More Answers... (8/24/25 Newsletter): The Power of Connections (and coffee...)
Hi Everyone,
Here's the blog version of the Sunday Evening "More Answers..." to get a friendly boost to setup your work week!
Remember to sign up for the newsletter for bonus material!! (https://www.askchrista.com/newsletter/)
This week was a tough week for a lot of people in my network. More layoffs, the national news headlines (please please please take breaks, balance and pace your news consumption), a grid-locked job market, and worries all around.
I scrapped what I drafted for this week-- I'll send that out next week.
Instead I wrote something from scratch. In the moment.
For this week, I'm going to share a story about my parents and their families and how small, connective love of things can change everything sometimes.
Hang in there everyone. Be good to others. Keep up with your fluids, eat good food, get good rest.
See you next week with a more typical More Answers... newsletter.
With kindness,
Christa
Mendelian Inheritance and the Coffee That Binds
I grew up surrounded by my dad's large extended Italian-American family.
When I say "large," I mean his mom (my grandma) was the oldest of 11 children, all born between 1910 and 1936. In fact, the youngest was born just seven years before my dad was born, and half of his other aunts and uncles were only 12-15 years older, so there was an interesting peer range with my dad and half of his cousins, who were, on average, 20 years younger than him.
That pack, the younger half of my grandma's siblings, became the core of my dad's childhood. The sisters were "The Aunts," and all of their kids were "The Cousins."
Big family. Warm family. Fun family.
Loud, unapologetic, big-time huggers.
My dad grew up in triple-decker Somerville, MA amidst new Italian immigrants and blocks of established families like his mom and dad's families. My grandma's dad owned stores and properties in Cambridge that got them through The Great Depression; by the early 40s they were in one of the remaining properties with two tenants on the other two floors.
On Sundays my grandparents would invite The Aunts over for a big meal (worth noting, many times this included the 1-2 uncles also, plus all the significant others and cousins). After dinner, they would clear and make the percolated coffee.
The core crowd would be in the kitchen, close to the coffee. From there the rest of the company would trickle into the dining room then into the parlor. They'd talk and laugh and talk and laugh. It was good-feelin', fun-lovin' talk, as if they were never taught how to gossip or simply had no need of it. They told fun stories that were funny, with master comedic timing.
There was also an incredibly unique talent they all had that they seemed to pass down to their kids and grandkids. And I can say unequivocally that my sisters and I got it, too, in a strange Mendelian Inheritance kind of way: a unique capability to have three or four "cross conversations," where our brains can move back and forth across the room chiming into various discussions in. the. moment.
We don't actually shift in and out of the conversations; we are fully present in multiple conversations, so it's not like we STOP listening to one IN ORDER TO listen to the other.
We listen to all of them, as if they all deserve equal parts of us:
An Aunt would insert her thoughts into one corner's discussion, then turn to the left and add to THAT discussion as someone from across the room would ALSO add to that discussion, then someone from the dining room would correct a name given in a different conversation, and someone would chime in on that also, then a new discussion would start between the kitchen and the dining room, which eventually included someone in the parlor also.
It's just how it was. Normal. Typical. And Awesome.
If there were an evidence board tracking the discussions, the conversation string would be EVERYWHERE AT THE SAME TIME WITH NO DIRECTIONAL PATTERN.
THERE WAS NO NEED FOR PATTERN; IT WAS ABOUT CONNECTION.
---------------
My mom grew up on a chicken farm in a small French-American village in Penobscot County Maine, just 15 miles north of Bangor, current population of her town? ~1.6K
(yes, that's 1,600 people right now; it was closer to 400 when she grew up; I've worked in companies with the same number of employees as the number of people in the town where my mom grew up... it blows my mind...)
My mom describes her childhood fondly, and in a Mayberry kind of way. They would go to church on Sundays, which was nearly an all-day affair: church, lunch at the church, some friends over after from the church.
Her mom, a virtuoso pianist, played the organ in the church. Relatives supported the church through various roles.
School was catholic school with nuns as teachers. Not all were mean.
In contrast to my dad: my mom's aunts shushed the kids, and kids didn't participate or contribute to adult conversations... which was mostly gossip.. the contemptuous-judgmental type of gossip. Lots of "tsk tsk tsk..." and slow shaking of heads.
Still-- her immediate family was a solid, warm family (still are), and she remembers a fun childhood.
Similar to my dad's family, my mom's family has a unique Mendelian Inheritance: they all metabolize caffeine really fast, so they can have high-test at 8pm and be out like a light by 9pm.
And wow, do they LOVE their coffee.
When my mom graduated high school in 1963 she found her way to Somerville, MA by way of San Diego (long story, and a GREAT story), and eventually met my dad.
Then she met The Aunts. And had the meals, now in someone's suburban house instead of the triple-decker. The cousins were in middle school or high school, and of course invited in on the discussions (my sisters and I always were also, no matter what age).
My mom drank the percolated coffee, and The Aunts marveled at her caffeine tolerance. The Aunts instantly included my mom as one of their own, something she hadn't experienced with aunts before. My mom also marveled at The Aunts' talent for cross-conversation. She even saw younger Cousins doing it. It didn't take long before my mom was doing it, too-- at least, in an honorable way for someone without the inherited trait ;) .
Finally. My mom found home. Her people.
She was 21. And a couple of years later, she married my dad and became one of "The Cousins." But then again, the night she drank their coffee, she became one of the cousins. The wedding was just a formality.
"Happiness Is Coffee Shared with a Friend" (Unknown)
My Booster this week, in a far more muted way than in the last 15+ weeks of the newsletter, is this:
Find what connects you with others. Find what binds you with others. Then be like The Aunts and put some time and attention toward it. Get the good feelings going, recall funny things and tell some stories to others. Learn the ways of connection.
Coffee or tea is a good start, but so is music or a hobby: photography, reading with people (have you ever done that? you meet somewhere and both open your book and read separately but together? try it...)
"But do you like him?" (Moonstruck, 1987)
And because I can't veer away TOO FAR from business stuff...
When the movie Moonstruck came out, my family and I saw it multiple times in the movie theater (which was unheard of back then), then rented it once it got on video, then eventually bought it.
It was one of the truest and most realistic depictions of an Italian-American family that we had ever seen-- at least, of OUR Italian-American family. If you haven't seen it, please consider: it's aged well, the writing is fantastic, and the casting is top-notch.
There is a scene toward the beginning where Cher's character, Loretta, who is a widow, tells her mom she's getting married again. Her mom, played by Olympia Dukakis, asks, "Do you love him, Loretta?"
Loretta replies, "No," and her mother gives a sigh of relief.
"Good, when you love 'em, they'll drive you crazy-- 'cuz they know they can. But do you like him?"
In focusing on connections this week, I want to remind all of us, myself, too, that the first step to making a connection is to simply like someone-- not in a romantic way, I mean in a general human-type way. In a way where you want to have fun, talk, spend some time... connecting.
Here's my question: if you are currently employed, do you connect with your boss on a human level? Meaning: do you share concerns, work through problems, talk about your aspirations, discuss different ways you can work, consider areas to focus on new learning? Do you ask about how you can support YOUR boss's development or aspirations or challenges?
Or are you just sharing a quick status so you can get on with your day?
(and for those who know me, you know my loooooooooong list of bad bosses behind me, so I completely understand if your response to this idea is, "ew, bluck-- no thank you, (shiver).")
If not your boss, is there someone else at work to connect with on a regular basis?
Perhaps with... coffee?
(you know what to do if you have a business challenge or workplace issue... Ask Christa! )
See you next week!!!
With kindness,
Christa
(Helpful? Interesting? Please forward and ask others to subscribe! https://www.askchrista.com/newsletter/)
PS: My late dad's name was Cosmo... the dad's name in Moonstruck. In today's high-speed crazy-ness, look for the connections...
