The Container Store

 

Recently I made a visit to the Container Store. It is a place that equally delights and terrifies me.  Walking along the aisles I feel so inadequate. How have I managed without special dinner plate storage containers?  I have dishes packed in cardboard boxes in the basement.  How have I managed without matching bins for rice, pasta, and beans?  My pantry doesn't look like this...


And that's just the kitchen side of the store. Once I venture over to the bedroom, or the office, I start to feel overwhelmed.  Would my life really improve if I had a bra rack? 

There is this mixture of optimism and despair. Maybe if I only had the right boxes, bins, or containers, my life would feel more complete, more stable. But, I'm so far behind...how could I ever catch up?  There are so many things I'm doing wrong...messy drawers, mixed up cupboards...is there any hope for someone like me?  I gaze longingly at closets with neat racks and hooks.  Could my life be that clean?  that tidy?  Would I want it to be?

Strength of weak ties

In the 1970's sociologist Mark Granovetter published an influential article on "The Strength of Weak Ties."  At a very basic level, he argued that it is not through our close, dense networks that we gain new information, but through our connection to other networks.  Some people serve as bridges, connecting two dense networks.  This allows information and ideas to spread from one group to another.  If every group is isolated from each other, then they can't access the people in other networks.  Here is a simple explanation, if you are really interested:

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Bm93gN1zJg
 

His ideas have been very influential and applied to many types of groups, from individuals to countries.

But, I want to talk about other dimensions, or meanings, of the "strength of weak ties."  I've lived in Chicago over three years now, and have begun to feel like I "belong."  What does that mean?  It means that the dry cleaner on the corner knows my name and remembers me when I come in. It means that a neighbor down the street who is often outside when I walk to the gym calls out and says, "Work hard!"  It means that the producer of the Moth storytelling events says, "Hi, Chris" when I walk into the venue. I don't have regular interactions with these people, I wouldn't call on them if I was sick. They are weak ties, but they create for me a sense that I'm known and acknowledged.

A few weeks ago I met two friends for a weekend getaway. We have been friends for about 50 years, but we interact rarely.  Years went by without any contact and even now we see each other infrequently. Still, we have a bond that is different from any others. It is not the same as siblings, but like siblings we knew each other all through the awkward pre-teen and teen years. We knew each others families, first boyfriends, and bad fashion choices. But, while we know a good deal about each other now, we are not active in each other's every day lives. We don't turn first to each other in times of trouble. We don't interact on any regular basis.  We have a bond that is both strong and weak.  Strong in history, weak in the present.  Those ties are important in their own right. In much the same way that Granovetter's bridges link social networks, our ties link our past and present selves.

So, today I'll celebrate all those weak ties.  The people who recognize my face today and give me a sense of belonging in the present and those who connect the me of today to the me of years ago and give me a sense of continuity.