I have been re-reading Sherwood Anderson's Winesburg Ohio (I was 22 years old the first time) published in 1919. Anderson dedicated his book to the memory of his mother "Whose keen observations on the life about her first awoke in me the hunger to see beneath the surface of lives." Of all the characters that inhabit this wonderful book, none of them seem able to connect with another person in any sort of meaningful way and it's not that they don't try. Every character just seems incapable of sharing their deeper longings, hungers, fears and hopes. When they try it just goes wrong. It is like they are all just knocking into each other like bumper cars; never able to have anything that even approaches real shared intimacy even though they're dying for it.
Drawing people together around a shared meal is a wonderful antidote to the deep isolation that defines postmodern culture. Our loneliness has become so second nature that we have taken it to be normal life. Facebook is a way to reach out but it also creates an illusion of connectedness that can actually stave off real intamacy.
Perhaps there is some one you would like to invite over for a meal. I know we have a lot of great restaurants to choose from these days but a lovingly prepared meal at home tends to just go deeper. Call them. Message them. Send them a letter because you and their "deeper" life depends on it and I will too.