Together

Together

By Charles E. Kraus

Our children and grandchildren live in Northern California.  "Only a plane ride away," we used to say, heading again and again to the airport.  Either to board a flight or pick up arriving family members.  For the past year, these trips have been curtailed.  But my wife and I have now booked tickets.  Not virtual tickets.  Actual tickets for an actual visit. We are feeling tentative.  And giddy.

Back in them old days, my concern about air quality had to do with smog levels, with gaseous air pollutants such as carbon monoxide.  Now it is not so much about forest fires and industrial waste.  It's about people exhaling, especially on planes.

We've revised our travel reservations three times.  So far.  These are rethinks.  Will our shots be fully effective by mid April?  May 1st?  Should we wait until a larger percentage of the public has been inoculated?  Late Spring?  Summer?  Our grandchildren are learning that the word "soon" is an expandable concept.  Like them, I need a hug.

Of course, there is no such thing as a virtual hug.  Hugging is one of the physical elements that has gone missing during our too numerous to mention family Zoomethons.  About fifty years ago, Ashley Montagu published a book titled Touching.  In it he advanced the theory that physical contact, tactile experience, was one of the essential methods people employed to communicate.  That touch provided unique and important emotional messaging.  Let me tell you, we've been out of touch.

Our grandchildren have become quite skilled at participating in virtual family interactions.  They display lots of artwork and demonstrate ever increasing skill levels on bicycles and scooters.  To keep up with this, their parents have substantially honed videography techniques.

Alice, who is almost seven, is now qualified (and certified by her mother and father) to borrow an iPhone and take us on a tour of the house.  We generally end up at the hamster cage where she gets her new pet to demonstrate its prowess on the rodent ferris wheel .  Three-year-old Lila wants Bubbie, her grandmother, to read another story.  My wife has gotten pretty good at holding the book so illustrations fill the screen.  If she falters, Lila takes on the role of director.  "Higher," she says, "More up."  Not only does this kid understand camera dynamics at our end, she is quite capable of directing her selfies.   

Zoom and other visual chat systems have built-in filters designed to improve screen appearance.  On camera, I seem to be a little less wrinkled, my aging skin not so blotchy.  And because audio is adjustable, nobody at the other end has heard me say, louder, speak up, can't hear you.  I'm hoping that when we finally arrive for our in-person visit, family members won't be asking themselves if it's really me.   

Fortunately, my hugging techniques remain constant, so I should be able to prove my identity.