Passing hello

In the small college town of Sewanee, Tennessee, where I grew up, saying hello to neighbors and strangers alike was second nature. The town, whose population doubles when school is in session, has long embraced a passing hello as a way to reinforce its strong sense of community. As both a child and later a student, whenever I walked down the street or passed by a stranger, we would meet eyes and exchange a friendly “Hello.” This simple ritual acknowledged everyone—students, professors, faculty, and long-time residents—reinforcing a collective sense of belonging.

Sewanee had another tradition, too. Back when cell phones could still flip and only offered 3G, pulling one out in public was often met with a loud, playful shout of “Save Sewanee!”—a lighthearted yet firm reminder that real-life connection mattered and these devices threatened it. The movement peaked around the same time as the Smirnoff Ice challenge, both ultimately fading with the inevitable cycles of trends and technological adoption.

Now, having lived away from Sewanee for so long, I often think about how we foster real-world connection in an increasingly digital world. In a city as dense and fast-paced as New York, how do we acknowledge one another? How do we preserve a sense of community?

When I first moved to the city in 2014, I was fascinated by how the built environment influences human interaction (thank you, Jane Jacobs). But despite urban design’s best intentions, I concluded early on that a crowded sidewalk isn’t an invitation for engagement; it’s a battlefield of dodging bodies, each person absorbed in their own world. I assumed Sewanee’s approach to community building was only possible in small towns.

That is, until I started paying attention and realized that New York’s version of a passing hello simply takes another form.

In a city where time is currency and personal space is limited, community reveals itself in small acts of consideration: holding the door for the person behind you, helping someone carry groceries up the subway stairs, catching an elevator door before it closes. These small gestures are, like a passing hello, acts of recognition—acknowledging each other’s efforts to navigate a city that demands both commitment and grit.

Lately, I’ve been making a conscious effort to bring more of this spirit into my daily interactions. Instead of a quick, transactional “thanks” at the coffee shop, I try to make eye contact and say, “Thank you—have a great day.” Lately, I’ve even started adding a “See you later,” a small effort to make these exchanges feel more generous. These slight extensions invite engagement, turning routine moments into something more human. And when someone reciprocates, even in the smallest way, it reminds me of home. I’ve learned that these interactions are more fun too. Not only that, but they’re contagious: an intention met with connection feels good. It also shows others the benefits of the behavior.

Maybe the passing hello isn’t about geography at all. Maybe it’s all about intention—about choosing to see the people around us, even in places where anonymity and busyness is the default.