TJ Hirst

Social (synonyms: companionable, convivial, gregarious, sociable) The central meaning of these adjectives is inclined to, marked by, or passed in friendly companionship with others.

My husband is an introvert, and I am an extrovert. My children line up in different ways around us. My teenage daughter, who is more like her dad, and I have a new opportunity to interact in social settings with her beyond our family, and it causes me to ask myself about sociality and personality. A friend confessed that she and her husband are both introverts, which surprised me because she initiates conversations and keeps them going with friends and strangers alike. But she said they worked really hard at being extroverts.

Neither being an introvert nor an extrovert is preferable. But we all need to interact in the communities we circulate. Social skills are the way we do that successfully.

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I planted an idea into the mind of my 14-year-old daughter, EH, that this would be a good summer to volunteer somewhere. Independently, she made some plans. Now, she volunteers 3-4 hours per week at our local arboretum. She rides her bike there, a mile and a half, once a week and fulfills odd jobs around the gardens and trails like weeding and watering. This week the manager told her he would like to pay her for her work! She did so well and consistently showed up as a volunteer that they hired her. Her initiative paid her back.

We talk a lot about the self-confidence that youth receive in team sports or other activities, but real-life work opportunities bring them to a realization that they, too, have a valuable contribution to make in the world. She received the job by putting herself in a place where she showed her willingness to learn and a natural reward came. Those are the best life lessons my teen can receive as she begins her transition into the “real” world—one that is an obvious outgrowth of what we seek to encourage at home.

How about you? What was your first job? Did it feel like a foreign venture into an adult world that seemed to operate on a different level? Or was it a natural outgrowth from something you were already involved in? How did it build your confidence? What did you learn?

“If you could have any one magical power, what would you pick?”

My youngest daughter pulled out the The Kids Book of Questions at the dinner table and asked us this one.

My answer?

Mufflers on my ears that block all the noise but allow me to tune in and listen when it is important for me to hear.

Summer vacation started with a bang, a bump, a scream, a fight, a loud voice, an interruption and the general inability to concentrate.

My stylist had the same problem. She tried to reassure herself and me that after two weeks we should all settle in. I’m wondering if that means they will reduce the noise, I will grow more tolerant, or those magical mufflers will appear in the mail.

Which power would you choose?

The story on National Public Radio was Melissa Block reporting from China on the rescue efforts after the earthquake. At first, it was only a background to the hubbub of kids’ voices in the car as my three children and I drove to a church activity at the park.

I turned up the volume, and the conversation behind me became just two voices. On the radio, she described the experience of a father and mother seeking help to search the rubble of their apartment building for their 2-year-old son and his grandparents. They were leading an excavator through the streets of their city, past precarious structures and roadblocks with hope to find their son alive two days after the earthquake.

Less than a minute into the report, the sorrowful sounds of the in-the-moment report of their search were the only ones in the car; my children were silent and listening. A woman was ripping three sections from a white sheet and giving them to the frantic mother to cover the faces of her family if they were found dead, according to local customs.

We hoped with them as we drove through our own city streets where the excavators and heavy equipment lined up for construction projects, not to rescue destruction. The sunny lakeside park we entered only highlighted our distance from their reality. We saw young men playing Frisbee, and we heard the rescuers’ report—they found the bodies of a small boy with two older people.

My children stayed silent when I turned off the car and grieved with this mother who was a stranger but for whom I felt a connection and compassion.

Read the full story or listen to the 11-minute broadcast, “Couple Frantic to Find Loved Ones in Rubble” at the NPR website.

The scale of the disasters and loss of life in Myanmar and China are unfathomable. The geographical and cultural distances further disconnect us from the reality of the situation. Individual stories like this one, in addition to factual information, allow us to feel a piece of the devastation.

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I was a candystriper in a hospital with a cute pink and white striped, pinafore jumper, a white shirt and white Keds tennis shoes. At 14, my friend and I made beds with hospital corners, answered room calls at the nurse’s station, delivered flowers or meals to patent’s rooms and pushed wheelchairs. We felt responsible and helpful, except when I dropped the urine specimen that wasn’t ready to be delivered to the lab.

This week is National Volunteer Week, and I encouraged my oldest daughter to find a volunteer job for the summer.

I was also invited to a volunteer recognition luncheon at the elementary school. I was embarrassed about going because I am a parent volunteer who only occasionally helps in my daughter’s classroom. I have two friends who are active PTA or PTO officers and another friend who is always helping in her daughter’s and son’s classrooms. They deserve a recognition lunch.

I do volunteer. In fact, I give much of my time freely to others, but I just help in less-structured ways. For instance, on the day of the recognition luncheon, my friend called at 6 a.m. and needed some unexpected help. Other than the luncheon, I was available and glad to help her. (To the volunteers who organized it, I am truly sorry for skipping it. It was a nice gesture.)

The opportunity met her needs, enriched our bonds of friendship, and made me feel productive and useful. These positives were the most important recognition for me. While it is nice to be appreciated, most of us do not volunteer for the recognition.

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