Exclusion

Teenage social dynamics are difficult for kids to navigate, let alone adults. Children’s social groups build walls so high and strong that kids in the same classroom don’t communicate with each other.

And then there’s the child who is on the outside of all of it. Sometimes these kids are still developing socially. Sometimes, it’s not their fault at all. No matter what, these are children who want friends, but are not making them. What happens when the outcasts reach out? Most of the time they will be rejected. 

Several times, my children have been in the middle between trying to give one of these kids a social opportunity while risking rejection by their own group of friends who want nothing to do with those kids. Sometimes, my children have been rejected. Sometimes, they have been the wall builders.  

So what do I tell my child to do? Be candid with the outcast child about his behavior: “When you jump on furniture and demand attention, it is annoying. I want to have plans with you, but you need to be more socially appropriate.” Most children don’t know how to say this and the outcast child probably can’t do it! Such a tactic is not realistic; most children couldn’t give or take that kind of feedback. 

Children would simply be cruel: “I would like to include you in our plans but I’ve been out-voted. The others don’t want to include you.” This is an evasion. In several cases, my child didn’t want to include the outcast either but felt obligated. Sometimes I insisted my child be inclusive. Sometimes I failed, too. 

We tried to forbid our children from being exclusionary. As Grace Palay put it, “you can’t say, you can’t play.” Yet, kids’ social groups have only limited fluidity and parents have limited control. As parents, we have made it very clear to our kids where we stand. Not all parents work that way. 

Some social groups were built by parents. Some social groups are maintained by them. I often wonder which one controls which? As a teacher, I see how the social worlds of parents and children are intertwined. In many cases, the kids are pawns in the parents’ social games. 

Some parents recommend their children conceal rejection with dishonesty: “Our plans have fallen apart and I have to go home and do homework anyhow.” Does this fool anyone? It is code. We all know what is being said. It is the same as the cruel statement and it is a lie. 

While white (or gray) lies may be easier in the short run, they are the most problematic solution. They avoid dealing with the real issues. They teach both the child lying and the child being lied to that this kind of dishonesty is a real solution; it is a cop out. It teaches kids that you can say and do nasty things if you cloak them in little lies.

Would you advise your child to be totally altruistic? “My friends aren’t comfortable with including you, so I will make plans with you by myself and not go with them.” How many kids reject their friends and run off with the outcasts?  Would your eight, ten, or fifteen-year-old do this? 

This solution is very costly. Very few kids want to be with these isolated children and the child who stands up for him or her often ends up isolated, too. Is losing friends worth reaching out to a child who needs one. Most teenagers will not make that trade. Could they make it once in a while? Is that enough? 

That leaves one option: “Sure, you can join us.” And that is the choice I struggled to get my children and students to make. 

Twenty Years Ago: November 2003

 I must have had a cold for all of 2003!  November in 2003 was rainy and my son had a cold, too. While later in his life, I would wish for rain to cancel baseball games, in 2003, I dreaded rain because it did not cancel his soccer games. Can you see how much I loved sitting outside watching my children’s sports? 

My elder child was trying to battle her way into the school’s gifted program. She was upset that she was not selected and I had to hide my relief, “There are so many problems with that program. If she was selected there would be more issues than if she was not. Let her do her “gifted” thing in high school. I do not see that those who have been TAP’d have any advantage over those who do not. Often, they are more arrogant and more concerned with grades. Some are brighter, most are not. This is a blessing in disguise.” Of course, my child did not agree – until she got herself into the program in middle school. Then she understood what I was talking about. Oh, well. 

In November of 2003, I was phenomenally busy, “I am fighting the overwhelmed feeling. This weekend, I’ll take my Sunday School class to Willowcreek. On Monday, I’ll get essays. I need to get a Shabbat service ready for 12/5. Mango Street and the Book Circle unit are coming up and I don’t feel like either is fully developed. I am feeling like a ton is on the horizon. My grades are done, the parent notices are due. Get me to the end of the year.” 

I was also preparing our yearly holiday card. Prior to digital photography, getting a good picture could take months: shoot a roll or two, have it developed, reject the results, rinse and repeat. Fortunately, in 2003, I had my first digital camera. However, my three editors/critics could be very demanding; they wanted only their finest images on our yearly greeting card. It took a while to come to an agreement. 

Like this year, November meant a Saturday at Windycon. Since I was preparing to officiate at a bat mitzvah, I was debating whether to see one more mitzvah on a Saturday or travel to the convention. I made the healthy choice and gave myself a wonderful Saturday of celebrating science fiction and fandom. 

It was in 2003 that I integrated my Sunday School curriculum. In 2001, I taught comparative Judaism and in 2002, I taught comparative everything else. Why it wasn’t clear to me that was out of balance then, I am not sure. Perhaps because I was out of balance, too. So, I reorganized religions by theme and philosophy, had five field trips per year, and acknowledged that, since my students were going to many of their friends’ mitvzahs, we didn’t need to go to Reform and Conservative services. They were getting more than enough of those. 

In November 2003, I took my Sunday School class for our first trip to the megachurch in Barrington, Willow Creek. It was a foundational experience for them – and for me. We have been going back to Willow Creek every other year since then. 

The dog’s issues amped up in November. It was clear that the dog was now blind. I joked, “We have decided that we need to hire a seeing-eye person for the blind dog. Well, not really, but poor PJ is really struggling and it will be a few weeks at least until he gets better, if he gets better. It is really tough.”

I took my new Humanities class on a field trip to the Chicago Shakespeare Theater. This raised my level of busyness to a brand-new pitch, “Teach until afternoon, meet with the team, come home, go back for the faculty meeting, come home for dinner and give PJ his meds and then go back for the field trip. I’ll be home again around midnight! But it will be a good day, even if it is an exhausting one.” My optimism must have substituted for my lack of sleep. 

If I was questioning the value and manner of grading my own students, the grades my children were earning furthered that process, “Over and over, I question the value of these report cards. In the short story we discussed in Power Reading today, ‘Tom Edison’s Shaggy Dog,’ Edison invents an intelligence analyzer and predicts that we will be able to ‘grade people as easily as we grade oranges.’ Isn’t that what it is all about? I read my Humanities kids’ self-evaluations. One thing that came up a few times was their resistance to our grading system. Kids want to be graded. What a shame.” 

It is interesting to look back twenty years and see who was important in our lives then and now – and who we no longer see. We used to spend a great deal of time with neighbors who had kids the same age as our children. There were several families with whom we had both family and couple dates. We don’t see any of them anymore. However, there are folks with whom we were close that we see regularly. Yes, there is a message there: relationships based entirely on the kids didn’t last.

So, teaching, Sunday School, running Shabbat services, getting ready for a Bat Mitzvah, the neighborhood homeowner association (the annual meeting had to be planned), planning winter and spring break travel, taking care of a sick and blind dog, and the kids’ activities made November of 2003 a very long month. I am tired just writing that list. Oh! I noted that I joined the school crest committee at school. Did I ever say, “NO?” 

Twenty Years Ago: August 2003

August 2003 was an exhausting mix of summer and school. It was a swirl of family activity, classroom setup, travel, home improvement, socializing, celebrating, and dog drama. I don’t blame any reader who looks at this piece and says, there is no way all of that occurred in the month before school starts. I found it difficult to believe myself. 

This was a very social month! We got together with ten families (one at a time). We went to the Museum of Science and Industry, the Hancock Building, Illinois Railway Museum, Arlington Park, and the Planetarium. Without the kids, we went to the movies and saw the Broadway touring company of Mama Mia. We had dinner with our dear friend, Dorothy. 

We celebrated my mother’s 65th birthday with a big party at the Chicago Botanical Garden. My brother and his family came in for the event which was held in the garden’s pavilion. It was a fantastic evening. I toasted/roasted my mother with a fun ode in her honor. 

My folks, my wife’s aunt, and the four of us took a trip to the Wisconsin Dells. We took two cars and made a stop in Madison where my parents went to college. We stayed at the Wilderness Lodge, rode the indoor and outdoor water slides, took our “dam pictures” on the Ducks, played miniature golf, got an old-time photo, and saw the obligatory water show at Tommy Bartlett’s. When I got home, I started plans to visit my cousin in Florida for spring break. 

The dog continued to need plenty of attention. I became the sole person to give him shots. He continued to have overnight accidents and thus was crated in the evenings. He was angry with me about that. He developed a sore on his cheek. We moved to a vet who was nearby rather than schlepping all the way down to Wilmette. The dog stayed at our new vet’s boarding kennel while we were at the Dells. 

Home projects continued. We finished replacing both the roof and the siding on the house. We also replaced all the gutters. Of course, it rained as we replaced the roof. The banging above my head was both headache-inducing and shook the house such that things fell off shelves in every bedroom. We replaced and repaired ceiling fans, 

On the school front, I had a workshop with my new teaching team. I prepared my classroom and spent a ton of time at school. I made copies of handouts, sent and prepared emails, created decorations, and made name plates and other welcome materials. I had dinner with the Seeking Educational Equity and Diversity (SEED) group. 

“I did some work at school and got there just after 11. I stayed until just after 3! That place is a black hole. I didn’t have a ton on my list but I did this and that and the time vanished. It took me more than an hour to send all of my e-mail letters from last year.”

Meanwhile, I was still taking adult Hebrew lessons, scheduling field trips to various houses of worship for my Sunday school class, and organizing the congregation’s Friday night services for the upcoming year. And in August, rehearsals for the High Holiday choir started. 

Sometimes, I wrote in my journal that I was overwhelmed, “I feel at odds and ends, unsettled. I don’t know if it is the approach of school, the lack of structure right now for this family, Sunday School field trips, Friday night services. There are a lot of balls up in the air. I worked on lots of this and that today, but I don’t feel like I put any of it to rest. Yes, I got two small tasks off the list but the big ones remain, and GROW! Each task gives birth to a new one once accomplished! I find myself blocking and wanting to NOT do some of this stuff.”

But at other times, I am just rolling with the coaster, “It is amazing the difference a day makes. I spent the morning in school today and got a ton done. Handouts are ready for the first day. I gave the policy packets to Jean’e and worked on the Power Reading word games. I finished the room signs and gave them to Debbie to laminate. My desk is all set up and I am ready to start decorating the room. If I spend a few hours tomorrow, I’ll be in great shape! The only thing that is not EXACTLY there are humanities lesson plans and those must be done collectively. Friday night services are coming along, I’ve made a variety of calls for Sunday School; I will just need to follow up. I have an appointment to take Q to meet with the camp lady too! All my projects are on the burners and cooking nicely.”

Thank goodness those Augusts are behind me! 

1000 Days of Retirement: What Keeps You Busy?

Whatever I want. 

I thought about leaving it at that. Seriously, asking people what they are going to do when they retire or what they are doing in retirement is akin to asking what comes next to high school and college seniors. 

Before I retired, I would tell people that I was going to take a gap year and just figure things out. I would also joke that I was going to become a pirate. It is difficult to plan for retirement when one doesn’t know what it will look like. 

And now, 1000 days later, I am still figuring it out. Of the 1000 days since I retired, 720 of them have been during the COVID pandemic. At least once a week, someone says some variation on, “you retired at the right time.” Yes, I did. I deserve no credit for it. 

What have I been doing in retirement? A great deal! However, the big difference is that I am busy without being frenetic. I call it easy busy. One of the best things about retirement is that I get more control of the pace, and I have been trying to slow things down. When I list what I do on a particular day or week, it is much less than in my life when I was working.  That is one of the best things about retirement: it is reasonable.  

I love my slow mornings. As a high school teacher, I awoke at 5:15, did a half-hour workout, put my lunch together, took care of whatever home tasks had to be done in the morning, and got to school in the 7:15 range. Now, I can sleep a little later, although my body is still trained for early rising. My workout is now about an hour long. I take time making a far more interesting breakfast and read my morning feeds. 

After that, my activities fall into a few categories: 

I am getting to things I did not have time to do while I was working. We cleaned the basement during COVID, redecorated my daughter’s room into a new study and media room (which I call my ready room), and began a project of scanning and organizing old photos and documents. I have some plans to do some learning activities once we are less concerned about COVID. 

One of my worries about retirement was that I would become disconnected from my friends, especially those for whom my main connection was school. So I am very purposeful about sending emails, making lunch dates, and keeping in touch. When we were locked down, this turned into more phone and video calls as well as texts and emails. But with or without the pandemic, socializing has become a far greater part of my day-to-day life than it was while I was teaching. 

I am very active in my congregation. I planned our twentieth-anniversary celebration, run the fundraising, and teach in our Sunday school. I used to coordinate the oneg Shabbat food after Friday night services, but we haven’t done that since the pandemic began. However, I am still in charge of announcements. I am delighted to be singing in our choir again! 

I coordinate two science fiction book clubs. I volunteer with the planning of the World Science Fiction Convention in Chicago, which will be on Labor Day weekend downtown.  The pandemic made conventions more challenging. I attended a few virtual cons and have attended two in-person conventions in the last few months. 

I am spending more time and energy with my family. My children came home during the summer of 2020 and I helped with whatever they needed. I was walking my daughter’s dog, fixing meals, helping with technology, and helping my son move to Detroit and drive my daughter back to DC. Speaking of technology, I am the IT help desk for my folks and a few others. 

My family involvement includes more formal family structures. My wife, cousins and I are forming a family council. I have become the bookkeeper for our family's philanthropic activities. My involvement in our family business has increased far beyond what I anticipated. In fact, being more connected to the family business was a bit of a retirement surprise. 

I really really like to read. I have been reading RSS feeds, books, short stories, articles, non-fiction, and lots of other things. I have to be careful or I might read a day (or more) away! 

Before the pandemic, my wife and I would go to live theatre regularly as well. We love to travel and planning our trips took lots of time and energy. These are slowly returning. We have seen some plays at the high school. We went on a trip to California and I am planning trips to be with our kids. The more time I spend on travel planning, the more traveling we can do! 

Oh, yeah, and I grew a beard. 

Yet, when someone asks, “what keeps you busy,” I am at a loss to provide what I think would be a satisfying answer. Now I can just tell them to read this! 

For Me, Social Media is About the People

Dear Friends, 

Social media has been much maligned recently and for good reason. I know that many people use Facebook, Instagram, and other online services to get their news, make political statements, market their businesses, and spread all sorts of things that might be called information. As you know, I have experimented with doing some of these things. However, the reason I am writing this is to let you know the real reason I stay on social media: I love thinking about you.

Seeing your photo, comment, post, or whatever reminds me of you. It makes me smile. I fully understand that getting together and actually having a face-to-face conversation would be more authentic and substantial. But let’s be honest, if I went for meals, walks, meet-ups, or gatherings with all my friends online, that would probably become all I would have the time or energy to do – and then there are the issues of distance and COVID. Social media is superficial contact, but it is much better than none at all. 

I rejoice with you when special things happen, empathize with you when there are struggles and losses, and remember our time together. For many of us, we shared school together. I am not the person I was in middle or high school or even college. I am not the cocky kid who started teaching at Deerfield High School thirty-some years ago. It is clear that all of us are growing up and growing old and that is a good thing. I liked you then. I like who you are becoming and it is delightful to get a little glimpse into your present person. 

Yes, there are times when I don’t understand what you post. While this is more often true of my younger friends, it is not exclusively so. I also need to note that my “younger” former students are increasingly closer to my age than I would have thought possible when I started teaching. 

Sometimes, I worry about you. Sometimes, I sent you private messages to check my understanding of what you posted. Sometimes I don’t because I cling to the idea that I probably misunderstood what you posted and I don’t want to pry into the details. I don’t want anyone to think that big teacher is watching. I don’t even have administrators to report to anymore! 

Sometimes, I disagree with you. I don’t often tell you so. I have not found social media to be a good platform for complex discussion. More often, I want to know more. You probably don’t know it, but many of you have sent me researching topics, learning about different points of view, and reading, reading, reading! Thank goodness, I love reading. 

I will admit that I get a twinge when there are significant proofing errors in your writing. I am still a former English teacher. I get much more than a twinge when those significant issues are in your thinking. There have been several times when I have wanted to provide a refresher on logic, critical thinking, evaluation, attribution, credibility of sources, or other topics I am certain we covered in class. The teacher hat never completely comes off, although it does transform. I don’t want to be too “teacherly” online, even if some of my friends still won’t use my first name. 

Like it was when we saw each other in person, our relationship is complex. Because it is primarily expressed in quick snatches of text and images, it has also become somewhat telegraphic. Small symbols may have big meanings. I do read between the lines and I am always trying to figure out if the meanings I intuit are correct. Sometimes I ask. Often, I do not. 

While there may be many people who have been horribly misled by social media, I hope my friends are not among them. I hope you are safe and healthy. I hope you are vaccinated (sorry, that is one of my big worries for my friends - if it feels political to you, that is another conversation). I hope you and the people you hold dear are doing well. I love seeing photos of your special people and sharing the good feelings that come with them. I hope you had a healthy and peaceful holiday season. 

I try not to spend too much time in front of the computer if I can help it. So I know, too, that I miss things. Sometimes I only see a post when someone else comments on it, when it is reposted, or if it is brought to my attention. Please don’t assume that, since you put it online, I saw it. We all know that social media has an odd algorithm that puts some posts higher up than others. If you want me to see something, please send it to me by messenger or email! 

I want to repeat that, for me, social media is social. Seeing you is what it is about for me. I don’t get my news from Facebook. I don’t form or debate my political views online. You know me – I read! I am an RSS-aholic and I am always putting aside articles to read later – even though I am reading a great deal each day. I am never up to date! I share some of the articles I read each month on this blog. 

Finally, thank you. Thank you for making me smile when you pop up on my computer. Thank you for keeping our relationship alive. Thank you for the connection. 

It matters a lot to me because you matter a lot to me. 

What I Really Want to Say on our Holiday Card

I have never written a Christmas letter. This is not a Christmas letter, either. Read on and we’ll all figure out exactly what it is. Each year, finding photos for our family holiday card is not difficult, but writing the text is excruciating. The problem is more than a lack of real estate. It is trying to strike a balance between a positive holiday tone, acknowledging the big things going on in the world, acknowledging the things going on in our family, and trying to say something worth saying. Oh yeah, I also have three really discerning editors in my family. 

I want our holiday card to celebrate the friendships and connections with the many people for whom it is created. If I were to personalize each card, it would take me months to complete and I fear it would feel boilerplate anyway. I want to say to so many people, “I see you! I celebrate you! This card was created with you in mind – specifically!” 

Yet, I don’t want our holiday card to simply ignore what is happening in the world. It seems perversely ironic to send out smiling photos when children are losing their caregivers to COVID, the planet is unraveling, and people are being shot in wheelchairs and schools. But a woes-of-the-world card is not the idea, either. The balance is tricky. 

Could our holiday card be a kind of friendship card, a “we’re thinking of you and you bring us joy” card, a “your friendship is important” card? The values that the holidays represent work, just not all of them. When we get cards that seem steeped in religiosity, no matter what the religion, I always feel like the card isn’t really meant for us – or the sender doesn’t know us very well. 

We send our holiday card to a lot of people. We have been sending our holiday card via email since 2010. When we sent cards in the mail, I had to think about how many to print, get stamps, and take time to assembly everything. Things still take time, but it doesn’t cost more to send to more people. This is good; it allows us to be highly inclusive. However, it also means that our card has a larger audience – and how do you communicate well with a diverse group using such a small space? 

The photos are the important part of the card. That is why I take so many all year long: to get a few good ones! But I don’t want to be a show-off. My card is about communicating not posturing. 

I worry about those who don’t get my card. I post the card to Facebook so I can be as inclusive as possible. If we receive cards from people who were not on our list, we send them a card right away. That doesn’t happen much anymore. I know we are still missing people. Sorry about that. 

I don’t save all the cards I receive. I do save some of them, especially those that are particularly clever, powerful, or hit me in the feelies. These cards mark time, growth, and change. I may not write the Christmas letter, but I make sure that the landmarks are noted in the photos: driver's licenses, graduations, retirements, and important moments. 

Sometimes, I write a poem or short pithy statements on the card. They are never good enough. I would be a terrible greeting card writer. This year, I kept the main message to four words: Love, health, community, and family. That seemed to encapsulate 2021. 

May the year ahead be everything you hope. May you take lots of pictures that you want to save forever and share with the world. May this terrible disease pass over your family and community. And may you know that we are thinking of you, wishing you well, and sending you all our love. Think all that will fit on the card? 

The Pandemic Proceeds: Looking Back at 2020, Part 2- April and May

February and March introduced us to COVID-19. In April, it moved in. I was living in a state of heightened anxiety. After each walk outside, trip to the gas station, store, or anywhere, I scrubbed my hands. I felt like I was being hunted by an invisible foe. 

April felt like the month of cancelations. We canceled our plans to visit our daughter in D.C. I co-teach the Confirmation Class at our congregation. and we canceled the service and prepared to move it online. We had planned a special family trip to Norway and we began taking it apart. We canceled all service people coming into our home. We canceled our plans to attend weddings, which were then canceled. It was a very different version of cancel culture. 

Meanwhile, my book club chose to read The Doomsday Book by Connie Willis. Strangely, a story of duel pandemics was comforting. 

My friends at Deerfield High School were struggling to teach students online. Students were distracted, upset, and often absent. Teachers were trying to balance their own families’ needs and take care of students. Teaching in an online environment was new to everyone! I helped a few teachers map routes through Deerfield so they could drop off gifts, goodies, and greetings at their students’ homes. 

May years ago, I recorded A Tale of Two Cities on audio as a teaching text. I read and taught it. My colleagues were teaching this way all the time, but it only seemed like the worst of times. 

We made trips to grocery stores wearing gloves. We brought my parents groceries and they brought us food, too. Every time we saw toilet paper, we grabbed it! Our prescriptions arrived by mail. 

It looked like we might want masks, so I ordered some from a DHS alumnus whose business made bed linens and was now making masks. I ordered a lot: some for us, some for the rest of the family. 

I set my parents up on Zoom and helped them use it. I found an old lamp in the basement that would give me more face light when I was on a video call. 

We began to meet people on our patio, outside, masked and distanced. We still called, texted, emailed, and video chatted regularly too. We continued our effort to stay in touch and reach out to friends and family. 

I started a group sourced poem called “When This is Over” on Facebook and published it here. The end of this time felt far closer then than it does now.  

My anxiety kept rising. My emotions were very close to the surface and I had to remind myself frequently about what I could or could not control. 

Many of the appliances in the house were running far more than in the past. My wife needed ice on her back several times a day. We ran the dishwasher constantly and it was spitting out strange melted pieces of plastic. I didn’t even want to think about what would occur if the computer broke or we lost our internet connection! 

Before the pandemic, we spent a great deal of time with my parents, and now we feared that these visits might kill them. We met on patios, but it wasn’t enough. They were still not in the same place about the gravity of the situation. My mother would mock my precautions and tell me to hide in the basement when she was coming over. We would call daily and see each other at least once a week outdoors. 

My wife recovered from her surgery, but she was in the same condition as she was before the surgery. We had unsatisfying telehealth visits with the surgeon. My wife tried shots in her spine. No help. New meds. Didn’t work. Her MRIs looked exactly like the ones from January! She started physical therapy. We looked for a new surgeon and talked about a second surgery! 

We were concerned about our daughter who was working long hours on the Federal Government’s response to COVID in D.C. Our public health expert was going to work herself sick. How do you help someone who is 600 miles away? 

I signed up for an online service that alerted me when disinfecting wipes became available. I was able to buy some once or twice. We shared them with everyone! 

Passover was online. I wondered if it was safe to go to doctor or dental appointments. I was hesitant to go into a building for anything! Although the weather was getting better, the list of people who had died grew longer. Several friends on social media talked about their experience wrestling with COVID. I attended more Zoom funerals and saw postings about the loss of loved ones. 

Throughout the spring, we brought in the mail wearing gloves and then left it on the dining room table for three days before opening it; then we washed our hands. 

Restaurants started doing curbside pick up and we began to order out more. I made signs for the cars that said, “Order for Hirsch, please” on one side and “Thank you” on the other. I participated in a birthday car parade for a friend’s sixtieth. 

The pull of college was still strong for our son. His a capella group wanted to make a video of the concert they planned for the spring. That would mean traveling back to Ohio for several days and staying somewhere – and then singing, an activity that was highly problematic. While he knew it was too dangerous, it was yet another loss. He recorded at home and sent his work in, but it was far from satisfying. 

School was still online. I made a montage for my senior homeroom with the photos I had taken over the years. I sent my former Freshman English students the letters they wrote to themselves on their first day of high school. I emailed my other former students wishing them well. 

Anxiety was growing in the pit of my stomach. I found that tears welled up at surprising times. Our daughter called often. She was working very hard both at her job and with her new puppy. 

My son’s college glee club held a virtual concert using submitted recordings, old video, and recorded material. It was wonderful. It was the first time I sat next to my singer son during one of his concerts. 

My Sunday school students were struggling with Zoom fatigue. Our classes were shorter, so we needed more of them to get ready for an online Confirmation service. 

I continued to be tech support for my parents. They received more than their share of phish and scam emails. We talked, at length, about how to recognize a fraudulent email or text. 

In May, we finally made plans for our daughter to come home. Once her puppy had all his shots, she could make the trek. A long car ride with a four-month-old puppy would not be easy. 

My book clubs met online. I wondered if they would ever meet in person again. I had a reunion with some college friends via Zoom. A friend and her husband did a chamber music concert from their home in Israel via Zoom. The DHS retirees, who usually gathered for lunch in town, had an online get together. All functions of our congregation were on Zoom. The choir met on Zoom to talk about what we would do since we couldn’t sing at High Holiday services. I attended funerals and weddings online. While I have always spent a good deal of time in front of the computer, I was now spending much more time staring into a screen! 

I was still working hard to stay in touch and support my teacher friends. They were barely keeping their eyeballs above water! Yet, the school board berated teachers calling them lazy and said they were shirking their responsibilities. It was shocking and disrespectful. Teachers were working harder than ever! My wife and I wrote a letter to the board expressing our disappointment and outrage. We were not alone. The board apologized. 

I wondered if I had this disease if I coughed or sneezed or caught my breath. Was it my allergies or was it something far worse? 

We became Instacart experts. Many houses were on sale in the neighborhood and they were selling quickly. We waved at people on our walks but crossed the street to avoid them. Not everyone understood the idea of distancing, especially cyclists. Friends started to lose their jobs, get furloughed or reduced. 

At the end of May, my son graduated from college via an online ceremony. There was even a virtual reality component where he was given an avatar and could walk around a virtual campus. It was Minecraft meets Legos. He tried it for a few minutes and then joined us watching the polished video presentation that featured video of my son’s musical groups! I think he liked graduating this way better than all the hubbub of being in a big stadium. The concerts, however, were deeply missed. 

Once he was done with college, the job search began in earnest. He started reaching out to people for informational interviews. By the end of the summer, he had spoken to more than one hundred people in dozens of organizations. He was a networker! 

We had Mother’s Day distanced on my folks’ patio. They still needed quite a bit of technical support but were becoming good Zoomers. I signed them up for Instagram so they could hear a concert by my brother’s daughter. We had several family gatherings in backyards. Thank goodness for nice weather. 

For my birthday, I got Star Trek masks and a tin of Garrett’s caramel corn! I ate it. All of it. I read the nominees for the Hugo awards. All of them. 

Our daughter trekked west over Memorial Day weekend. My son and I met her in Ohio and helped drive her home. We rented a car, sanitized it, planned the logistics, and drove my daughter and her dog to Illinois in the pouring rain. 

Finally, all of us were home and safe. For the first time since this started, I could breathe easier. For the first time, I slept well. We would face the summer together. 

May I Talk To The Younger You?

Dear Distant Friend, 

While our connection has not been that strong recently, know that I pay attention to your posts on social media and your comments elsewhere. I am thinking of you and wishing you well. 

I don’t know the present you that well. I knew an older version. It is that person in the past, that child, that young adult, to whom I’d like to talk today. May I? Would you put that earlier you on the line? 

My memories of you as a young person are clear. I found you likable and engaging. More than that, I recall that you had strong feelings. You fought against unfairness! You complained about teachers or other adults who didn’t treat kids well. Your cry of “that’s not fair” was far more than most people your age. Sometimes, you would stand up for someone and, I could tell, sometimes the price was too high. You wanted to come to their defense, but couldn’t. 

You really got upset if you thought people were not being truthful or entirely truthful to you – especially adults you trusted. I remember that you struggled when you wanted to defend a friend who got in trouble for lying, but you were also angry with them. You knew that truth and trust go hand and hand. You did not desire trust so much that you allowed yourself to be taken advantage of like other kids, who just went along with the crowd. If you didn’t feel safe, if you didn’t trust, if you didn’t believe you were being told the truth, you went your own way. I admired that about you and tried to be that way myself. 

Our friends are reflections of ourselves. I remember hearing about how you did some friendship reorganization. Did I get that term from you? Did you coin that? Was it in music class where you sang a song that said, “a man is judged by the company he keeps?” You struggled to find friends who treated you well; who would be the same with you when it was just the two of you as they would be after school or on the bus. 

And as you were going through that friendquake, I saw the kind, compassionate, and empathetic side of you. Is that part of you still there? I hope it is. I remember how you reached out to folks who needed a hand. How you did little things that were gentle and thoughtful for both your peers and others. I knew that you cared if I wasn’t feeling good or if someone was struggling or hurting. You didn’t make a show of it, and I am sure some people might have missed it, but it caught my attention when you showed it to me. Your empathy, on an occasion that I still find painful, was something I still treasure and is one of my strongest links to you. 

The reason I am writing to your younger self is that I need those aspects of you now. I need the strengths you developed long before many of the rest of us did. Frankly, all of us need you now. We need people who value truth and trust, want strong and steady friends, are kind, compassionate, and thoughtful. I want to live in a world, in a country, of people like you, who have strong values and really live them out. We need people who aren’t selfish but give to others; we need people who demand the truth and then act on it. We need people who want fair and honest dealings for everyone! 

I don’t know if that younger self can write me back. Is that an unfair request? I am just asking for a glimpse, a moment, or even a reawakening of the parts of you that drew me to you so long again when you were young and I was - younger. 

We are living in an unsteady world. We are experiencing a civilization-quake. The company we keep, the choices we make, the values we hold will determine whether we grow and thrive, or get sick and fall apart. 

I still trust that younger you. I hold that younger you close to my heart especially this coming week, this election. 

Thank that person for me. Thank you for being that person and thank you for reading this too long letter. I needed to write it to remind myself that people like you are out there. 

My resolve is back. I know what I must do. 

Thank you for guiding me there, 

Your Friend 

Postivitiy is Powerful Medicine

My grandmother did everything wrong: She ate fatty, sugary foods. She never exercised. She didn’t smoke, but she enjoyed her whiskey sours and “happy time.” She was a cook and baker of the old school and she ate what she made. She lived a long and healthy life. For all but her last few months, she was not taking any regular medications, lived on her own, took the bus to the grocery store, and was completely “with it.” She passed away at ninety-eight years old.

Her family thinks we know her longevity secrets. We think we understand why she lived so long and so well: first, she was the most positive person we knew. Negatives glanced off of her. She did not ignore the problems and struggles but approached them with a can-do optimistic attitude that was powerful and infectious.

She was also the most social person I knew. I was aware as a teenager that, if I wanted my grandmother to come to my play, I had to give her the date months in advance. If I wanted to go to lunch with her and celebrate one of our birthdays, I had to be sure to call book early because her calendar was full! I was often amazed that everyone seemed to know my Nana – and not only know her, they burst into smiles when I told them that I was Esther Hirsch’s grandson, “Esther Hirsch! She is amazing!” I know.

As we hunker down and become socially distant, we need to remember these two lessons. The way we approach the world, our attitudes and outlook can shape more than just our mental state. Our connection with others and the community is a lifeline as much as any cold remedy.

As other older folks would outline their physical woes and pains, my grandmother would declare, “I don’t have any conditions!” She didn’t. She didn’t have medical conditions and she didn’t place lots of conditions on anyone. When her sons married, she welcomed their wives and their wives' parents, siblings, cousins, and anyone else who was important to them. Her embrace extended to all the people she loved and the people they loved. She cherished these relationships with dinners, parties, outings, and celebrations. She took no one for granted.

She didn’t text. She had no email. She called everyone. She knew what was going on with her brothers, their wives, and all the children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren! She saw everyone. Often I had to share her when we went out to eat. There were cousins from Los Angeles, children of a dear friend who had passed, a friend of a friend, and the neighbor from down the hall. She made no distinctions. Religion didn’t matter. Ethnicity didn’t matter. If you were loved by someone she loved, then she loved you – and now you were family.

As we face the COVID-19 virus separately in our own homes, I need to remind myself of my grandmother. We are not really alone. We can text, email, video chat, and call each other – and we must! We can wring our hands and worry and curse the doom and gloom, or we can take that energy and make positive choices. We can choose how we look at this.

I know my grandmother had down moments. When my aunt passed away, she kept saying how this was not the natural order of things. Life was not always rosy because she wore rose-colored glasses. She was aware of the struggles and the successes.

But she did not let those things color her worldview. Over and over, she would return from a funeral, wake, or shiva and extol the person who had passed and praise their family. When her friends passed away, she connected with and consoled their children. After all, they were all her family.

An optimistic attitude and the loving arms of friends are potent medicines. They can’t cure on their own and they won't replace the precautions we must take now, but they provide positive protection and power. We need all the time, but especially now.

Thanks, Nana. I miss you, and your presence is far more powerful than your absence.

Our Town and Our Old Videos: Glimpses into the Past

My first theatre production at Deerfield High School was Our Town. I did it because we had no money and it would include a large number of students. Recently, I have been looking at old videos and photos from my first decade of teaching. They remind me of Our Town.

A few years ago, Deerfield produced Our Town again. I cried my way through it. Similarly, I watched myself about thirty years ago on these videos. I felt like Emily looking at my very distant life.

I found the play and the videos frighteningly familiar. It happens each time I watch shows I have done, and I am surprised each time. The production is still inside me. The moments, lines, and nuances of the script don’t go away. They lie dormant, even for decades. So do the feelings I had for the people with whom I was working. 

I found, as I watched the videos and show, that I saw more than what was in front of me. I remembered the students from thirty-some years ago and saw them then and now. Thanks to the blessing of Facebook, I am still in touch with many of them.

As Emily returns to her birthday, I was returning to my own Deerfield Grover’s Corners. I didn’t need to die to relive my past. But, like Emily, I was painfully aware of how little I saw then.

During the last years of my career as a teacher, I tried to savor the moments.  Since my own children are growing up and no longer at home, the passage of time feels very real. I savor each phone call, text, and video chat.

When Emily sees her parents young and beautiful, I am filled with gratitude and fear. My parents are aging. They are doing it well, but again I am keenly aware of time. My wife’s parents are gone and, through her, I have a second-hand taste of that loss. And my students are aging, too. Their children were in my classroom.

Some of my former students have died. I can’t get over those losses. When one of those students appeared on one of the videos, it was a jarring and delightful moment. I wish I could go back and share with him what I know now. To paraphrase Mrs. Gibbs from Our Town, I was a blind person.

I watch the videos with wet eyes and wonder: Can we be the people the Stage Manager says don’t exist? Can we cherish and see each other every – every minute? Can we put the minutia and administrivia in its place and hold each other the way Emily tries to as she relives her birthday morning? I fully understand why she can’t go on with it. I had to stop the video a few times because the view became too blurry. It must have been decay from the old VHS tapes.

We do walk through the world in the dark. We don’t see each other. We take each other for granted and forget the miracles we make and live daily. The least important day is important enough.

As I reflect on my time as a teacher, as I review the old videos and memories, I keep coming back to Our Town. I am reminded of those years long ago, and the wonderful people whom I miss. That is the hard part of retirement: missing the wonderful people.

But I am so grateful to have spent time with them – and to have these memories.

Putting the Social in Social Network: Facebook Thanksgiving

I am aware that there are issues with Facebook. I try to stay out of the political kerfuffles, and I am freaked out when the item I just bought at the store appears in my feed. I wish that Facebook would do a better job of upholding reasonable standards of accuracy.  

But that isn’t why I am on Facebook or Instagram. That isn’t how I use it.

I am there because I love thinking of you! I want to hear about your life. I am delighted to see your posts and photos because they remind me of you. It really is that simple.

Some people talk about the massive time-wasting potential of Facebook, and I am certainly guilty of avoiding productive work by scrolling through my feed. Yet, I leave that experience feeling good. Someone has a new job. Someone’s child did something cute. Someone is having a great time on vacation. Someone posted a funny meme.

It almost doesn’t matter what you post because the words and images bring you to my mind, and that is why I am there. Even when your post is not all sun and rainbows.

Sometimes, Facebook posts help us help each other. Sometimes they are calls for support. I have learned about sad events and funerals I needed to attend through Facebook. I have been able to be a voice in the chorus of support through Facebook. I have been able to reach out through Facebook.

I understand that we get bent out of shape about far more consequential issues. They are important. We need to address them. We must examine all information, on and offline, through a critical lens. We must hold each other and our communication vehicles responsible.

But my Facebook use does not have that kind of weight. I'm here to wish people a happy birthday. I'm here because, as I have written many times before, I'm not good at letting go. The information on Facebook gives me a momentary glimpse into the lives of my former students, colleagues, friends, relatives, and people who live near and far, almost all of whom I do not get to see regularly.

A friend said to me that he thought Facebook was problematic because it provided the illusion of closeness. We get some photos or words and thus feel connected when we should really pick up the phone or go visit someone. It is a cheat and a trap. I see his point.

But I am not sure I would or could have personal contact with many of my Facebook friends. That isn’t to say I wouldn’t want to, but it is not feasible. Sometimes all I really want or need is a picture or a few words. Sometimes, I call and we go out for lunch or a walk. There is a place for both.

I love meeting up with friends. Yet, many of my Facebook relationships are not that kind. Our connection on Facebook is superficial – and that is enough. It makes me feel happy to just think of you and get a tiny window into your experience.

And for that I am very thankful.