One Rung Higher

Facebook reminds you it’s someone’s birthday. You open the app, type “Happy birthday!” and move on.

I do it too.

It’s a small acknowledgment, and it can be appreciated. There’s also a public element to it. Your name is on the list. They know you remembered, and everyone else can see that you showed up.

Now think about receiving a card in the mail.

Someone picked it out, wrote something inside, found your address, put a stamp on it, and sent it. They spent time thinking about you beyond the moment an app put your name in front of them.

Part of what makes that card meaningful is knowing someone went through a little work for you.

That difference has me thinking about what I call the ladder of communication.

We have more ways to reach one another than ever. Each carries a different amount of attention, context, and vulnerability. A like, a public comment, a personal message, a phone call, a video conversation, and time together in the same room all ask something different of us.

How often do we choose the easiest one without thinking about what another step might offer?

Feeling caught up

There’s something strange about following someone online.

You know where they went on vacation. You’ve seen pictures of their kids. You know they changed jobs or got a new dog. When their name comes up, you feel caught up.

Then you realize you haven’t spoken in a year.

You’ve seen the updates, but you haven’t asked any questions. You don’t know whether the new job is working out or how they’re handling everything happening between the pictures.

I think that feeling of being caught up can quietly replace the impulse to reach out. We see enough to feel connected, so we put off the conversation.

Meanwhile, they may be doing the same thing with us.

Two people can follow each other’s lives for years while having very little relationship with each other.

The Ladder

Near the bottom is the like or the quick public comment. It takes very little effort and exposes very little of ourselves. We can acknowledge someone without opening a conversation.

A text message moves us a little higher.

You’ve chosen to reach out directly. Your message arrives in a conversation between the two of you, instead of joining a pile of notifications. Even a simple “Happy birthday. How have you been?” creates an opening.

There’s room to think before responding. You can edit your words. You can answer later. That flexibility is useful, and sometimes a text is exactly what someone needs.

Then there’s the phone call.

This is where I think a lot of us hesitate.

What would I say? What if they’re busy? I don’t want to bother them. Those are understandable concerns. They’re also assumptions we make without giving the other person a chance to answer.

A call asks us to participate in something we haven’t rehearsed. We have to listen and respond. There might be an awkward pause. A quick birthday wish might turn into a conversation we didn’t expect.

And now we can hear each other.

A laugh, a hesitation, excitement in someone’s voice. The words carry more meaning because we hear how they’re being said. We might notice something that makes us ask another question.

Video adds another layer. We see the smile that goes with the laugh. We notice an expression change. We get a glimpse of the person’s surroundings and the life happening on the other side of the screen.

With each step, we add color and context.

At the top of this ladder is being together in person.

You get the full energy of someone’s presence. Their voice, expressions, body language, and the way they respond to the room. There can be a handshake or a hug. You can share a meal, sit through a silence, or let a conversation wander.

There’s more of the person available to you. And more of you available to them.

What the effort tells us

The ladder isn’t a strict ranking of how much someone cares. A handwritten letter can hold more meaning than a distracted video call. Being in the same room means very little if we spend the whole time looking at our phones.

But it helps us notice what we’re putting into an exchange.

Sometimes the investment is effort. Choosing a card. Writing the letter. Making the drive. Setting aside an evening.

Sometimes the investment is vulnerability. Calling without knowing exactly what to say. Asking a question whose answer might require us to stay and listen. Letting someone see that we’re having a difficult day.

Those investments matter because the other person can feel them.

They know you made time. They know you took a chance. They know you were willing to give the conversation more than a few spare seconds.

Leaving room for the unplanned

We’ve become comfortable with communication we can edit.

We can rewrite a message until it sounds right. Wait until we’re ready to respond. Delete the sentence that reveals a little too much.

I understand the appeal. Sometimes that space helps us say something thoughtfully.

But a live conversation lets someone encounter us before we’ve polished everything.

We lose our train of thought. We laugh at something unexpected. We struggle to explain what we mean, and the other person helps us find the words.

Those moments give a relationship room to develop. We learn how someone thinks, how they listen, and how they respond when the conversation takes an unexpected turn.

Trust can grow through that experience. We become a little more comfortable being ourselves with each other.

“I don’t want to bother them” I keep coming back to that sentence.

Sometimes it’s considerate. People have responsibilities, limited energy, and preferences about how they communicate.

Other times, I wonder whether it gives us a comfortable way to avoid the uncertainty.

We decide they won’t want the call. We assume there won’t be anything to talk about. We tell ourselves this is just how people communicate now.

Eventually, the easiest option becomes the standard.

The birthday comment replaces the call. The reaction replaces the question. “We should get together” becomes something we say every few months without ever opening the calendar.

Nobody makes a decision to let the relationship fade. We just keep choosing the option that asks the least of us.

Building toward connection

I spend a lot of time building things online, and I believe in what those spaces can make possible.

A shared interest can introduce you to someone you would never have met otherwise. A conversation can cross geography and grow into a friendship. An online community can give people a reason to gather around the same table.

That possibility is part of what draws me to building community around food. A recipe gives us something to talk about. Cooking gives us something to do together. A meal gives us time to stay.

I want to think about technology in those terms: what does it help us do next?

Does the interaction create an opening for a conversation? Does the conversation lead to a friendship? Do people eventually make time for each other?

We can ask those questions about the communities we build and the habits we develop inside them.

One rung higher

I want to become more intentional about this in my own life.

When a birthday reminder appears, I can pause long enough to think about the person. Maybe I send a direct message. Maybe I call. Maybe it reminds me that we’ve been saying “We should get together” for two years, and I finally suggest a date.

That’s the invitation: choose one person and go one rung higher than you normally would.

If you usually like their post, send a message. If you usually text, ask whether they have a few minutes to talk. If you’ve been talking through a screen, make plans to share a meal when you can.

Give them room to say another time. Then follow through.

There will probably be a little friction. You might have to find the words, rearrange your schedule, or risk a moment of awkwardness.

But that little bit of effort can carry a message of its own:

You matter enough for me to reach a little further.