Dutch bingo, Rob Bell's cousin & Fergie

Last Friday was Rob Bell’s Cousin’s birthday.  I know, like me, you might feel like a bit of a smo for not remembering to call or to offer at the very least a cursory Facebook happy birthday message.  Or, in the event that you either (A) have no idea who Rob Bell is or (B) – the more palatable/realistic of the two options for me as it is unimaginable that there are those out there who don’t know who Rob Bell is – did not realize it was indeed his cousin’s birthday, allow me to explain my connection. And that is really what this whole blog entry today is about – connections. 

So my very dear friend, Sharon, went to college (insert name of small, Midwestern Christian liberal arts school here as I somehow suspect all of Rob Bell’s cousins went to this specific strand of higher learning institutions) with a red-headed woman named Heather who married a tall, witty man named Bruce who is, indeed, the aforementioned cousin of Rob Bell.  This fact was brought to my attention when at Sharon’s wedding Heather was given the charge of doing my hair.  Okay – the fact might have come up some other times but it was a very awkward non-sequitur when the much obliging Heather was curling iron in hand, as it were, fixing my terribly unruly hair.  I could think of no appropriate response to the lead in, “you know Heather is married to Rob Bell’s cousin.”

Heather, who I think possibly might get this type of introduction more often than not as Rob Bell has somewhat of a cult following in Christian intellectual circles (and yes, if you couldn’t have already surmised, I am in that cult), quickly and naturally lead our conversation into more organic territory – most notably how she as recent transplant to Dallas, Texas, has gained quite a bit of experience into curling iron tricks.  So much for a liberal arts education, right? 

Of course, Sharon shared this unusual piece of Heather’s story (not sure she lists married to Rob Bell’s cousin on her résumé), in the hopes of Heather and I forging a deeper bond than the, in this case, hair styling might otherwise lend. Her heart was in the right place, and without question I did find Heather – and Bruce by extension – to be a dear woman who, connection to Rob Bell aside, I would be proud to call a friend.  I admit, having a close friend recognize and build a link on my behalf based entirely on my esteem for Rob Bell, was a bit of a wake-up call that my regard for Rob Bell might have floated a bit too close to the creepy region/zone. Now, it seems whenever the topic of Bruce or Heather comes up, as it did last week on Bruce’s birthday, Sharon will make a funny reference to him being Rob Bell’s cousin.

Now onto what this has to do with Dutch Bingo.  Another friend, who is of Dutch ancestry originally hailing, like Rob Bell, from western Michigan, told me about something she and her family members refer to as Dutch Bingo.  Apparently the Dutch world is very small and interconnected and as such, often people in that world who don’t already know one another will, upon a meeting, embark on an ad hoc round of Dutch Bingo where they each, through their network of connections, will figure out a mutual connection.  Somewhat akin to Seven Degrees of Kevin Bacon.   I am told most will be able to find a bingo within minutes.  I suppose the point of the game, much like with Sharon and Rob Bell’s cousin, is to transform what would otherwise be a mere acquaintance, into a deeper, richer connection leading to friendship.

Today, I unknowingly played my own particular strand of Dutch Bingo, including a co-worker and among other people Fergie (aka Stacy Ferguson).  I work with maybe forty other people many of whom, even four months into the gig, I must confess, I don’t know very well.  One of those casual acquaintances today shared his wife was a teacher.  This was very interesting to me, and got more interesting when it turned out she teaches in the very same school district of the town I grew up in.  This is not that unusual as we work maybe three towns over from my home town but what was unusual was my co-worker’s wife is also from the same small town (more aptly described as an unincorporated area of LA County).

I had a pretty good sense my co-worker was about my same age and could pretty safely place his wife in this bracket. When I figured out she was from the same town as me, I made a joke about her knowing Fergie.  Indeed, she and Fergie grew up together.  Still no bingo, as I am not nor have I ever been friends with Fergie, but it was a funny coincidence.  Then he asked me if I knew Bonnie Wilson.  No bells ring, but I keep kicking the ball around in my head until it dawns on me (later confirmed by a text to a childhood friend) – Mrs. Wilson, my well-meaning and eccentric junior high science teacher who on the first day of seventh grade, upon reading the roll, kicked me out for no other reason than being my brother’s sister.  Bonnie Wilson is now my co-worker’s wife’s boss as well as having been my junior high science teacher years ago a connection no less strange as being married to Rob Bell’s cousin.  Today the world was made a wee bit smaller.