Immersed with Others

My personal interactions have seriously atrophied, maybe even dangerously atrophied.  Partly retirement which took me out of circulation, but not exclusively.  Covid isolation made a significant contribution.  While OLLI and much of the rest of the world compensated with Zoom offerings, introducing some outstanding exposure to people of professional prominence not previously available to me, they could not duplicate those personal interactions that occur in the lounge sipping coffee.  As our masks got set aside, other people became better able to venture in public places, though not yet returning to baseline.  

With this paucity of personal contacts, made worse by not only excessive screen time but by the moguls of cyberspace interactions and idea exchange who devalued our need to connect in a meaningful way to sell us things instead, I am very much among the many who recognize isolation, loneliness, and languishing.  While FB brings me to Friends, some real, some an illusion, I signed myself off for the month of July to escape much of its toxicity.  As I return in a more cautious way a month later, the distribution and frequency of who posts what, or at least what their algorithm approves for my passive feed, has not changed in a noticeable way.  I had one real meeting with one real friend in NYC that month after paying long overdue respect for people to whom I was once close at a cemetery just outside the city.  Visited my son and daughter-in-law.  A few real chats competing with screens, along with a shabbos morning at Tree of Life Synagogue's current reality.  Shared remembrance of one of the victims with the congregational president was my only meaningful personal interaction that morning.  And my synagogue, which should be my principle weekly outlet of personal contact, has largely trivialized it with its perfunctory "good shabbos, nice tie" as the surrogate for floating ideas about Judaism or about events of the days that preceded shabbos.  

This past week I selected my OLLI courses using their new flat fee, unlimited course registration format.  I targeted only classes that meet in person without a Zoom alternative, making an exception for one half-term course given from downstate by an instructor who did an ace job last time.  Talking heads gone.  What has not returned post-pandemic, though, seems to be those small in-person discussion based sessions, limited to an enrollment of under twenty.  

Could I even retain the skill now to immerse myself with others, particularly strangers?  That got tested yesterday, demonstrating that not only I could but that it restored a personal feeling of having meaning.  I volunteered to check people into on-site OLLI registration, even though I really didn't know how.  This being the final day, nobody showed up, which left me with two other volunteers.  We talked about OLLI, food, inflation, doctors.  All the things that would have made chat in the OLLI lounge between classes, and hopefully still can as on-site enrollment ticks upwards.

Then I went to Sprouts, not my usual store but the best option for premium produce.  For practical reasons I checked out in the line with a cashier.  It had been my custom when shopping in large places to opt for self-checkout where there is usually no wait and I sense control that I don't have to defer to a cashier.  But this time, having somebody else do this, even if the only interaction was to tell me the total, seemed preferable to being totally on my own.

After a couple of months away from the Blood Donor center due to a setback in eligibility, I self-treated the problem while I await formal medical care for it and wanted to see how successfully I did this. Over the years, few things have given me more satisfaction than my periodic platelet donations.  In addition to benefiting somebody I will never meet, since retirement this has become among my most reliable social interactions, even if limited to 6-8 week intervals.  Each time I am greeted, then interviewed, and if my Hb> 13g/dl I am taken to a reclining chair where ladies, or rarely a gentleman, insert two IVs, takes samples to assure safety and future eligibility, then leaves me alone to watch Netflix with occasional returns to check my progress or reset their collection device when an alert appears.  I've done this frequently enough that some of the veteran RN's know me by name and face.

I passed screening this time.  IV's inserted, Queer Eye video started, but afferent IV failed.  Donation aborted, as they are only permitted to reposition an aberrant IV line, not repuncture the skin.  Still I had a pleasant few minutes in the post-donation canteen with some diet Sierra Mist and two chocolate chip cookies served by that room's volunteer.  I could have gone to Costco's or Cabela's instead but decided to just go home.  Having left my cell phone in the car for the donation, which also serves me as an escape from being reached or being lured to cyberspace, I returned to my car to find a message from the last remaining first cousin with whom I maintain contact.

We mostly share my late father as our common bond.  He lives in Florida now, not far from Dad's resting place which I'd like to visit not too many months in the future.  Modern cars now allow me to talk safely with the cell phone via audio boost from the car, so once in the optimal lane on the highway, I returned his call, really needing only a finger or two to do this.  We spoke about platelets, our doctors, his intraocular injections, retirement activities, general chat that too often eludes me.  We agreed to do our best to get together when I travel there, which gives me a significant incentive to complete my airline and hotel reservations, starting with specific dates.

Our Torah text begins with a lot of It Was Goods.  There aren't too many It Was Not Goods, being alone perhaps the most famous of the few.  While I cannot realistically return myself to a daily pageant of circulating among throngs, I can reduce screen time, be more personally assertive when OLLI resumes next month, target a new place to be with people I've not met before each week, or make an effort to invite myself onto the blood donor schedule as my eligibility allows.  As my home reaches its suitability to entertain guests, I can be more consistent with invitations.  Being back in circulation in a serious way yesterday, after a substantial absence, reinforced the benefits of this, and its personal importance.