The Space Between Us.

As he sees me cross the small lobby, he snaps up from the terminal he's working on, behind the counter. He flashes a prepared smile, and offers a standard greeting. I wonder how many times he's repeated it tonight, thirty, forty times.., maybe more. But his greeting is not rehearsed, it's not the cold, feigned greeting I usually get - there's earnestness in it, and a fair genuiness that doesn't go unnoticed. I smile back, and engage in the businessman's conversation. Another flight, another town.., another hotel.

 

As I awoke this morning, I opened and closed at least a half dozen encounters with people that serve for a career. From the taxi driver, who is a regular, and is always pleasant, the two gate agents at the American Airlines counter, both with corporate delivered tones, the flight attendants with a mix of honest smiles and the regular drones, the car rental agent who loosened up, after I struck up a short conversation. For all of our technologies and communication - as a species, we have the least capability to communicate effectively with each other. The message interpreted and potentially misread at least three times in the line of contact with one another - once when thought is turned into words, then as audio is received by the auditory sense, and again, as the sounds as re-interpreted from sound waves to the brain. We hinge on this link to exchange the world within us. Do animals do a better job than us, even without an advanced language? Old people seem to share a secret rhythm that we often don't often share.

 

What is it about the need to communicate that is so strong in us? Is is in our DNA? Passed down from early man, sitting around fires, and sharing stories of the hunt, or did we acquire it on our road to civilization? How many wars started from a result of miscommunication between two people or countries? Even today, many would say, as we've become a global village - our ability to communicate effectively has deteriorated. Not just countries, but right at the family unit - are we losing our ability to communicate, ironically, by the very tools of technological communications - pagers, the Internet, cell phones, television, and others? The drive to increase communication seems to be reversing actual communication.

 

Several months ago, I remember I grabbed baby Zak, as he was reaching for my laptop, while I was working. I moved him to the side - it occurred to me in that moment, that the machine in front of me came between my son and I. I had unknowingly moved a barrier between my son and myself, showing him the order of priorities between us. In that moment, the slap of reality hit me, and being grateful that it did, I put my laptop down, and got on the carpet with my son, looked at his smiling face, and played with him. I made a promise to never let any communication get in between us again, I hope I live up to the promise.

 

Now, as I cross the country meeting and working with clients, the space between us, my wife and son is crossed with phone calls. Zak is only 18 months old, and recognizes my voice on the phone, but can't communicate with me - I have to satisfy myself with his yelps and laughter. Why would a communication of unrecognizable sounds from a baby give me so much pleasure? I don't know, but every father and mother lives for those sounds, and looks forward to them.

 

 

The rep behind the counter finishes checking me in to the room I've reserved. He's in his twenties, and I can tell he's eager to do his job, there's an air of energy around him, he likes his job, he wants to move up the ladder. I tell him, I'll be in town for at least three weeks, and ask him for tips about restaurants. He lists the only four of five of them around the area. I'm in Sayre, Pennsylvania - there's not much here. I tell him I appreciate his help and service, and head to my room.  I get to my room, and set up my ammunition of communication. Turn on the laptop to communicate with work, check my PDA to communicate with email, and make a call on my cell phone, to communicate and listen to Zak's yelps and unrecognizable words.