Like a stereotypical Jewish mother, my Mom always worries about me when I am out and about. I call her quite often, or she calls me, just to update on what is going on. That, however, refers to “regular checkup calls” as opposed to what I am about to discuss.
Oftentimes, when I am out with friends, I meet them at a place somewhere in Chicago, and frequently return home solo. Just before I leave, I let them know that I will contact them when I return home safely. This is probably a common more (that word is pronounced “mor’ay” in this situation), but whether it is or not, it is certainly salient to me.
The reason why this is: since I live in Evanston but I frequently meet my friends in Chicago, the travel back home for me is a lengthy one including either an L and transfer(s), or a long bike ride. I feel it is part of my caring nature that I will always let the friends know when I return home. Though I don’t know how they feel about it, the feeling of security is very important to me.
Ever since I returned from Israel, it has become more important for me to let friends know when I returned home safely. On times that I have hung out with people from Birthright, it almost always has been in Chicago. The first time was an August evening in which I was the first to leave, due to needing to be up early the next morning for a training ride! The time was 23:00 when I left that night, and the hosts strongly recommended that (a) I take a cab and (b) let them know when I got home safely.
That experience must have been the drill that cemented that idea for me, as every time that I go into Chicago to rendezvous with friends, I call/text them when I return safely to Evanston. I feel that it eases the mind of both parties–it alleviates their concern for me, and vice-versa. Additionally, it gives me another chance to thank them for the social experience.
The idea for this blog post came last weekend, when I was at Navy Pier for the Falldown concert with a few of my friends from Birthright. The last few times that I have heard Falldown, it was at a bar in Chicago late on a Saturday night. For once, this time it was in the middle of the day, so that a cab was not required to return me home. Yay! Even so, since I was riding back on a bike, that could potentially be more dangerous than taking a cab late at night. Of course, I am a safe rider, so nothing bad happened. Still, I texted them when I got home safely, both saying “Got home safely” and “Good to see you again.”
This extends to another one of my friends who lives in Evanston. Despite the short distance, we mutually have agreed to let each other know when we return home after any kind of rendezvous.
In essence, it’s part of the more that “friends watch out for friends.”