Yesterday afternoon I had a chance to catch up with my sister; we sat outside with our coffees and just had a long chat. She sat on the front porch of Navaho, I sat on my balcony half a world away, and we talked through a range of topics, typical brother-sister style.
Although I talk daily with my father, in the same house as my sister, the call with Lynne did me good. I realized that I was missing a bit of contact with the outside world (I think everyone is). True, we spoke about a bunch of "what ifs," but most of the conversation involved the ways that we are getting on with things in our unusual times. Because my sister lives with two other people, her situation is different from my party of one environment.
The significance here is that when groups of people are cooped up together, emotions start to intensify, and interesting things happen. How many people recall their dorm room experiences from college where inevitably, no matter how good a friend the roommate was, someone always reached the end of their tether and became agitated by tiny, insignificant things? I fortunately had a single room for over half of my college life, but I did share a flat for a couple of years with a very close friend a couple of years later. Even with a two bedroom flat, we found the quarters a little too cramped, and towards the end of the lease, shortly before I relocated to Boston, we were realizing it was probably time to find separate living arrangements.
I have lived on my own for about 25 years, and while I notice that sometimes things get too quiet, I never have any of the feelings of "Gee, I wish I could go somewhere and have some private time." I have that every day.
And now, obviously, more than ever.
During my chat with my sister, we talked about my grandmother, who is on mandatory lock down in her assisted living community. In a world that has already shrunk considerably, her situation has become even more limited. For the right reasons, there are no external visitors allowed, meaning family and loved ones cannot enter the residential community. But, the few social events that normally occur are on hold: no meals in the dining room with other people, no card playing, crafts, or anything. So, everyone has to simply stay in their little apartments.
Our family has been collectively exploring ways to create activity for Grandmommy, and we are encountering challenges along the way. She cannot play with a virtual English garden like I am able to, thanks to a recent electronic gift from my father. Likewise, her audio book club service is currently closed. Reading print is out of the question, due to her eyesight. This has been an ongoing challenge for over 10 years, and one that I think about often. Most of our family are avid readers, not having books is not an option. I am not quite ready to go down the audiobook path (although I have considered the industry as a future profession), and have several friends who really enjoy the book listening experience.
For my grandmother, it's one of the few external things that she can experience. Unlike Chris or Pablo or other friends who listen to a book or story while commuting to and from work, then go about the other countless activities of work and family life, my Grandmother really only had audio books for a pastime. She is not much of a television viewer, unless it a televised sporting event. Well, sports are on hold, so the alternative would be whatever is available on the cable broadcast from her residence.
Again, the challenge is the hearing. Due to her age, things process a little more slowly, so listening to dialog can be a bit overwhelming. And, it is not as if my Grandmother is that interested in the latest Staffel of Outlander, or whatever. (I dare say she might have enjoyed the series Land Girls, which is what I watched this past week, myself. Shhh, Don't tell anyone that I watched some soap opera-like show from the BBC, those people might figure out that I watch a lot of romantic made for TV movies on the German broadcasting networks)
My sister reported yesterday that she had arranged to have a new set of wireless headphones sent to my Grandmother. This potentially will help her, should she have any interest in listening to whatever is on the tube. But, in the back of my mind, I am thinking that this may not be as successful as we would hope. Wireless headphones require charging, and you sort of have to treat the phones with a little care (so as not to break the connector or cause any damage). Again, I speak from experience here. This is not the first set of headphones that my Grandmother has had.
Before everyone starts getting all upset and sad about the last few paragraphs, let me be clear, it is not all doom and gloom. It is different, and it is perspective.
My grandmother is currently knitting (from memory and feel) a headband for herself. She knows perfectly well that visits to the beauty salon are not happening currently, and while this may be a new experience for her, since she has visited the beauty salon once per week for, hmm, the last 50 or 60 years, she is taking it as it comes. She plans to use the headband (no matter how it looks once completed) to "change her look."
This coming from a woman, aged 103, who can actually say, "Yes, I remember when I first started using Skype 20 years ago."
You want cutting edge, and I present you my Grandmommy.
On the topic of video conferencing, I am still amazed at how the new Zoom craze is generating both positive and negative things. It saddens me that people are abusing the application, but thankfully the good outweighs the bad. My father has rallied and is leading his Sunday School with weekly sessions, and countless other people are using such applications to stay connected.
Last weekend, I participated in a call with some family and friends, and again noted a difference in how people cope with the experience of isolation. During our video call, a girl suggested that I watch a television series with my brother-in-law in Spain simultaneously, by sharing our screen and our netflix account.
Fran and I shared a smile; neither of us does that sort of thing. No offense intended, but we just are not into that. Back in the 90s when people started having Friends watching parties every Thursday night, I never signed up. I did watch the show with my friend, but he was my roommate and we shared the same living room.
Years later, it never even occurs to me to watch some television series with a bunch of other people. Likewise, I have never been in a book club.
Sure, I like to talk about what I read or what I saw, but I don't have to be with someone to do so. That is what the pub or kiosk is for; a place to congregate, socialize, and talk about whatever. Again, I mean no disrespect, but I do not feel the need to have a party to talk about a book five people just finished reading. If you want to get together, just get together. Snacks are optional.
This past week, I tended my virtual garden, enjoying learning more about various plants and flowers that people like Nadja and my aunt Virginia experience day in day out. Who knows, maybe this will be the kick start for me to start dabbling in potted plants. Somehow I doubt it.
With a little more time on my hands, I do spend more time on my balcony, particularly since the weather is pretty nice of late. And, birds are singing, and I am enjoying listening to them. The birds have always been there, and I am known in the conference call circles as the guy with the nice sounding background. If only they knew my little set up in the kitchen, espresso machine to my right, oven and range directly behind me, a poster of Siouxsie looking down on me from the wall, and the balcony door wide open, allowing the sounds of the back garden to drift inside. My microphone in the kitchen (how often do you read that in a sentence) is not quite as professional as the one in my living room, but it's pretty darn good. Thus, all the outside sounds get picked up. In recent weeks on various calls, I have had several colleagues comment on how peaceful it sounds from my side, all while the background sounds of very active small children come from their side.
Hey ho.
As I finished my call with my sister and began to think about dinner preparations, I thought again about my Grandmother, and how she is spending her time. 2 seconds later I was dialing her telephone number, and after 6 rings (sufficient time for her to get up from her chair, walk across the room, and pick up the telephone) she answered, and recognized my voice immediately.
I love that. I have commented several times in the past couple of years on my frustrations that Grandmommy does not hear me so well. Face to face, she might catch 2 out of 7 words. In a group of more than 2 people, even less.
Last Christmas I had received some pointers from an ear specialist, who pointed out two things to me: one, a deep voice (while helpful in a potential voice-over career) can be a little hard to hear and two, speaking too quickly doesn't allow for an ageing person to process. They simply don't hear and process communication like someone 20 or 30 or 40 years younger. Speaking slowly is where I was trying to focus with her during my last days of stateside holiday, with various levels of success.
But, when speaking with her on her landline, with her souped up audio enhancing telephone, it is as if we are chatting together like we did 20 years ago sitting across from each other in a loud Mexican cantina. (pause while I fondly remember drinking margaritas and eating guacamole with her). With her telephone, she hears everything seemingly crystal clear. It's still a little surprising to me, because in person she might behave a little timidly, mainly because she doesn't move or see or hear all that well. There is nothing wrong with her brain, but the other elements can quickly overwhelm, so when I am suddenly having a call with her on a Saturday afternoon and we are discussing our experiences with the isolation, she is engaged, thoughtful, and curious. She asked me about my work (I have not yet told her of my imminent departure from the company), wanted to know if I was playing "her songs" on the piano (of course I am) and in general wanted to know how I was passing the time.
I though about telling her how I spent a couple of hours the previous week counting my hairs and wondering when I would be able to visit the barber again, and wondering if that really matters. I also quickly decided not to tell her that I had been inventorying my toilet paper and was on a personal quest to see how few squares I could consume in a, erm, session. I will leave those topics for the next time I am at the pub.
Instead, I reminisced about all the Easters I had spent at my Grandmothers. Like Thanksgiving, each Easter we would go to her house after services, enjoying a nice meal and an Easter Basket. Lynne and I did do Easter Egg hunts when we were small, and it was always a little unfair, because the 3 1/2 year split always gave my older sister the advantage; she always found more eggs than I could.
My Grandmother, agreeing that we had certainly had some great Easter afternoons together, also pointed out the obvious, the significance of the season. How right she is. Easter has always been important for me, and here on Easter Sunday as I near the end of this post, I am taking the day to reflect and celebrate.
As Grandmommy and I finished our telephone call, she shared with me how she had been spending some of her time in recent days. She has been fretting on how to wish me a happy birthday. International telephone calling is not something that comes so easily to someone of her age, but that is totally okay.
I allayed her concerns by telling her that one of the presents I would be giving myself next week would be to call her up on the telephone again. She enthusiastically exclaimed that she always thought of the Stevie Wonder song when speaking with me on the telephone.
"I just called to say I love you."
Happy Easter and keep the faith
bryan
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