The definition of synchronicity is “the simultaneous occurrence of events which appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection.” Random Connection stories certainly have a synchronicity aspect to them. However, those of you who have read this column over many years, likely suspect that I believe there is a definite causal relationship, even though we don’t have the ability to figure it out.
Do you think there is a causal connection, or just synchronicity, to the following 7 stories?
I was sitting in a coffee bar across the street from my dermatologist in New York City, killing time until my appointment. My phone rings and a former colleague, Darren, says to me, “Dan, a few years ago you mentioned your dermo in New York. Can you give me his contact details?”
Two years ago, I started a new workout regimen. Part of that included tracking the number of workouts. About a year into my new program, my wife, Abby, and I had a weekend getaway. We arrived at the hotel and checked into room 221. I then changed into my gym clothes and headed to the fitness center. I checked my phone where I tracked my progress. I was on my way to workout 221.
In 1997 Abby and I attended a birthday dinner for my Aunt who was celebrating her 80th birthday. The party was held at the Toulouse restaurant in Washington, DC. The next weekend, one of my colleagues, based in Oklahoma City, took his family to Washington. They ate at the same place, not knowing that I had just been there.
I traveled to Chicago often on business when I worked in the financial services industry. On one trip, I made a call on a prospect, Citadel, a company that is very protective of its intellectual property. All visitors are escorted to a designated meeting room reserved by the Citadel host. Our escort was confused and took us to the wrong room. When we entered it, a friend of mine, from New York City, Nishu, was sitting there.
On 9/11/2001, the emotions of the day prompted my wife to make a montage of old family photos. She grabbed a pile of images, turned one over, to find a date printed on the back, 9/11/43.
We were invited to our friends, The Siegelmans, for a cookout a few years ago (you may be a reader of Linda’s Connections column on New York City food). Shortly after arriving, we were introduced to other friends of theirs. As we talked with them, we learned that close friends of their daughter had just moved into our former apartment in New York City, where we lived before moving to Warren over 25 years ago.
Finally, my given name is Dan, not Daniel. I also have a middle initial, “A” but no middle name. Sometimes my first and middle names are run together on documents into Dana, which is my wife’s middle name. I’m not exactly sure why I received just a middle initial, but no confusion on my wife’s middle name. It is the street on which her Aunt lived, where her parents conceived her.