"Don't wait on other people to speak to you first. Speak to others first."----My Grandmother, Thelma Darr

I have been told that I am an extrovert. I took a test recently called "16Personalities" which identified me as an extrovert. I’m not a big fan of labels, so I normally push back and question the terms of the extrovert/introvert lables. For years I've quoted Kierkegaard,“If you label me, you negate me.”

I slowly nod my head. I do not want to piss anyone off if I push too hard and say the whole system oversimplifies the uniqueness of our personalities. Some people identify so deeply with being an introvert or extrovert, it is almost the same kind of identifier as saying “I’m a Christian” or “I’m libertarian” or “I’m a vegan” as if the trend of the whole self-identification of personality types is a philosophical worldview. I see both introvert and extrovert tendencies in myself; yet, it seems it doesn’t matter what I identify as. The consensus of my friends (mostly the introverted) have spoken with an overwhelmingly loud voice in my left ear “You, Nate Branson, are an extrovert.”

You can simplify extrovert vs. introvert conversation into one question, it is the following: “How do you recharge in your free time after work or over the weekend?” If you want to go to a social gathering to recharge on a Saturday night, you are an extrovert. If you want to spend time alone in a quiet space on the weekend, you are an introvert.

OK. So I am an extrovert.

Since the extroverted worldview has been imputed to me by my friends, I now ask "Why am I an extrovert? Why do I feel so refreshed by attending a party on a Friday night?"

The Branson-Darr Gathering Habit

My answer to why I am an extrovert is partially explained by what I call the Branson-Darr Gathering Habit. Part of my expectations of other people and my social life were shaped at an early age by how consistently my family gathered. My mom’s name is Patti Darr Branson. I spent my entire childhood on Old Greensboro Road, the same road my mom grew up on. So I grew up in the midst of the Branson-Darr Gathering Habit, which I would define as “We gather together on big holidays and birthdays.” My Dad’s side of the family, the Branson side, had an almost identical philosophy of gathering. We would meet once every two months to celebrate birthdays plus the three big holidays, which would mean 9 times per year for my mom’s side of the family and around 9 times for my dad’s side of the family. That would equal about 18 meetings per year total for me of meeting with my extended family. Part of this was possible because both sides of the family lived within 30 miles of one another.

Despite the fact there wasn’t any overlap between my Dad’s side of the family and my mom’s side of the extended family, both sides of the family had nearly identical gathering habits. So gatherings of people of 15-20 family members in one house, all eating together was something that was planted into my brain as a cultural norm, something everyone understood and longed to do.

As a kid, I absolutely loved doing this. I always wanted to go to a gathering because I was a somewhat lonely bored kid. An extended family gathering at Thelma Darr’s house meant that I would get to play football in the front yard with my cousins. As a middle schooler, I had building anticipation in the week leading up to the holidays. Part of this excitement was connected to my desire to beat my cousin Paul at football. We were in the same grade in school, born 6 months apart. I desperately wanted to beat Paul at front-yard football. Paul and I were close friends, we went to the same middle and high school, but the competitive spirit was there as I imagined myself as Dallas Cowboys star Emmitt Smith and Paul saw himself as Colts start Marshall Faulk.

This culminated every year through the months of September and October to a big Thanksgiving front yard football game we called the Turkey Bowl played between 1994 and 2000. When we played in the front yard on Thanksgiving, the stakes were high since our older cousins Brad and Sean played. My brother Daniel and Kyle would play along with my cousins Seth and Ryan. If my team lost the game I would feel a deep shame and anger, while if my team won (Paul and I were always on separate teams), I would feel a pride that would last for at least until Christmas morning, the next extended family gathering, where would be playing a rematch.

I think part of my extroversion comes from this idea being planted into my mind that friendship is associated with a gathering. And this idea was repeated for years with the Branson-Darr Gathering Habit. Late elementary school and middle school are formative times for a kid. A middle school kid cannot drive, so socialization is heavily dependent on the habits of parents. For my family, my parents allowed us to get video games and cable TV when I started middle school, which exposed my brothers and me to the wider world. Yet the constant during this time was what was happening with Paul and also my other cousin Ryan who lived nearby.

As a kid, I also watched the consistent interactions between my parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. Looking back, they were kind to one another and I did not see them show anger toward one another. There is a kind of devotion to one another that can be seen when a family gathers for Easter, Thanksgiving or Christmas or someone’s birthday, we were gathering together, no questions asked. If my grandmother Thelma Darr was having a get-together, it was inherently assumed that this was worth our time and our family needed to be there. With everyone in driving distance, all eating together was possible on a Sunday afternoon. Looking back, the adults did not look unhappy to attend our gatherings.

As an adult, I am sometimes disappointed when I meet adults over the age of 45 who are anti-social, excessively grumpy, unfriendly or misanthropic. I think I constantly compare them to the adults I encountered at family gatherings back in 1996. When I showed up to a Darr gathering, my aunts and uncles acted like golden retrievers toward me. When I walked into family gatherings, they greeted me and asked me questions. I could tell they liked me and were glad I came with my parents. Eventually, of course, they turned their focus to the other adults, which was fine with me. I wanted to hang out with my cousins. Both of my grandparents were incredibly kind and loving toward me (this is an understatement).

Because of what I saw at family gatherings over and over again as a child and a teenager, my default expectation is “People can work together no matter the circumstances, not only family members, co-workers, friends from college, church members and neighbors.” Since I was consistently greeted by my cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents with a unique openness, kindness and love, why would I not expect the same out of the rest of the world?

The Consistent Expectation of Finding Like-Minded, Loving People

Why am I an extrovert? Well, I was consistently recharged as a child and a teenager by participating in the Branson-Darr Gathering Habit, so I expect to attend a party and find people who want to be around me. I expect to find open, like-minded people in the world. If I am feeling fatigued as an adult on a Thursday night, I begin to hope that someone is having a party, a dinner, meet up with a group of people at a bar or the local restaurant on Friday or Saturday night. My desire to recharge is aimed at being around others. This particular habit has not only formed my personality but subtly informed me about what it means to be an adult and the advantages of having a dependable extended family.

David Brooks wrote an incredible article titled “The Nuclear Family was a Mistake” about 2 years ago.. The title is misleading. I think the editor changed it to a clickbait title for the sake of getting hits online. Yet the whole article is centered around how much stronger an individual and the immediate family are when they have the support of the extended family. Here’s what he says:

“Extended families have two great strengths. The first is resilience. An extended family is one or more families in a supporting web. Your spouse and children come first, but there are also cousins, in-laws, grandparents—a complex web of relationships among, say, seven, 10, or 20 people. If a mother dies, siblings, uncles, aunts, and grandparents are there to step in. If a relationship between a father and a child ruptures, others can fill the breach. Extended families have more people to share the unexpected burdens—when a kid gets sick in the middle of the day or when an adult unexpectedly loses a job. . . The second great strength of extended families is their socializing force. Multiple adults teach children right from wrong, how to behave toward others, how to be kind.”

Now that I am an adult, I look back on this experience with deep gratitude because I know how much work it takes to make food for 20 people. I think of my grandmother Thelma, my two aunts Karen and Janice and my mother Patti. The grounding motivation for these gatherings could have been a sense of teamwork between my grandmother and her three daughters: if we make a decent size meal, we won’t have to cook every Sunday. Teamwork for the sake of survival. Whatever the case------if someone doesn’t take charge and say “We are eating a family meal,” no gatherings happen. The cooking of these women on my mom’s side laid the foundation for these gatherings. The same can be said of the Branson women on the other side of the family. I am deeply grateful for the structure and environment I was raised in that benefits me today. I can look back on my childhood and say “I had an incredible extended family. I see now how they had to be intentional to make my childhood a memorable one.”

I do my best to give people the benefit of the doubt. I do this in the midst of a culture that seems to be increasingly cynical about “other people.” It is a mood that could potentially turn me into a jaded, anti-social person if I do not fight to keep an open mind toward other people. This has nothing to do with the fact that I am an extrovert. It is deeper than that.

How then can I keep a kind disposition toward others? How do I assume the best about others? When I hear people from my church unnecessarily gossip about one another, when I feel a strong misanthropic mood from my students, or when the morale at the office feels dead and impersonal, I think about the work that my relatives put in for all those early years to make a family gathering possible. I think about the ruthlessly consistent temperament of my parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents to love one another. I think about what my grandmother once told my aunt “Don’t wait on others to speak to you first, speak to others first.” Harmony can exist if we fight for it.

Is it possible for me to put in that kind of work to create a gathering amongst my friends and family in the subtle hostilities of the present day? I don't know if I have the strength or charisma. But I know 100% that I have a template to follow.