House Lights

One of those Facebook trends is going around wherein everyone’s writing quizzes to find out how well other people “really” know them. As of yet, I haven’t scored 100% on any of these and the only person to score 100% on mine was my husband–I tried to make mine easy. It’s easy to feel down about these things. “Crap. Do I really know anyone? Does anyone really know me?”

What is a good indication of what it means to “know” me or to know the others in my life?

I often tell Eric “I know you.” These words are used to explain how I know he’s had a bad day or that he’s frustrated or that he’s ready to go home from a party or even that he’s hungry. He repeats the same phrase to me quite often too. Eric and I work. My relationship with him is by far the most rewarding and meaningful relationship I have. We’ve been married for nearly four years now. Now, looking at our relationship, I understand what it meant when, at our wedding, our pastor discussed that “two were becoming one.” I understand him and when I’m not being selfish, I can often anticipate his needs and desires. I know him.

But what of relationships outside of romantic partnership? Those who we don’t “know” in the biblical sense? How do we know that we know someone? What does it mean, in that context to “know” someone?

It seems in the age of Facebook we’ve equated closeness in relationships to the memorization of trivial facts. We seem to feel valued if and only if people have chosen to fill their brains with mundane factoids about our existence.

It’s like establishing your “Indie Cred” when you’re standing in line to attend a concert. Go stand in any queue outside a local independent music venue and you’ll inevitably hear conversation bites (or 5) that go roughly like this:

Speaker 1: “Man, I can’t believe it’s been [insert number between 1-9] years since I’ve seen [insert relevant band name] live.”

Speaker 2: “I bet they’ll open up with [insert obscure song from least popular album].”

Speaker 1: “They recently got a new [insert instrument] player because the old one [choose one of the following: joined a new band; died; found Jesus].”

Speaker 3: “[Insert first name only of lead singer] is such an inspirational modern day poet.”

You get the point. Almost everyone stands around spewing factoids in an effort to sound interesting and hip. They attempt to assure everyone close by that they know as much as everyone else. No one is talking to the person or persons they’re with, really. Instead, they’re justifying their presence at the show, proving their fandom.

Soon, however, the concert will begin and the truth will be revealed. Some of those same chatterboxes will leave early. Some will boo the very bands their esteemed band of choice has chosen to tour with. Some will become so occupied by the way others in the crowd treat them that the music will no longer be their focus. Some will become so drunk it’s hard to believe they’ll remember how to get home, much less how the show went. Some will sing only to the hits and simply sway through the more obscure tunes.

Others, perhaps those more quiet in line, know that concerts are messy and sometimes uncomfortable, but will still stay put until the house lights come on and the room begins to empty. Others will lose themselves in the moment and not even notice the hair from the person in front of them that tickles their face or the elbow or oversized pocketbook bruising their ribs. They’ll keep smiling even as the tall person steps in front of them and blocks their view; it’s about the sound, after all. Still others will sing loud and proud every lyric, even though their voice is shameful and their throat aches from distress.

One person can easily find themselves in one of the above groups one night and in the opposite on another or even during a different moment in the show. The facts they can cite about the band matter little, after all, they can come, as mine often do, from a Google search moments before leaving for the concert. What truly matters is how they experience and interact with the music in the moment.

The facts about me can be learned by those who happens to request access to them via Facebook–and I’m not particularly picky about this “friending” business. But will those requesters stay with me until the house lights come on?