“Where are you from?”

It’s one of the first things my husband asks when we meet someone. Anyone. Everyone. Seriously. No one escapes without the question. I used to roll my eyes, but turns out it’s kind of genius. (I shudder to use the word genius when I know he’s going to read this.)

Because when he asks the question, he often discovers a connection. It’s random and it’s often small, but it leads to a smile and making the connection leads to well, a connection.

The idea of making a...