I keep seeing those Progressive Insurance commercials about helping people avoid “becoming their parents.”
They are funny.
But I have started to wonder if some of the things we are supposedly being cured of are actually things we could use a little more of.
When my neighbor’s car hood is open, I will lean over and take a look, even though I possess no meaningful expertise that would justify my involvement.
If I see someone struggling to take a selfie, I will offer to take the picture.
If someone looks confused, there is a decent chance I am going to ask if they need help.
I will strike up a conversation with a stranger.
I will probably offer advice that was never specifically requested.
And if your baby is staring at me from the next table, there is an excellent chance I am going to try to make that kid laugh.
Apparently, these are all signs that I am becoming my dad.
And somehow… this is supposed to be a bad thing.
The commercials work because we recognize these behaviors. They are a little awkward. A little intrusive. Definitely a little “dad.”
But they are also the kinds of small interactions where community actually happens.
Talking to neighbors instead of walking past them.
Helping somebody figure something out.
Sharing something you learned the hard way.
Noticing when another person could use a hand.
Maybe that is part of why I enjoy watching Rob Kenney and his series Dad, How Do I?
Rob Kenney has turned ordinary ‘dad advice’ into something millions of people seek out online through his YouTube channel, Dad, How Do I
His concept is incredibly simple. He teaches people basic things a dad might traditionally have taught you: changing your wiper blades, checking your oil, fixing things around the house, tying a tie.
And millions of people have watched.
There is something interesting about that.
We laugh when the guy next door wanders over to inspect an open car hood, but we will go online and watch a stranger explain exactly what is underneath it.
And I am not here to critique phones or screen time.
I am painfully aware that every generation has found its own way to tune out the people around them.
When I was younger, it might have been disappearing behind a newspaper, putting on a Walkman, or later becoming completely fascinated by that new thing called the Internet.
The technology changes. Human behavior probably does not change nearly as much as we like to think it does.
I also think that over the last 20 years, we have slowly been taught to be a little more suspicious of one another.
As the father of a combined six daughters, I completely understand the need to be socially aware, cautious and protective. There are real reasons for that.
But I also wonder whether, in trying to protect ourselves, we sometimes go so far that we begin giving up the benefits of ordinary interpersonal connection.
Not every stranger is a threat.
Not every conversation needs an agenda.
Sometimes someone is just trying to help.
There are certainly things from previous generations we should leave behind.
In fact, I think that is part of progress.
We take what worked, question what did not, and hopefully evolve into something better.
I certainly do not want to become my father in every way.
But I do wonder whether, somewhere in all that evolution, we are also evolving away from social interaction.
Talking to the person next to us.
Offering to help.
Knowing our neighbors.
Sharing what we know, even when nobody specifically asked.
Maybe the goal should not be to avoid becoming our parents.
Maybe it should be to take the best parts, improve the rest, and make sure we do not lose something valuable along the way.
So yes, if my neighbor’s car hood is open, I am probably going to wander over and take a look.
I still will not know what I am looking at.
But at least we will probably have a conversation.
I have written before about how dogs can accomplish the same thing almost instantly, turning complete strangers into neighbors simply because one of them is holding a leash.
Dan is a community-building professional with years of experience creating a unique sense of community. You can view his LinkedIn profile here.
More stories about travel, community, culture and the occasional questionable life observation can be found at DanRodgerson.net.