I’ve lived in a lot of places in my life.  In 53 years I’ve moved from the city to the country, from the ocean to Europe.  And I am constantly amazed on the different ways people treat each other.

In the city no one is going to talk to you.  They walk down the street and don’t even see you as they stare straight ahead, or look through you if they glance in your direction.  If you stop them to ask a question they look at you warily, scoping out the dangers, before answering you.

I grew up in the city.  I learned early on that you never look at someone else because they might take it as an invitation to talk to you.  And “you might not know what crazies may be approaching you”.  I was comfortable in this atmosphere.  Even though I used to chat to the man at the corner shop where I bought my comics and visit my barber I never knew their names or if they even had families.  If you asked me anything about a person that may have walked by me I wouldn’t be able to tell you because I didn’t see them.

A lot of people own or rent second homes by the ocean.  Quite a few of them are tourists.  They are friendly if you talk to them but they are in your life one minute and gone the next.  They have no reason to get to know you except as a casual acquaintance and when they are gone you never hear from them again.  I liked being close to the water and swimming with the girl next door.  But the girl left and it was time to look for new acquaintances.  I’d mow the lawns for the elderly folks down the street but then they moved on.  I rode bikes and lit firecrackers in the woods with the boy across the street but then he went home.  I enjoyed these people but if you asked me their names I can’t tell you.

I lived in England and France for several years and I enjoyed the people immensely.  They didn’t allow me to ignore them; they would approach me and just talk.  I found Paris interesting.  Wherever I went in the city if I asked for anything in English they did not want to speak to me and in some cases were even rude.  However, when I attempted to speak their language they welcomed me with open arms.  And I found in both countries the people would open their homes to me.  Whenever I go back for visits they won’t allow me to stay in hotels; they always find a room for me.

A few years ago I moved to the country here in the states.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that the “country folk” had a lot of the same characteristics as the English and French.  I cannot walk down a street without having a total stranger smile at me and ask me how I am.  They always seem interested in what I am doing.

Everyone seemed to be in a rush in the city.  When they drive they try to beat the traffic light and get through it before it turns red.  In the country everyone seems relaxed.  If they come to a traffic light while driving, if it turns yellow they slow down and are stopped by the time it is red.

I have certainly gotten used to this way of living and I find that I have taken my blinders off.  I like to smile at people and ask them how they are.

My son Max who is 8 years old now has lived all his life here.  To him it is natural to talk to people and I am convinced he knows everyone by name in our town.  And you know those family secrets a lot of people have?  We can’t have any; he will tell anyone who cares to listen.  “Guess what Daddy had for breakfast.”  “Mom is going for a pedicure this afternoon.”  “I skinned my butt when I fell off my bike today.”  This is a very comfortable way of like for Max.

But then there were a couple of incidents recently that bothered him.  Max already has major anxiety issues and one of them has made things worse for him.

Recently Max and I went on a hike by castle near where we live.  He brought his bike and I trailed along behind him as we traveled the paths up the hill to the castle.  It can take about an hour to reach the top by going through the woods.  It was a nice warm afternoon so there were a lot of people out enjoying the woods and the paths.  As we met people I attempted to smile and talk to them because that’s what everyone does here.

Guess what, Max and I were both ignored by the people we passed.  This was strange, I felt like I was back in the city.  But rather than finding that old comfortable place that I had known growing up there, I was bothered by the lack of communication.  And poor Max had never experienced this kind of reaction to his presence.  He was feeling anxious, why wouldn’t they look at him, why weren’t they talking?  I came to the conclusion that most of these people were tourists up from the city.  They were here to view the castle.

And then there was the Cub Scout issue.  When moving from one level to the next, in this case, from tiger to wolf, there is a time that cubs are required to learn about the pitfalls of talking to strangers.  “What do you do if a car pulls up beside you and a man offers you candy?”  “What if a woman in the park wants you to help her look for her lost dog, what do you do?”  “What if…”

This is a great way for kids to learn to be wary of strangers but what does it do to a young boy who has grown up in the country were everyone is friendly or like that Cheers bar in Boston “where everybody knows your name.”  What does it do to the same boy who has been diagnosed with high anxiety?

Max learned the lessons very well but he also lost something in the process.  He won’t play outside around the house anymore unless either my wife or I stand at the door and watch him.  He will not ride his bike down the street now without someone watching his back.  He cannot go up to his bedroom or down in the basement even in the day time without his parents close by.  And this boy who was always so independent will not walk through town without holding my hand.

Since Max has always been very friendly my wife and I had worried that he would be taken by someone he thought was friendly.  Now we worry that he will never be able to be alone.

Sometimes I wonder if my wife and I had stayed in the city if the antipathy that people have for one another would have been a better environment for him.