May, 2024
The Art of Conversation
Dear Neighbor,
Sometimes I daydream about starting a school if I were ever to retire from Welcome Neighbor, which would be after I launch my writing career, my watercolor painting career, and when I am on my ninth life. I would call my school The Art of Conversation. When I was a (shy) little girl, my mother was a saleswoman. I spent much of my young life waiting for her to finish a conversation—sitting in the car, on a phone call, at the beach—wherever we were, she was always talking to someone. By example she taught her children to start conversations. I would often see her respond to someone by uttering, “Fascinating.” Once she told me that when she said that, to herself she was saying, “hogwash.” She was so practiced in the art that the person would leave the conversation saying to themselves, “That was one of the most fascinating women I’ve ever met.”
What my mother was really good at was listening--which is why people found her so fascinating. She taught me this: “If something or someone doesn’t interest you, dig into it/them deeper. You’ll always find something interesting there.” She seemed to know everyone, everywhere we went, because she was memorable. She could start a conversation with anyone!
My conversation school would include classes in elocution and enunciation, active listening, overcoming Vocal Fry, Valley Girl, Influencer and other trite speech patterns (look them up) like saying “no problem”, how to start conversations with strangers, eye contact and body language, civil debate guidelines (so needed, thanks to social media rants), sparkling cocktail party starters, how to be memorable, and how to seem wise.
The more time we spend with our devices, the less skilled we become at conversing; so we need this school to start NOW. I probably won’t be starting the school, so if someone wants to get things rolling, I will raise my hand to be a substitute teacher if I have a free day. Meanwhile, Welcome Neighbor is just plain hard to quit. Too many interesting conversations!
Your Neighbor, Anne Pounds
The Art of Conversation
Dear Neighbor,
Sometimes I daydream about starting a school if I were ever to retire from Welcome Neighbor, which would be after I launch my writing career, my watercolor painting career, and when I am on my ninth life. I would call my school The Art of Conversation. When I was a (shy) little girl, my mother was a saleswoman. I spent much of my young life waiting for her to finish a conversation—sitting in the car, on a phone call, at the beach—wherever we were, she was always talking to someone. By example she taught her children to start conversations. I would often see her respond to someone by uttering, “Fascinating.” Once she told me that when she said that, to herself she was saying, “hogwash.” She was so practiced in the art that the person would leave the conversation saying to themselves, “That was one of the most fascinating women I’ve ever met.”
What my mother was really good at was listening--which is why people found her so fascinating. She taught me this: “If something or someone doesn’t interest you, dig into it/them deeper. You’ll always find something interesting there.” She seemed to know everyone, everywhere we went, because she was memorable. She could start a conversation with anyone!
My conversation school would include classes in elocution and enunciation, active listening, overcoming Vocal Fry, Valley Girl, Influencer and other trite speech patterns (look them up) like saying “no problem”, how to start conversations with strangers, eye contact and body language, civil debate guidelines (so needed, thanks to social media rants), sparkling cocktail party starters, how to be memorable, and how to seem wise.
The more time we spend with our devices, the less skilled we become at conversing; so we need this school to start NOW. I probably won’t be starting the school, so if someone wants to get things rolling, I will raise my hand to be a substitute teacher if I have a free day. Meanwhile, Welcome Neighbor is just plain hard to quit. Too many interesting conversations!
Your Neighbor, Anne Pounds