Who Ya Gonna Call?

Whether you consider yourself a social butterfly or a hermit crab, there are times when we all need to rely on other people.

"TO-NY! Phone!" I heard my mother yell from the house.

It was a sunny, summer afternoon in Muncie, Illinois a month before my twelfth birthday. I was in the back yard, probably turning over rocks to see what was there. Yay, a centipede! Bummer, another roly-poly.

I ran to the house and picked up the kitchen phone receiver that my mom had left balanced on top of the receiver hook.

The screen door slammed as I heard Kevin's voice on the phone. He wanted to know if I could go see a movie with him. Not just any movie. The summer blockbuster of 1984: Ghostbusters. The movie everyone in the world had seen except me and Kevin. I told Kevin I would ask my mom and call him back. I hung up the phone. I hadn't noticed that my mom was silently folding laundry on the kitchen table.

I was nervous about asking her. We didn’t have a lot of money. And the nearest movie theater was twelve miles away in the big city of Danville. With my two little brothers under the age of five, I knew it would be a hassle for her, and she didn’t have time in abundance. And also there was the money thing.

But she had heard enough of my phone call with Kevin to know that I wanted to ask her something. That was a problem. I had intended to wait a minute and then call Kevin back and tell him that my mom said no. It didn't feel good lying to my best friend, but I feared confronting my mom and I was too ashamed and embarrassed to explain the situation to Kevin.

But my mom had heard. I couldn’t back out now. And also, I really wanted to see Ghostbusters.

So I took the three steps toward her in a slow twelve. She must have known what I was going to say but she pretended like she didn’t. Finally I found a thin, shaky semblance of my voice.

“So I was wondering if I could go see Ghostbusters with Kevin today. It’s okay if I can’t. He probably can’t go either.” I was trying to give her an easy out just to avoid any more confrontation.

She continued folding laundry. She was fiddling with a tiny pair of toddler shorts, barely worth folding. She didn't make eye contact with me and I could see her brow furrowing. She seemed to be wrestling with something in her mind. Finally she said, “When?"

"2:30."

After some more brow-furrowing and a thoughtful frown, she finally said, "There's five dollars in my purse."

My head was spinning with the unexpected good fortune, and the thought of seeing Ghostbusters, and the thought of five dollars. The movie was only $2.75. Could I spend the rest on candy or did she want change back?

My giddiness suddenly turned to panic. I had left out an important detail.

"Kevin is already at the mall with his Grandma. He wants to meet me there. Can you take me?" I realized my sudden good fortune could turn just as quickly to disappointment.

But without hesitation my mom said, "I have to go into town anyway. Your brother needs shoes." 

You can imagine how happy I was in that moment. Not only was I excited to see the biggest movie of the summer, I also felt a weight lifted from my shoulders.

"The less I need other people, the stronger I am." That's fallacy and folly in equal measure.

When I was a kid I relied on my parents for, well, everything. I couldn't wait to grow up and be independent and not have to beg for everything I wanted. That humiliation made me feel small.

As an adult I sometimes wear independence like a badge of honor. "The less I need other people, the stronger I am." But that's fallacy and folly in equal measure.

The most significant accomplishments happen because groups of people worked together. The Three Gorges Dam. Space exploration. That big work project you just celebrated with pizza and tchotchkes.

And when we embrace our vulnerability and ask for help, we create connection with other human beings. (See Brené Brown.) That connection, and the oxytocin hit it provides, not only feels good—it's also essential if we want to contribute something greater than ourselves.

We don't always feel safe asking for help. But consider the reward as well as the risk. The worst thing that could happen is that they say no. But maybe they'll say yes. And maybe someone needs new shoes anyway.