the wall to our bedrooms and bathrooms. 

But she was right! The two years we lived in that house were so happy. Our neighborhood was beautiful, and a sweet friendship grew from being neighbors. When I think about her sending that message, I think of how brave it was to say that. I mean, it’s one thing to say “Hi” and another to invite someone to be your share-a-wall neighbor. I don’t know if I would have been as brave.The craziest sequel to this story is that she left Korea a year later, but we both came back last year. (But then she left again this summer. Such is our life.) 

I’ve mentioned it before, but when I moved here to Seoul last year, we truly felt so isolated. My kids cried at night, asking when and how we would ever meet anyone. But it all changed the day we were at the pool and my friend Courtney said, “Hi. You must be new here.”

It’s an act of bravery to say hi, to meet new people. You might make a total fool of yourself when you do it. (Clearly, I speak from experience!) You might be rejected. They might be weird. Still, I hope that over the last two years, we haven’t forgotten how to take that crazy/ bold first step, to risk embarrassment, awkwardness, and finding out someone is a crazy cat lady. 

Just think of the possibilities.

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Reading:

We’re halfway through the year! I haven’t read that much lately with the kids home from school all day and constantly talking to me (which I enjoy, don’t get me wrong! It just makes reading or listening to audiobooks more challenging), but here are a few books I enjoyed.

Undistracted by Bob Goff. This book felt like one of Goff’s signature balloons, light and uplifting and so inspiring. I really enjoyed it.

Balanced and Barefoot by Angela J. Hanscom. If you have kids in your life that you deeply care about (parent/ teacher/ awesome aunt or uncle, etc), this is such a valuable book. It’s written by an occupational therapist, and has so much information. After I read this, I’m afraid I turned into one of those obnoxious, “Did you know…” people. It describes a lot of things I’ve always just done as mom and daughter of an occupational therapist, but it’s good to better understand the “why” behind all those things.

One of my favorite times of day with my kids is at bedtime, when I read a book aloud. Last year, we were introduced to The Vanderbeekers series by Karina Yan Glaser, and we fell in love with this (fictional) family. We just finished The Vanderbeekers Lost and Found, which illicited many, many tears from me, but was beautiful and sweet.

Another great book we read this spring was Sugar by Jewell Parker Rhodes. I think someone gave it to us for Christmas, and we loved it. I was afraid it would be pretty depressing. It was heartbreaking at times, but also beautifully inspiring and hopeful.

I also had a few essays published on She Is Kindred. “The Skeleton” — what a genetic test revealed, “Pieces”— about what we call home, and “Kindness for Myself” — words on body image and my battle with anorexia. She is Kindred also invited me to be a guest on their podcast to talk more about breaking the cycle of broken body image.

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I hope your summer is going beautifully! Don’t forget to SAY HELLO!! Just… try to be less awkward than me. ;-)

—Joy