The Power of Hello

Greeting Those We Love

From the time I was little, I remember our regular trips visiting family in France and Italy. After they met, my father basically kidnapped my mother from her family and married her to force her back to New York, or at least that was the funny story everyone told. An important result of that partially true story was my mother’s demand that my father agree to traveling to Europe to visit her family at least once a year. So we did.

These trips were very simple affairs. My parents didn’t have a lot but would save money all year to buy the tickets to fly. In Europe we stayed only with family. There were no fancy hotels or resorts, glamorous restaurants, guided tours or name dropping locations. We were visiting and staying with family, spending simple family time and having boisterous family meals. To this day those are some of the most magnificently happy memories of my life.

It was standard operating procedure when arriving in France to expect almost every member of the family to come to the airport to greet us, save a very few who remained behind finishing up the large celebratory lunch that we would all soon sit at. It was a very big occasion. As soon as we arrived at customs, little openings in the security barriers revealed waving aunts and uncles and jumping cousins. Everyone, so excited to finally see us, savored the opportunity to take a trip to the airport to pick up family. Tight hugs, firm handshakes, the calling out of names, many kisses and oftentimes tears would overwhelm everyone. Then business resumed, grabbing suitcases to lighten the load of the travelers, grabbing arms to escort them out and flamboyantly describing all the wonderful things we would be doing, which mostly consisted of talking and eating.

Having arrived at the airport with several cars to pick us up, the family would enter into serious negotiations in the middle of the parking lot. A decision had to be made over who got into what car for the ride back. The negotiations were always unnecessary as inevitably one car would end up with mostly men, another mostly women and the final vehicle would be driven by a short straw pulling adult driving the clown car filled with me and my cousins. There was a sense of incredible value to every available moment we had with each other. Not an instant was to be wasted.

My Italian side is no different. I was taking my first wife to Sicily for the first time to visit my family. Upon descending the long escalator from arrivals in Palermo to exit the airport, we could see an enormous crowd of people standing at the bottom. They were densely mobbing the base of the escalator to such an extent that no rider would ever be able to get off. She excitedly asked me which ones in the crowd were my family. I scanned the animated mob who had started vigorously waving and calling out. I answered her with what I already knew.

“All of them.”

Although completely different culturally, the French and Sicilians shared a necessity to take as much of the extended family as possible to the airport to pick up the arriving travelers. It was a really big deal to them. In France, after arriving at our destination, oftentimes my grandparents’ house, we would all sit at a long table covered from end to end with all sorts of culinary delights, lots of bread and countless bottles of wine.

In Sicily the crowd was significantly larger due to the fact that half of the town would eventually also show up. The French and Sicilians have differing views on privacy. The French respect it while the Sicilians, well, they don’t really believe privacy is an entity that actually exists.

In Sicily it would proceed similarly to France, with a long table crammed with family, covered from end to end with Sicilian delights and lots of bread. Wine was not as abundant in Sicily due to the summer heat which made it less desirable. One difference from France was that when the end of the meal was approaching people from the town would magically and slowly start showing up, oftentimes hauling their own chairs from home. It would not be unusual for my grandparents’ house to be filled inside and out with dozens and dozens of people.

When family visited New York we were no different. A fond memory I have was of the deep short stainless steel heater covers my cousins and I would sit on at the old JFK airport’s arrival terminal. The original deep and short design was probably to keep people from leaning on the wall of thick glass that looked down onto the lines going through customs, but the result was not as planned. Although too low for adults, kids were quite comfortable sitting and laying all over them right up against the glass.

Our game was to scan the lines and the people as they progressed until we would spot our family or friends. Then we would point them out to our parents and start frantically knocking on the thankfully very thick glass with our knuckles to get their attention. Everytime the glass was knocked from the many kids high above, the arriving travelers on line would look up in search of their families. When they would finally spot us, huge smiles appeared and oftentimes tears. I don’t know how those customs officers put up with the racket all day!

All this to say, I remember hellos to be quite an important part of life. An appreciation of someone you hadn’t seen in a long time. An expression of loving someone you saw regularly. It was ceremonial and important. It created a feeling of belonging, love, desire, yearning and protection. Yes, it was even cinematic, which was beautiful!

Those traditional sorts of hellos seem to be less common in modern life or at least much more subdued. Less people show up to greet you at the airport or train station. There is less excitement. Maybe the novelty is gone? Maybe texting, facebook, photo sharing and such sucked some of the life, excitement and specialty out of seeing someone? Perhaps I’m being too cynical but when a big hello actually does happen nowadays it feels melodramatic, exaggerated, forced, as if it is being filmed for a reality TV show.

A compact and potent example of a perfect hello is when lovers separated for a long time reunite. A young lady on a platform glimpses the love of her life descending the steps of his just arrived train. An enormous smile suddenly appears on her face and she instantly starts sprinting towards him. He sees the beautiful woman he has been longing for and drops his bags onto the ground beside him in preparation for her rapid arrival.

When only a few feet away she leaps into the air like a powerful gymnast. His arms open and outstretched, ready to catch his adoring love who is currently flying through the air towards him like a giant bag of flour. He catches her with his hands and arms wrapping them around her thighs. She knots her legs tightly around his waist and her arms hold his head in a vice as she screeches with glee. Moving as one in a slow circular pattern as passersby giggle at the sight.

Lovers don’t do all this because they have to. It is not orchestrated or preplanned. It is an instinctive reaction. Unconsciously responding to the force of the ultimate emotion of love. As soon as they see each other, the longing desire and need for each other become palpable and the instinct to be as close together as possible, never separating, overwhelms them.

I, for one, want to work on my hellos and hope we all go back to saying hello like we used to.

If you enjoyed this you will also enjoy these:

The Importance of Goodbye I… Every Goodbye Should be a Memento Mori

The Importance of Goodbye II… French Style…

The Importance of Goodbye III… Italian Style…