A new report by Susannah Fox, released today by the Pew Internet Project in collaboration with the California Health Care Foundation, “The Social Life of Health Information, 2010,” found that 59% of American adults look on line for health information.   A smaller percentage — 34% of internet users, or 25% of adults –  have read someone else’s commentary or experience about health or medical issues on an online news group, website, or blog.

Health-related social ties generally fall into the realm of consequential strangers: doctors and other medical personnel, patients, and caregivers who are enlisted as part of the sufferer’s social convoy–the entourage of people who travel through the experience with him or her.    Although our social convoys of course include our intimates, they might not be in the best position to help us.  They’re traumatized, too.  Also, they usually don’t have a map of the territory.

While the vast majority of our illness-associated connections offer actual hand-holding and face-to-face sharing, the Internet allows use to forge these kinds of ties  online as well.  As Pew concludes:

The social life of health information is robust. The online conversation about health is being driven forward by two forces: 1) the availability of social tools and 2) the motivation, especially among people living with chronic conditions, to connect with each other.

We are honored that the Pew report quoted Consequential Strangers (see page 7 of the PDF, or this online link): “If people who are already on board don’t have the information, experience, or empathy you need, you enlist others who do.” (from Chapter 4, Good for What Ails Us)

In a pattern that matches this observation, people living with one or more chronic conditions and those living with disability are significantly more likely than other social network site users to gather health information on these sites.

The problem is, that people you “meet” on the Internet are total strangers.  Unlike striking up a conversation in a doctor’s waiting room or meeting at a support group,  it’s a little trickier to go from stranger to consequential stranger with someone you can’t see. Some common-sense guidelines can help:

• Proceed slowly with any online relationship.   Some people prefer to have Internet “conversations” anonymously until they are certain that the other person is legit.
• Offer your own information sparingly, don’t divulge anything personal that might be used to track you down.
• Never base treatment decisions or methods of care solely on information from the Internet.
• Before you allow an online relationship to migrate off line, suggest a video chat. And if you do decide to see each other IRL (in real life), make sure that your first meeting–to be safe, first several meetings–take place in a public venue.
• Remember that even sites sponsored by major health groups don’t usually screen their members. Just because someone says she has cancer, for example, doesn’t mean she actually does.  She might suffer from Munchausen’s-by-Internet–a condition in which someone fakes symptoms to garner attention online.   Dr. Marc D. Feldman, an expert in “factitious” conditions who first identified the Internet version, admits that while there are clues that someone has MIB, even he has been fooled.

In the last chapter of Consequential Strangers, I included a personal story about meeting some of the survivors of Hurricane Katrina, among them, Violet Simmons (not her real name–hence, no photo), a single mother whose New Orleans home was under water.  Violet, who had fled west across the state until she ran out of gas, was then living in one motel room with her eight children.  I’ve since stayed in touch with her.

Five and half years later, Violet’s youngest child, a toddler then, is now in second grade; her oldest is the mother of three.  As it turns out, Katrina wasn’t Violet’s worst enemy; poverty was–and is.  Katrina just complicated matters.For example, last year Violet took out a $1000 loan–from an easy-loan company that specializes in low-income customers:  “Only $99.99 a month for a thousand dollars.”  The catch is, that’s only interest.  Violet has already paid around $1200–but still owes the $1000 she borrowed against her car.

Making matters worse, Violet was more than ten days late this month, which allowed the company to tack on a penalty fee.   Yesterday, she was informed that if she didn’t come up with $119.29 by closing time, the loan company would not only repossess her car, they’d levy additional fees.

I paid her debt, but it’s just a bandaid.  So I made a deal with Violet:  If she would continue to pay the $99.99 interest, and I’d pay additional money each month towards her principle.

When I got off the phone, I thought to myself, maybe some of the people I know–from good friends to consequential strangers whom I know mainly on line–might be willing to help Violet, too.  Almost everyone has a spare $10 or 20 laying around.

So here I am, posting this plea on my own websites, sending it by email, and “publishing” it on Facebook.

If only 100 of you send me $10, we can pay off the loan by February 17, when her next payment is due.

If I receive more than $1000, I will put the extra money toward Violet’s electric bill, which is nearly $200 a month, and other recurring expenses.

You might wonder, “Why isn’t Violet getting a job, so she can take care of herself?”  As one friend put it, “Aren’t you enabling her?”   The fact is, Violet is trying.  She sought help at the local community agency, filled out applications at McDonald’s and Walmart.   But if former execs and MBAs are having trouble finding work, imagine how tough it is to be a single mother with a G.E.D.   I see this not as enabling but as a way of helping Violet get out from under.

The cutoff date is February 15.   Please act quickly and give whatever you can.   Mail checks to Melinda Blau, 301 174th Street, Apt 1219, Sunny Isles Beach, FL 33160.   Write Donation for “Violet” in the memo.   Even better, send cash.

BULLETIN! Two very helpful CS of mine suggested that I get a Pay Pal account and offer this better option–an online donation

Oh, and BTW, feel free to share this message with your friends and their friends.  Thanks!

The list is probably long and definitely personal: the coworker who made you look good at the sales meeting, the clergyman who listened to something you couldn’t share with others, the butcher who supplied the  turkey and patiently explained how to cook it, the guy at the newsstand who always has a smile and a kind word, the neighbor who suggested a better way to heat your house, the doctor who helped you beat cancer and the gym-goer who gave you that doctor’s name in the first place.  Some are barely more than strangers, but they all deserve your gratitude as well.

Here are four reasons (not necessarily in order of importance) to put casual relations–outsiders– on your gratitude list and mention them in your prayers of thanksgiving:

1. They allow you to expand your identity. Each relationship thrusts us into a different and unique role and is a mirror in which we can catch a different glimpse of ourselves.  When a casual acquaintance laughs at your joke–one your spouse has heard scores of times–it helps you feel like a “person who’s funny.”  Interactions with a trainee assure you that you’re “smart,” while those with a  teacher transform you into “someone who perseveres.”  We are less versatile, less imaginative, and less capable of change when have only close relationships.  Thankfully, most of us don’t.

2. They can remind you how to treat your loved ones. One of the great paradoxes of consequential stranger relationships is that we’re sometimes nicer to near strangers and are certainly less likely to take them for granted than we are with intimates.  We are excessively grateful when they do something nice or help out, because we don’t expect it.  So as you look around your Thanksgiving table this year, try to see the people close to you in a different light. Be as polite to your mother as you are to the shopkeeper you’ve known for many years.  Listen as attentively to Uncle Bob as you do when you’re at lunch with a colleague.  Act as appreciative of your spouse’s suggestions as you do when you secretary says, “Hey, I have an idea.”

3. They bring diversity into your life, which confers a wealth of other benefits and possibilities.  Family and close friends tend to know what you know, whereas CS are from different worlds. Thank them for exposing you to new ideas and opportunities.  This year, I plan to write an email of appreciation to people I recently met in Paris–now a part-time residence.  Meeting them changed my view of the city and made it feel like “home.” They helped me understand the culture, told me about cultural offerings, and made me altogether savvier about living there.  I’m grateful that they’ll be there when I return in the spring.

4. The wider your circle of gratitude, the better you will feel.  Gratitude acts like connective glue in close relationships, or as the authors of one study put it, “ a booster shot for the relationship.”  But why restrict your appreciation to intimates? Other research shows that gratitude makes work relationships better, too.  Most important, it bodes well for your health. Bottom line: expressing thanks can improve all your connections–and make you feel better in the bargain.   A win-win for the holidays.

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

A recent call from a old collaborator reminded me of the importance of “psychic sharing.” Often, when we think of sharing, it’s around something material and measurable, like saving money. There’s nothing wrong with that, but there are also undeniable benefits to shouldering a burden, a problem, or, in the case of my phone call, a creative endeavor. The end product, be it a fresh solution or groundbreaking idea, is never what you thought it would be. It turns out to be something neither of you could have imagined, or executed, alone–something better, because two minds trump one.

In the past, I’d written three books with this man. Our respective roles were typical of 20th century collaborations: he the expert, and I the writer. I was his “with.” Now he wanted something different: to write a book together, as equals.

His personal reasons aside, psychic sharing is in the zeitgeist. And why not? The Internet has made it easier to share ideas and, equally important, economic pressures are causing many professionals to reexamine old assumptions about career, income, and credit. Given a good partnership (more on that below), it’s easier and certainly more fun to share the process from idea to execution. In short, psychic sharing lightens the burden.

Of course, not all collaborations go smoothly. I’ve been there, too. But I’ve also picked up some tips and warnings signs along the way:

Collaborate with a consequential stranger, not a loved one. Your loved ones might lay down their lives for you, bu they often lack the connections, objectivity, and know-how that will inspire  your mind to soar beyond the confines of the familiar. In fact, researchers have found that people who reach out for information and advice from people in other divisions, other companies, even other industries are more successful than those who stay in their own “silos.” You might become good friends one day (or not)–arguably, psychic sharing may be the best way to launch a more intimate relationship. But it’s better not to start out that way.

Chose someone who is different from you. You may have a shared interest or a common cause with your collaborator but have completely different orientations and backgrounds. In The Difference: How the Power of Diversity Creates Better Groups, Firms, Schools and Societies, Scott Page, a professor of complex systems, writes about InnoCentive.com–a website where a “seeker” poses a complex scientific problem and members of the Global Solvers Network offer solutions. When “solvers” from multiple scientific disciplines tackle a problem, they are more likely to come up with an answer than if, say, only chemists put forth their ideas.

Redefine “equal” in terms of respect. Equality is not about degrees, titles, or previous successes. A good partnership is as much dependent on experience, observations, and street smarts as it is on expertise. You may be younger and less credentialed, and lack the traditional trappings of “success,” but it’s a question of what resources you bring to the table, not how you got there. If you think, or feel, that you’re superior or inferior, it’s harder to be a true partner. And if you don’t respect the other person or vice-versa, the partnership is probably doomed.

Let go of control, ownership, and credit. Craig Wynett, the man who conceived of Corporate New Ventures, an idea factory within Procter and Gamble (which I wrote about in Chapter 2 of the book), believes that innovation happens when “you don’t care who gets credit.” The Swiffer mop, known in-house as a “diaper (or maxi-pad) on a stick,” was the result of sharing–in and outside the company.  Divisions that normally didn’t collaborate–scientists who worked with hard-surface solutions and those who developed non-woven materials–combined forces with marketing and advertising people, as well as consumers. The good news, Wynett maintains, is that no one quite remembers who did what.

Find ways to share that suit both of you. Logistics, familiarity with technology, personal style: all these and more can affect partners’ comfort level in a work collaboration (or a marriage for that matter). Some people prefer speaking their ideas, while others like to ponder and write.  I once had a collaborator with whom I had to tone down my New York fast talk in our “discussions,” which felt like arguments to her. Finding common ground can be hard, but try to split your differences–have some work sessions in a mode that makes your partner comfortable. Most important, remember that “your” way isn’t necessarily better; it’s just familiar.

Relish the experience, not just the product. We’re hard-wired to collaborate and share. When  we’re with someone who stimulates our mental juices or helps us see an old picture through new eyes, it’s exhilarating and productive.  It’s what Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi refers to as a “flow” experience. You’re engaged and absorbed, and the rest of the world disappears for that moment. Flow can happen alone, but when it happens with someone, it’s magical.

As is true of most consequential stranger relationships, Reggie and I couldn’t be more different. He’s Sikh and a successful businessman who recently cashed out his share of a chain of 7-11′s on Long Island. I am a Jew, a writer, foodie–and his patron. We both love Fire Island, although we know it from different vantage points. We hug at the beginning of the season when we first see each other and when I leave. Most years, before I arrive, I email him to remind him to get “my” milk. If I don’t, his first words are usually, “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”

I know I can count on Reggie, and I think he feels the same way about me–why else would I go out of my way to put a good word in for him with a guy in another Fire Island town whose grocery store Reggie would like to buy?  Truth be told, I didn’t do it just for Reggie. Thirty years ago, I lived in that town with my (then) husband; my kids grew up there.  Now my grandchildren are spending time there, and I liked the idea of my daughter connecting with Reggie, too.

This is the kind of guy Reggie is: When I forget to bring printer paper to the island and ask if he sells it, he disappears into the back and returns with an unopened ream of paper. Before I even get a chance to ask the price he says, “Use what you need, and return whatever’s left when you leave.”

A few days later, when the freezer breaks down in the house I’ve rented for the last several years, I call and he doesn’t hesitate when ask if I can put some meat and frozen food–into his walk-in freezer until it’s fixed. He knows I’m referring to groceries bought off island, not from him. Even as I offter to pay, explaining that it would be like the “cork fee” restaurants charge when you bring your own bottle, I know that Reggie wouldn’t dream of taking it.  Sure, I spend plenty of money in the store–I want him to stay in business–but when Reggie tells me, “You know I’d do anything for you,” I don’t think it’s about the tab I run up every summer.

I love Reggie, in the manner of love reserved for certain consequential strangers. He’s an anchor for me in this town. And in small increments we keep getting “closer”–a word I don’t like to use to describe relationships, because it sets up a false dichotomy–you’re either close with someone or not. That doesn’t begin to capture the complexity of our social lives. I suggest, instead, the word meaningful. Relationships have different magnitudes of meaning, defined, in part, by disclosure. Each little tidbit of knowing about the other person makes the relationship more meaningful.

Today, as I was on my way out of the store–this now a few days after I met Minnie, Reggie’s wife–Reggie said to me off-handedly, “Hey, you missed my daughter. She was in yesterday.”

“How old is she?” I ask, hoping he hadn’t told me before. Sometimes when I ask a person a question, it’ more about the engagement of the moment, and I forget to pay attention to the answer. For example, I think I once asked Reg where’s he’s from–India or Pakistan–and I think he said “India,” and maybe even told me the city, but I don’t know for sure.  And now, how can I ask? But that’s another story.

“Eleven,” he said, and I tried to imagine the eleven-year-old daughter of Minnie and Reggie.

“I’m so sorry I missed her,” I said, meaning it. “I’ll make sure I bring my daughter in to meet you.” Then, I hesitated, and added, “Or did you meet her last time she was here?”

“No,” said Reg, putting my memory to shame. “Just your son.”

As long as I keep coming to Fire Island, Reggie and I will have a relationship. It is of this place only, but it is important to me. We may get to know more about each other in the coming seasons, but we probably we always remain the best of consequential strangers.

***

Note: Readers and interviewers frequently ask, “How do you know whether a person is a consequential stranger or a friend?” I’m with Supreme Court Justice Potter on this one. He was referring to pornography, but you could just as easily substitute the word “friend” here: “I know it when I see it.” If you’re in doubt, apply this unabashedly unscientific test to a relationship you’re not sure about.

And by the way, it doesn’t matter what you call someone as long as you honor the relationship, no matter how minor a role that person plays in the drama of your life.

When economics define hard times, it’s important to remind ourselves to take pleasure in the non-material reward of connecting with others.  It doesn’t pay the bills, but it can help alleviate the stress. And stress, as we all know, makes us more susceptible to illnesses, which then makes a bad situation worse.  Researchers put the risks associated with social isolation right up there with smoking and obesity.

In fact, when you have no job–or, for that matter, when social circumstances change for any reason (divorce, a move)–the loss of people is arguably more of a threat to your well-being than the loss of income.  A man I know, whose factory had massive layoffs, told me that what he missed about work most was the social contact.  In the lunchroom, he’d talk with his buddies about the news, his hobbies, and have the kinds of conversations he’d never have at home. “I could say anything to the guys, and they’d understand.”

We all need the kind of social stimulation that comes from coworkers and other types of consequential strangers.  Especially when we’re in a tough transition, the people closest to us are often as shell-shocked and worried as we are.  They also think the way we think and have many of the same influences.  In contrast, through everyday exchanges with people who cross our paths during our routine comings and goings, we are exposed to new ideas and experiences that can lead to opportunities or a better understanding.  Take the artist. Maybe one of her patrons will have a great creative suggestion or a connection that might lead to another source of income.   And when she mentions that her boiler keeps breaking down, another might know of a good plumber who might be willing to barter.

And it’s not just about opportunity.  To insulate ourselves, to escape every now and then, we also have to do something that brings us pleasure and makes us smile–ideally, something done with someone else: A game of gin rummy with a neighbor, a schmoozing session with other mothers at the park, an online chat with the guy who sat behind you in English class in high school.  A little novelty here, bursts of spontaneous laughter there–in each case, moments of connection that make the day go better.

How do you do it?  Everyone’s life is different, but here are some rules of thumb:

Review your new daily routine–and take a second look at the people you encounter. You’ve “lost” all the consequential strangers you encountered on your commute and at your place of business. Ask yourself, who can I connect with now?  Maybe you linger longer at the dog park or have more time to interact with neighbors.  Are there any people with whom you have a “nodding acquaintance” who might be worth getting to know?

Frequent a “being space.” A favorite coffee shop or tavern, a bowling alley, a barber shop, the town square if you’re lucky enough to live in a place that has one–any one of these can be a “being space,” a warm, safe, welcoming environment where strangers often become consequential strangers.  It’s not enough just to go there, though.  Engage!

Push yourself–it’s good “medicine.” If you’re shy–or depressed–take baby steps.  Introduce yourself to the waitress, bartender, the guy or gal behind the counter, or a fellow patron.  Make small talk: You see someone wearing a baseball cap with your favorite team’s logo: “Hey, I’m a Mets fan, too.”  Or maybe a gadget catches your eye: “I’ve been thinking of getting a Kindle. How do you like it?”

Let people know what you need. Sociologists and marketing experts have found that people share information and ideas mostly because of “felt need.”  People who knew of openings in their company were more likely to talk about it when they knew that someone was in the market for a job.  Similarly, when it comes to recommending products or services, acquaintances tend to suggest an accountant at tax time or a travel website when they know you’re planning a trip.

Use technology. Pick up the phone and renew old acquaintances.  Go online and forge new connections around areas of interest or common causes that you haven’t yet pursued because you never had the time.  Ideally, some of those tech-instigated conversations will develop into off line relationships.  At the very least, they might become great sources of inspiration and entertainment–and can help you feel less alone.

Note: This post was published simultaneously at Psychology Today and Shareable

The antidote for loneliness is to connect with consequential strangers.  Having a “tribe,” John told me when I interviewed him for the book, is the flip side of social isolation.  All of us experience loneliness at times, but it is most dramatic–and we are most vulnerable–during major life transitions when a dependable “circle of support” is disrupted. In this film, for example, the woman lost her CS at work when she had a baby.

It happened to me, too, when I moved from New York City to Northampton, MA.  Gone were merchants I dealt with, doctors, my hair dresser, people I’d chat with for a few minutes when our paths crossed.  I didn’t realize how valuable those brief encounters were until I no longer had them.

I’ve heard similar stories from people who have been laid off.  They miss the everyday banter that they once took for granted.  And it’s hard to regain a sense of equilibrium.    In “What I Lost When I Lost My Job,” Dominique Browning, former editor of House & Garden, puts it this way: “With the closing of the magazine, my beloved family of colleagues was obliterated. And so was the structure of my life.”

In order to feel “at home” in new circumstances–whatever they are–we may need to recruit new CS.   To be sure, if one is shy or socially awkward, striking up a conversation with anyone can be difficult, but less so with someone you barely know.  There’s no baggage from the past–only the present moment.  It’s a good place to start.  For example, the woman this video ultimately connected with other isolated mothers.  She didn’t need to become best friends with them; knowing that they experienced similar feelings made her less ashamed of her own.

If you need a little help reaching out to people, check out “21 Ways to Make Meaningful Connections,” an article I contributed to Beliefnet.

So here I am again, now with two blogs–Consequential Strangers and MotherU–each representing a totally different part of my life.   I’ll funnel some ideas into in one blog, some in the other, and with others, such this one, I’ll be “bipostal,” contributing to both sites.   I’ll express my thoughts and hope that they resonate somewhere in the Universe, share my expertise and hope that it helps.  But I’ve let go of the expectation.

I’m not the only bi-postal blogger out there, according to some recent stats on blogging.  Approximately half of us are working on at least our second blog, and 68% have been blogging for two years or more.  To paraphrase Oscar Wilde’s famous quote about second marriages, “Second blogs are the triumph of hope over experience.”

This blog, Consequential Strangers, grew out of three years of writing and research on the book of the same name.  It features real-life examples from the news and further explanation of concepts in the book, as well as my own ruminations on various aspects of one’s larger social life.  It satisfies my sociological/psychological self. I’ve focused on relationships for decades now, written about all sorts–parent and child, couples, siblings, extended family.  But this book took me beyond connections involving intimates.  The blog enabled me–for the first time in my writing career–to continue to explore a subject even after the book came out, something a traditional book doesn’t allow.  Admittedly, it was also a marketing tool–what book today is not launched withouth a blog?  But I’ve since realized that while a blog may pique readers’ interest, it doesn’t necessarily lead them to a book store.   So Consequential Strangers has become a place where I throw out ideas about relationships. I hope someone is listening.

My more recent blog, MotherU, is the resurrection of a website my daughter created nearly seven years ago.  For nearly a year I’d toyed with the idea of doing it. Then suddenly I had to get it up there, reincarnated as a blog, and it almost felt like it was the site’s idea, not mine.  Its focus is the mother/daughter relationship when the mother becomes a grandmother and the daughter a mother and both are members of the “motherhood union.”  Only a week old at this writing, MotherU represents a fundamental piece of who I am — the mother of a grown daughter and, to my amazement, a grandmother (not a term I accepted gracefully!).  I have always found stories and theories about mother/daughter relationships particularly interesting–the inspiration for 1001 posts.  But also, I believe there is a need for this conversation between mothers and their adult daughters.  So I plan to throw out some ideas, and we’ll see what happens….

Two blogs, two audiences, no expectations.  With an estimated 133 billion people writing blogs, and “only” 346 billion readers to go around, how can anyone have expectations?  I guess I will base my “success” on the criterion that 70% of bloggers use: my own personal satisfaction.  Believe me about that, because I’m also among the 75% that describe themselves as “sincere,” not the 16% who describe themselves as “snarky”!

It was beyond the scope of the book to investigate relational differences in other countries, but many social scientists have looked at both “emotional norms”  in different cultures  and at the degree to which we see ourselves as  independent or interdependent.  It’s a complex equation, but culture impacts both personality traits and our everyday decisions.

Geert Hofstede, who looks at five “cultural dimensions,” finds that the U.S. ranks first in “individualism,” scoring 91 on the scale.  (The six runners-up are Australia (90), United Kingdom (89), Netherlands and Canada (80), and Italy (76).  In contrast, Taiwan scores 12, putting it fairly close to the “collectivist” end of the continuum.  Such cultures feature “strong, cohesive in-groups, often extended families (with uncles, aunts and grandparents) which continue protecting them in exchange for unquestioning loyalty.”

Out of curiosity, I also checked out where Hofstede ranked Ghana.  I interviewed and wrote about social scientist Eva Schiffer’s net-mapping work with a water management board in Bolgatanga, Ghana.  Ghana is part of  West Africa, which scores 16, putting it in the same league with countries grouped together as “Asia” (20).  And yet, Ghana’s collectivist leanings make its people no less hospitable to strangers, according to Schiffer.  Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 2:

Ghanaians have no word for “consequential strangers,” she says, but having a broad network of affiliations is crucial for survival.  “I expected that it would be all about family but it was very easy for me as a stranger to develop something similar to family.”   The man who helped her find a house in Bolgatanga and get a telephone in two months instead of nine became her “uncles.”  Others are now her “brothers” and “sisters

If collectivist Ghana values consequential strangers, why not Taiwan?   And why not the U.K. or Canada?  Indeed, it makes sense that regardless of where a country stands on the   independence/interdependence continuum, the need to connect with others is so basic and universal that it cuts across ideologies and cultures.  In Ghana and Taiwan they are accustomed to, and know the benefits of, working in concert with one another.  Even though Schiffer was a stranger, they welcomed her into the fold.  And although in the U.S., our networks may be more individualized and loose-knit than in other countries, anyone who’s successful knows that to achieve anything, you can’t do it alone.   As the old African proverb goes:

If you want to go fast, go alone.  If you want to go far, go together.

(Stay tuned, folks:  I’m off to Paris in May, where I hope to continue to amass enough CS to give me a sense of belonging!)