BY MELANIE ULLE
Remember when grocery shopping involved talking to people? The cashier knew your name. The bagger asked about your mom. You stood in line and chatted with whoever was behind you about the weather, or the Broncos, or how the Broncos were going to ruin your whole weekend again. There was one cashier my kids and I would see every week at our local store and she always remembered them and asked them about school, sports, or their Brownies troop. It made them excited to go to the store even when they were tired and hungry.
In the Netherlands, those interactions never stopped. A Dutch grocery chain actually created a checkout lane just for chatting. It’s called the Kletskassa, the “chat checkout,” and it’s exactly what it sounds like. You take your sweet time. You talk about your grandkids. You talk about how cauliflower costs eleven dollars now. And nobody behind you is sighing loudly or dramatically looking at their Apple Watch because everyone in that lane signed up for it.
Denver doesn’t have one. King Soopers, if you’re reading this, please call me.
We’ve built a world where you can go days without talking to an actual human. Self-checkout. App ordering. Groceries left on your porch by a guy who’s gone before the doorbell finishes ringing. It’s all very efficient, and it’s making a lot of people really, really lonely. Lonely in plain sight, standing right next to you at the light rail stop.
Some smart people around here are sneaking human contact back into life. No pressure, no impatient line. Just people.
For the newbies, or those who don’t have dozens of nonprofit clients who teach them what’s happening in the community, there’s a thing called social prescribing, and it’s as delightful as it sounds. Axis Integrated Mental Health in Denver writes it into treatment plans. Providers write actual referrals to community gardening networks, walking groups, and passes to the Denver Botanic Gardens. Your doctor tells you to go smell the roses. Literally. I would like that doctor, please.
Local arts advocates took this idea and ran with it. Prescription for the Arts lets healthcare providers prescribe tickets to museum exhibits, live concerts and studio workshops. (I’m still waiting on my prescription for Buntport Theater. It would need to be a matinee, obviously. I’m tired.) The point of both is to get mental health support into places where people bump into each other and can connect over something they both love.
The Denver Public Library was one of the first library systems in the country to put full-time social workers and community resource specialists out on the floor. Not behind a desk. Not in a back office. On the floor, walking around, listening and chatting with patrons who might otherwise go days without saying a word to anyone. The library has always been the one place where you can walk in, sit down and not buy anything. Now somebody might also ask how you’re doing.
Have you heard of Wellness Winnie? First, it is the best name the City of Denver has ever come up with, and I will not be taking questions. Winnie is a mobile public health van that parks in neighborhood squares and parks, staffed by peer navigators who hand out water, basic supplies and conversation. No intake forms. No appointments. Just a person on the sidewalk who has time for you.
A Little Help is a local nonprofit that connects older residents with volunteers for help around the house, rides to appointments, and regular front porch visits. What I love is that it isn’t set up like charity. It’s set up like neighbors, because it is neighbors. The volunteers live on the same blocks. They come back. It’s the same face week after week, which takes almost no social energy from anyone and builds a real sense of belonging over time. I was on their board, so I’m a bit biased here, but please check them out.
It reminds me of the Denver where I grew up in, back when there were lots and lots of older people, and the lady next door knew all your business and no one stole your stuff because she was always sitting there just staring at your house. But… I digress.
A two-minute chat about the weather has zero stakes. Nobody’s on the spot. Nobody has to be charming or impressive. For someone who’s lonely, that little exchange in the library or on the porch says, “I see you.” That’s huge.
I remember after my grandfather died, my grandmother would share how bored and lonely she was with me. She would lament the loss of her siblings and her friends. She had outlived almost all of them. She would say, “you can only clean your closet so many times.”
She could have used a person to chat with on her back porch. Just a person to talk to about those darned mosquitos. Or those darned Broncos.
Maybe our city doesn’t need a chat lane (though, again, King Soopers, call me if you wish to discuss it). It probably just needs more of what smart folks are already doing. So, if this story moved you even a little, join me and send a donation to A Little Help, or better yet, sign up to be one of their porch visitors. Wave at Winnie if you see her. And the next time the cashier asks how your day is going, tell them.