What Kills Our Conversations—and How to Bring Them to Life? Case 1: Imagine a cake‑bearing stranger at your door
- cwang2384
- Jan 12
- 5 min read
Following the pandemic's isolation and the embrace of a new age of digital life, the world has changed in ways we hardly recognize. When increased screen time reduces face-to-face interactions and shortens attention spans, and when a deeper social chasm breeds disinterest or distrust in others, the outcome is diminished in-person communication and amplified self-obsession and isolation. This can create a vicious cycle, leading to more loneliness until, one day, it completely stifles our natural ability to engage with one another, even with those who used to be close friends.
The U.S. Surgeon General has warned that loneliness has reached epidemic levels, further exacerbated by the growing use of AI in our everyday lives to write, think, and communicate on our behalf, potentially rendering human-to-human interactions obsolete and implying that we may lose one fundamental trait that defines us as humans.
The phenomena are both challenging and puzzling:
1. As humans, we are inherently social creatures, yet we now struggle to form meaningful social connections. Our species, Homo sapiens, has relied on social interactions for survival since the beginning of time and has evolved to thrive to this day. So, how hard is it to just be who we are?
2. Numerous self-help resources attempt to address this issue by mapping out in-person conversations from beginning to end as a strategy to improve our "social fitness" and make us happier. However, they often overcomplicate the issue as a psychological matter, potentially making this inherent competency – human interactions – feel foreign and thus more complex and confounding than it should be.
3. The truth is that no two individuals are the same, meaning no two conversations are alike, but natural and extemporaneous daily occurrences. Starting from the initial words (which should not be guided by any formulas) that kick off a dialog, the conversation can unfold in ways beyond imagination, free from any predetermined formulas. Does that suggest that going back to the basics should be the only way to do it?
In this article, for example, “This is the No. 1 way to be happier, an expert says—and it’ll only take you 15 minutes,” Lyubomirsky says, is to have a conversation with someone, be it your mom, your roommate, or even your mailman. Yet, no practical examples are provided.
One encouraging fact is that everyone still needs to interact with other (real) humans daily for things like getting a haircut, seeing a physician, going to a store or a restaurant, attending your kids' school events, or simply greeting your neighbor. Therefore, striking up a conversation is never a concern (someone must say something first, and it makes no difference who initiates it), but carrying it on could be. The deciding factor lies in our approach: whether to use minimal words and no eye contact, or to show full interest and compassion.
If you believe, as I do, that in-person interactions can lift our moods and enrich our lives, all we need are warm feelings and genuine curiosity about others. Our instincts will do all the work for us -- our expressive eyes will always give away an unmistakable signal about our intent, and from there, the conversation can go in directions beyond what is imaginable.
In this blog series (I intend to recount real-life experiences, one or two in each post ), I will share many seemingly ‘random,’ ‘accidental,’ yet invigorating human interactions — including when, where, how, what, and with whom each occurred — to highlight one common theme: human connections are not hindered by ancient history, current politics, or racial prejudice, but are compelled by people’s approachability, eagerness to share personal stories, and, most of all, our natural ability to engage socially.
Here is the thing. We don't need to interact with social elites or celebrities, as high-profile journalists often do. Still, the rewards and ramifications can be even more meaningful — individually and socially — once human interactions have become ingrained in our lives.
Case 1: Imagine a cake‑bearing stranger at your door
That was how it happened to me three days after I moved into my apartment on the Notre Dame campus in August 2022 to begin my one-year fellowship at the university.
While I was arranging furniture in the new apartment, I heard a knock at my door — a rare occurrence nowadays. I opened the door and saw a smiling East Asian girl and a shy-looking Indian man holding a tray with six banana-nut cakes. The cakes exuded a yeasty aroma as they had just come out of the oven.
“Wow!” I said, looking at the cakes and the two strangers’ pleasant appearances.
“Hi, we are from the third floor on the left,” the girl chirped. “My name is Hui, and his name is Siva. We want to meet some new neighbors.”
“I’m the lucky new neighbor today!” I responded joyfully. Starting my one-year life in South Bend, I didn’t know anyone personally. There was nothing more exciting to me than getting to know someone like this. We chatted a bit. “Let’s get together one day,” I said, noticing they had five more cakes to share with other neighbors.
“Yes.” They nodded in unison.
A month later, Hui brought another new friend, Jinan, when we met over Siva’s homemade Indian food at the Duncan Student Center of the University. Hui said she was born and raised in Malaysia and worked in Singapore, where she met Siva. Jinan came from Lebanon to teach Arabic. Everyone was eager to tell stories about their families, careers, traditions, and new experiences in Notre Dame. Before we knew it, two and a half hours had passed, and we all had to go.
After that anything-but-random lunch, I texted, “Sitting together, we look and feel like a rainbow!”
One comment from Hui reverberated in my mind. “I knocked on five doors after yours, and you were the only one excited to see us,” she said with surprise. “Others looked puzzled and gave excuses not to take the cakes.” I wonder how most people grapple with modern-day isolation and loneliness. Most blame social media. Might some of the causes come from within themselves, too?
After my fellowship ended in May 2023, Hui and I have kept in touch via text, mostly about where we were and what we were up to. One day, she texted me: “Hello Cheng! I came across your article in Notre Dame Magazine today, "Neither Here nor There." I showed it to Siva, and we are both proud to have your acquaintance! We will get together, and who knows, either you come to Singapore, or maybe we come to visit you in NC someday!”
“Yes, we will meet again, either here or there!” I replied, then asked her, “How do you become so warm toward people, any people?”
“I have my MA to thank for this. She is the most welcoming person that everyone would love. She enchanted the little ones easily: the “Pied Piper” for children!”
“I love the description of ‘Pied Piper’ about your mom. I can feel some of that from you.” I texted back.”
“My Ma would definitely be happy to know your thoughts, Cheng! I lost her in 2018, a year after my Pa passed away. It was a big blow to my small and close-knit family of 4, as my brother and I went through 2 funerals within a short time…”
We could do this – and we have done it over text – many times. But the image of her warmhearted smile and words, in stark contrast to her family tragedy, is deeply ingrained in me. I cherish knowing – by accident – such a flesh-and-blood human with so many stories to share and look forward to our next meeting someday.
An afterthought: What would you do if someone showed up at your door with a welcome cake and a heart-melting smile?
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