Older neighbors and the importance of spatial identity

This weekend, on my way to a place called "The End of the World" I had the opportunity to talk to a Bostonian at the train stop. Besides knowing the Boston area and possible routes very well, this gentleman turned out to be a lover of Spain (he had been first for a while during the Franco era and again in 1981) and of Italy. His conversation led me to reflect on the importance of attachment to space in old age and how spatial identity is a fundamental element in old age. Also, and I know that I insist here, on the importance of talking to the people around us, of sharing. Even if it sometimes means missing a train (in the real sense, not in the figurative sense). In this case, I met a person who knew the history of Boston and the United States well, and who also vehemently defended the importance of the public sphere as a key motor for social development. And there he earned his space in this blog, of course. 

This man was a Boston man who was certainly over 65, although I would not know how to estimate his age. He was riding his bicycle without a coat (it was 0 degrees Celsius, with a much lower wind chill). He approached me when I got lost (I get lost easily, whether or not I have a map, GPS or similar, but getting lost is the best way to get to know new places) to help me and, at the same time, to convince me to visit his city, which he thought was one of the most interesting in Massachusetts. The Bostonian equivalent to the "and you of who you are" (that I was asked when I was a child in my grandfather's town) is the "and you what brings you to Boston". When I told her that I do research on residential inequality and how people over 65 live, she approved of my research topic: "So you do research on me. That's very good. He talked about the importance of his city, Quincy, in Norfolk County and how it had been built. Not only did he talk about the specific stone that the City Hall building had been built with and where in Massachusetts it came from (yes, he really knew these details), but he talked about the social construction of the area. How public services (including schools) had been critical to the development of the area: "Now we've forgotten, but before it was all public. And it worked well. Today we are what we are because of that". He spoke of how sometimes losing our memory of our history prevents us from realizing the irrationality of many of our prejudices "We are all immigrants at some point in our lives. But we forget that and that this country without immigrants would not be what it is. 

I found the conversation very interesting, but above all I liked the love with which he spoke of his land. A land that to me sometimes becomes arid, cold. For him it meant something more, and he saw beyond what I could see. He spoke with such affection about his city and how it was part of his personal history, how it had been important for him to be part of that place, that I could not help but remember some of my interviewees in Spain. Despite the distances and cultural differences, the love for the neighbourhood and the social identity associated with the space were very similar to those of the people I interviewed for my thesis. I found it important and revealing to find that link that unites older generations in different cultures and that has to do with the relationships that are created with space, with how the symbolic becomes a fundamental part of our identity. This gentleman spoke to me about his city, Quincy (the birthplace of two presidents, no less) with the same pride that a lady in Spain spoke to me years ago about her town in Castile and Leon, and which in turn was the same pride that another lady transmitted when she told me about the Madrid neighbourhood where she was born and lived all her life. The spaces from which they could be separated temporarily, but to which they always returned, even if it was in memory. I insist: the space where we grow up and live, where we socialize and where we relate, is very important in our identity. It is important throughout our lives, but its importance increases as we grow older. Because we know more, because we learn to look with different eyes, because our attachment increases with time. 

The conversation with this man was great for a number of reasons. Most urgently, he helped me find the right train, as well as telling me about the best views in "The End of the World" (yes, that's really what it's called). He invited me to reflect on how, beyond borders, local identity is important to older people, including in the United States. He also told me many interesting things about a city that I would not have paid much attention to otherwise. The best possible ambassador from Quincy was this man.

It is also true that I treasured that moment more because it is not so usual to have such extensive conversations with strangers. I said in a previous post that the way you relate to strangers, as I have experienced it in the United States, is different from ours. I mean that in Spain it is more common to talk to someone in the street, in the park, or while waiting in the fish shop. Of course in Spain there are also enormous contrasts in the way we relate between generations or places, that there are numerous nuances and that it seems that in the big cities this is changing, that we are losing it. But something fundamental is that we care, because we often "complain" that the social character is lost, that we talk to each other less and that we get lost in front of the screen. Perhaps because of that complaint (which means the fact that we don't like it) it is important to reflect on the value of small interactions or how a small conversation improves our day and that of our interlocutor. 

But in the face of this, of the possible change and the risk of losing that part of our social identity, it is worth remembering the importance of talking to neighbours and non-neighbours, saying hello, paying attention to what is happening in our social environment. Sharing a conversation. Revalue and rethink those small conversations that enrich our daily lives and that confirm that we are part of a community, of a society. I am referring to those brief interactions that remind us that we are not alone and that are so important not only in our daily lives, but even for our mental health, in the long term, and for our immediate well-being. The test is simple: Try not talking to anyone for a whole day. Maybe on the first day, if you've been very busy, the effects on how you feel won't be so bad. The feeling of discomfort is reduced if you have a pet, but one day added to another day clearly affects our mood. It's the same for everyone else. But, besides, if we don't talk to the people around us, we may not know such interesting things.