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How to Build Community: Start by Paying Attention
A man I barely knew bought me an ice cream sandwich.
He didn't ask if I wanted one.
He just went to the ice cream truck and came back with one for me.
"Oh, thanks," I said. "Do you mind if I give this to my daughter?"
"Not at all."
And off it went to Valentina.
It was an ice cream sandwich.
Maybe four bucks.
And I haven't stopped thinking about it.
It Started With Donuts
This happened at one of Gio's Renegades baseball games.
We were new to the team. New parents, new kids, a lot of weekends together ahead of us.
I've always thought that if you're going to spend that much time with people, why not try to become friends?
So we brought Texas Donuts.
Nothing elaborate. We just showed up and started handing them out.
Later, one of the dads came over.
"You're Gio's dad?"
Yep.
"And you gave me a donut."
Yep.
Then he said something I'll probably remember for a long time.
"Your family exudes excellence."
I laughed.
"No," he said. "I really mean it."
Sometime later, the ice cream truck showed up.
That same dad went over and came back with an ice cream sandwich for me.
Donut.
Ice cream sandwich.
Nobody was keeping score.
But something was happening.
The Baseball Pants
This week, Chagi was talking with another baseball mom, Brianne.
If you've ever had a kid who plays baseball in white pants, you know where this is going.
Gio slides.
A lot.
Which means he routinely comes home wearing approximately half the baseball field.
Chagi had mentioned what a pain in the ass it is trying to get those pants white again.
Just one mom complaining to another about one of the thousand ridiculous little things that come with having kids.
Brianne remembered.
Later, she brought Chagi something to help with the pants.
Not because Chagi asked.
Because Brianne had been paying attention.
Then Chagi Made Banana Bread
Another mom on the team, Megan, has a tree-nut allergy.
Chagi likes to bake.
So she made banana bread and made sure it was nut-free so Megan could eat it.
Again, nobody asked.
She simply remembered something about another person and acted on it.
Dirty baseball pants.
Banana bread.
Donuts.
An ice cream sandwich.
This is how you build community.
A Simple Way to Build Community
If you want to build community, start by paying attention.
We tend to make community sound complicated.
Finding your people. Joining groups. Building relationships.
Maybe the mechanics are simpler.
Remember what people tell you.
Then occasionally do something with that information.
Bring the donuts.
Remember the allergy.
Help with the baseball pants.
Learn someone's kid's name.
Ask how the thing they told you about last week turned out.
Buy the ice cream sandwich.
And don't keep score.
I didn't bring donuts because I wanted an ice cream sandwich.
Brianne wasn't expecting anything for helping Chagi.
Chagi didn't make banana bread because Megan now owes her something.
That's not community.
That's accounting.
You give because you can.
Then sometimes somebody else gives.
And the circle gets a little tighter.
Somebody Thought About You
That's what all these little gestures have in common.
The thing itself barely matters.
A donut isn't important.
Neither is an ice cream sandwich.
What matters is the message underneath:
I thought about you.
You weren't there. You didn't ask. Somebody was simply moving through their day, thought about you, and did something about it.
Maybe that's why tiny gestures can feel so much bigger than they should.
They're evidence that we exist in somebody else's world.
When we joined this baseball team, I wasn't wondering whether we'd fit in.
I was wondering how we could turn a bunch of parents sitting beside the same baseball field into people who knew each other.
How do we connect?
How do we become friends?
I'm starting to think this is how.
Not all at once.
One conversation.
One remembered detail.
One donut.
One loaf of banana bread.
One ice cream sandwich at a time.
You don't find community. You build it by remembering the little things.
“Know what’s enough. Build what matters.”
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