I’ve been visiting Beaver Island my entire life. A small island in Lake Michigan accessible by ferry from Charlevoix (no, it’s not Mackinac). There’s one main road, no stop lights, and only one grocery store.
And a lot of people who wave. Drivers wave to other drivers…and to pedestrians and to cyclists. And people wave back. It doesn’t matter if you live here or if you’re just visiting, people wave to you. (Of course, with about 600 people on an island the size of Manhattan, waving is manageable.)
So why do people wave to each other (on or off the island)?
- originally, to demonstrate mutual disarmament – I have no weapons
- today, to say “hello” or “goodbye”
- to acknowledge and recognize people
- to welcome others and communicate a willingness to connect
- to show respect and solidarity
Motorcyclists wave, typically with two fingers pointing downward to signify “stay safe.” And Jeep drivers wave to convey respect. Our commonalities – motorcycles, Jeeps, Beaver Island – help us quickly identify those who share a kindred spirit. We wave to acknowledge the tribe, the community that our commonality creates.
So then what stops us from waving more often?
- we’re too disconnected, our faces buried in screens
- we are indifferent to others – we don’t care
- we worry that waving is insignificant – it wouldn’t matter
- we don’t see (or look for) our commonalities
- we fear being humiliated if others don’t wave back
What if we waved without expectation?
What if we waved simply to help others feel welcomed, acknowledged, and connected? What if we waved to create a kindred spirit instead of waiting for a kindred spirit before waving? All the waving on Beaver Island reminds me that humanity can actually be our commonality.