The Year Concludes: Looking Back at 2020 - Part 4

November started without the kids. This had been my life when I retired, but in March my son came home, then my daughter and her puppy in May. They stayed for more than 100 days and then left together for D.C. 

My children’s phone calls were a mainstay of my day. The boomerang of a full house turning empty wasn’t working for me. I love being with my children. I love being together – and that puppy is joyful! I missed them. 

My son was could look for a job anywhere. He was networking, taking seminars, and doing interviewing – and helping his sister. It was delightful that my children got along so well that they could live together –without their parents- for long stretches of time. I was overjoyed. I just wanted to be overjoyed together. 

At home, things continued as they had for months. I kept walking – just without a dog. I walked with my wife daily and usually took a second walk listening to podcasts. 

Since we were home all the time, the house was showing the strain: the front deadbolt wasn’t turning, the dishwasher died, the light switch in the bathroom cracked, we could no longer use the kids’ shower. 

We were reminded constantly of our fragility by the ever-rising COVID numbers and the parade of passings. It felt like condolences were one of the few things we had in plenty. 

Although the election was at the beginning of November, the discussion about the results dragged on. There were constant cries of fraud without any evidence. I worried that those trying to create alternative election results would bend reality. 

My Sunday Confirmation Class was a port in this storm. My co-teacher and I had challenging conversations with our students about everything that was going on. The kids were eager to wrestle with issues, values, ideas, and especially politics. We had a guest speaker and began to take virtual field trips. 

Thanksgiving was stressful. The kids planned to return and everyone would quarantine and test. The kids isolated in DC, we did the same in Deerfield, and my folks stayed in their home, but everyone had exceptions: doctor appointments, errands of mercy, physical therapy. Beyond the usual Thanksgiving stress, we worried about testing and contagion. 

Since it was just the two of us at home, cleaning the basement moved quickly. I finally got a call from the Illinois Department of Employment Security and filed a police report, contacted the Social Security Administration, the IRS, and changed all of my passwords. It was work to ensure the fraudsters did not gain access to my digital life. 

The election was often a focus. I watched What the Constitution Means To Me. Yet, the controversy dragged on. The president would not concede despite the clear evidence he had lost. It felt like a losing team refusing to shake the winners’ hands at the end of a game. 

We had our last Loyola classes. Our teacher was in Hawaii! We learned with this group for a year and a half, so it was sad to end on Zoom. We are hoping for a reunion when it is safe. I stayed connected to the activities and people at Deerfield High School. I saw a beautiful online choral festival concert, a discussion of the fall play, and a spectacular video holiday extravaganza. 

I was extremely anxious about a dental cleaning. I have rarely been so nervous about anything. Increasingly, I worried that even having six of us together for Thanksgiving was too dangerous. We saw friends on Zoom or FaceTime since the temperatures dropped. 

Friends of many years picked up and moved to Michigan. We attended an online library program with Ibrim Kendi. I sent the woman who cuts my hair a check since I was not going to her shop. I worked hard to stay in touch with friends, family, former colleagues, and others. 

The house was quiet, calm, and very clean, but we were eager for the kids’ return They shipped stuff ahead. Days before they got on the road, my son’s computer died. We talked about backing up and data recovery. 

Daylight saving time gave us a nice extra hour of sleep. We changed all the batteries in the smoke detectors and things were beeping for a week! My wife was feeling much more like herself and we took longer walks despite the cold. 

Finally, the kids returned. I wore a mask when I picked up my rental car and didn’t realize it was a smoking car. It smelled horrible. It was only a few hours to South Bend. It was incredible to have everyone together again. 

Two former students reconnected out of nowhere: surprise blessings. My Confirmation class took a virtual field trip to the Unitarian Church and still wanted to talk about politics. I continued my book clubs, played games with the kids in the evening, and got way too excited about virtual backgrounds on Zoom. 

We had a family discussion via Zoom about Thanksgiving. We defined what were and were not acceptable risks. My son and I were tested at our doctor’s office. My wife and daughter waited in a five-hour line at the Department of Health and their results didn’t arrive until days after Thanksgiving! My folks were tested, too. Great to be negative! 

We slipped into the old routine made new by the weather. Walking the dog was now a colder endeavor, but just as joyous. My son started interviewing for jobs and was getting second, third, and fourth interviews! I organized our annual meeting for our homeowners association. We picked up food from restaurants in Evanston and walked around town. The dog had his own playdates. 

I found a way to let my folks see Zoom calls on their large TV instead of just on their computers, but I couldn’t do it distantly. As Thanksgiving approached, my anxiety grew. Planning the Thanksgiving menu was complicated. We put ingredients on our Instacart orders, got things online, and did our best to prepare distantly. 

I watched Star Trek: Voyager during my morning workouts and Star Trek: Discovery as it was released. These shows were so comforting as the world became increasingly frightening. 

Thanksgiving arrived! My daughter cooked and we assisted. We awkwardly wore masks when we were not eating. It was wonderful to be together. We hadn’t shared a meal this way in months. While we were anxious about COVID, being together was happy and healing. The next day, I went to my parents’ house and fixed all their tech issues. 

In addition to her regular job, my daughter organized a conference on teleheath with her health policy society. The kids and I played Settlers of Catan in the evenings. I continued to tutor, teach Sunday school, and go to online events. I arranged for another distant field trip with a church in Chicago and a Buddhist temple in Michigan. 

My daughter cooked and baked and everything was delicious! I washed lots of dishes! My son’s new computer arrived and he vowed to back up more often. We had another Zoom call with the DHS retirees and created a retiree directory. The dog needed a vet visit for tummy issues. 

For Hanukah, we got my parents virtual tickets to see some music shows. On the first night of Hanukah, all of us visited the Botanic Gardens for a light show. It was great to be together, distantly and outdoors. My wife could now walk through the displays without pain. 

The weather varied from quite cold to warm enough to eat outdoors. My daughter took some time off. We made it vacation-like by ordering in brunch and bringing in a few more dinners. Friends dropped off cookies and latkes, which were special and sweet. We sent notes, gifts, and thank yous. We drove through a neighborhood in Chicago famous for Christmas light decorations. 

Holiday food flooded the fridge. The dog preferred the TV remote. My wife organized a gift drive through the congregation. We had a mountain of presents in our yard! The kids watched West Wing. 

My son signed up for webinars, seminars, and classes as he interviewed for jobs. He made lists of things for an apartment. We hiked in the woods, learned to play Ticket to Ride, and dressed warmly. Our daughter made plans to go back to DC in January. The new dishwasher finally arrived! I started planning the congregation’s twentieth anniversary instead of washing dishes. 

The weather was still in the 20s and sometimes up into the 50s at the end of December, so we met my parents for outdoor walks. We thought that meant winter would be mild; we were wrong! My wife took the family to Rogers Park for a tour of her old neighborhood and stories of her childhood. One the way home, we went through Skokie past my childhood home.

We were Zooming for everything: conversations with friends, Shabbat services, funerals, shivas, and even another reunion of my college science fiction club! I helped a congregation in Michigan discuss renaming. We traveled further from home to try new restaurants. The kids put my daughter’s game console on our TV and played video games together. My wife bonded with the dog by feeding him salmon. My daughter helped her brother with his resume. 

Healthcare folks were getting the vaccine, but I was still very anxious. The COVID numbers were up and yet we saw photos of people traveling. How could they do that? We sent money to our snowplow service because there hadn’t been any snow– until December 29th. 

I was walking the dog when it started snowing. The dog loved it! He kept going outside to catch snowflakes and roll! Snow became a mainstay of his diet. 

My daughter’s work did not let up. Holidays or not, she worked ten-hour days or longer. It was good she was home and we could help her make all the pieces fit. 

As 2020 ended, we were together. I tried not to think about how soon we would be separated. The year ended unceremoniously, but we were healthy, happy, and home. 

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.

Thirteen Table Talk Topics For Your Holiday Dinner Instead of Politics

Many of us dread the holidays because we are forced to speak with “those” relatives. “Those” relatives or friends or people at our holiday meals are the ones with whom we have deeply rooted disagreements about key political and social ideas. We may have additional people with whom these topics are off the table because we fear that either the discussion will become unpleasant or that it will unalterably change our relationship. We agree to disagree and talk about the weather, sports, or television. We keep it trivial.

Here is an alternative.

Here are some questions that might help us explore the other person’s point of view and find some common ground – maybe. Disclaimer up front: I am not unbiased in this discussion. I have a point of view. These questions are designed to reveal the crucial foundation of that point of view. It is my hope that it is a foundation we can share. If it is not, well, we may have to ask more questions about the basis of our beliefs.

All of these questions could be followed by “how does our current government and social structure connect to our discussion?” Perhaps you don’t want to go there. Perhaps you want to limit examples to those in fiction or from television situations. Perhaps the examples are purely hypothetical and we forbid the political.

1. Which of the ten commandments do you think is the most important? Which is the least? Why? Should any be disregarded completely? Are any in need of modernizing? Do we need to add some?

2. When thinking about important religious figures, what are their key messages? What did they stand for and how did their actions show this?

3. While most people would agree that minor white lies are okay under some circumstances (do you?), when or why is it okay to lie about important things? When families (societies) are making major decisions that have a significant effect, should all of the members of the family (society) be informed or included? Should information be fully shared? When or why should we have open information or hidden information? Is it okay for someone to ask or tell you to lie? Is it okay to lie to save face or reputation?

4. What is the value of trust in a relationship? What happens when trust is violated?

5. What does it mean to be fair? What is fairness? What is justice? What does it mean to be just?

6. What is respect? How does one show respect? Why is that important? How is respect connected to manners and being polite?

7. What is integrity? Is it something we value? How do you recognize a person of integrity? How does one repair his or her integrity?

8. What do we mean when we use the term virtue? What are virtuous characteristics? What are their opposites?

9. If you were hiring someone to care for your children, grandchildren, parents, or grandparents, what traits would you want in that person? If you were hiring someone to manage your financial affairs, what would you want? How are these similar or different?

10. What makes someone a role model? Beyond family members, who would you want your children to use as role models and why? What would make you concerned if your child picked a role model with whom you disapproved?

11. What is the meaning of duty? What is the meaning of obligation? What is the difference between them? How are they different than responsibility or loyalty? What duties, obligations, and responsibilities do we have (okay – you may not want to go here)?

12. Is it ever okay to hurt someone else? If no, why not?  If yes, why? Do your answers change if we talk about physical or emotional pain? What do we mean when we say, “hurt?”

13. What is the difference between fairness and equality? Did your parents treat you (and your siblings, if you have siblings) fairly or equally? How did you know? How did it make you feel? In a family or classroom (or country), how should people be treated? Fairly? Equally? A combination? What does that look like?

Certainly there are many more issues we could add to this list of questions. What would happen if we discussed the underlying values and beliefs before asking if we agree with specific politicians or policies? Perhaps we could open up the conversation. It might still be uncomfortable and difficult. But it might move us past partisan labels and make us see each other in more complex and meaningful ways. Maybe.

The Thanksgiving Nest

At the end of a visit, my grandmother would often ask, “When will I see you again?”  or  “You’re leaving already?” I remember finding this irritating. I am visiting now! Why are you asking me this? How needy!

A little more than a week after Thanksgiving, I share her feelings. Having both of my children home, even if they were out with friends or doing homework, was wonderful. The fact that we will be back together in three weeks consoles me only a little.

I should be thankful. I got nearly a week with my entire family under one roof. It was joyful to be with them. I am grateful, but I am very eager to bring the entire family together again. Thanksgiving break wasn’t enough. It was a tease and a taste of times that are gone.

Yes, college students return home. But my elder is about to get her graduate degree and, hopefully, a job in a city far away. My younger has big summer plans. I am telling myself that I better learn to enjoy this new diet of family time because it is all I will get. But I haven’t accepted the reality of the situation yet.

I have come to terms with the term “empty nest.” My wife and I live here, so the nest isn’t entirely empty. Both of my children still call this their “permanent address,” but I think that will only be for a few more months. Neither has cleaned out his or her room or registered to vote or drive in another state – yet.

It has only been 105 days since our younger child went to college, but whose counting? It will only be another three weeks until he comes home for winter break. So what’s the big deal?

I miss my children. That is the deal. My friends tell me that I will adjust and come to love living in a quieter and childless home. I believe them. They love it. They may be right that I will love it, too. Someday. Not today.

Today, I miss my children. I hide my tears as the bus pulls out to take the younger back to college. I sniffle and pull myself together on the early morning ride from the airport dropping off the elder. While the kids have adjusted marvelously well, I am still in transition. Maybe I am becoming my grandmother.  

I haven’t become accustomed to an empty nest or the idea of long distance parenting. I get home and expect to see one of my children studying or watching television. When I return from services on a Friday night, I should be relieved that I can go to sleep and not wait up for someone to get home. I’m not. I wait up anyhow.

Thanksgiving Break is joyous. I will do anything to be with the kids. I went shopping on Black Friday. I went to a women’s clothing store and Bed, Bath, and Beyond. It doesn’t matter. Happily, the Thanksgiving meal is just half a day and I only have to share them a little. I find that I am jealous of my son’s high school friends who have been getting as much or more time with him as the rest of us. In addition to struggling with letting go, have I mentioned that I am not good at sharing my children either?

Not that I am complaining.

Thanksgiving break is a tease. Yet, it is a tease I was eagerly anticipating. It is not as long as winter break, but, after several months, I was thrilled that my home was full again. I could talk to my children without the assistance of technology, although not without the distraction of technology.

We are all growing up. I am just doing it a little more reluctantly.

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