On Solitude
It’s an overcast, but pleasant, Saturday morning and it’s the first morning since we have been in Ithaca, having arrived here twelve days ago, that we are totally alone in the place. We started with Gary & Oswaldo here for four days, then Josh & Haj and their kids for three, then off to NYC for three, then Ann, Chris and their pal John for three. This Saturday is our only day when we will be totally alone here since Carolyn & John will arrive with the grandgerms tomorrow, and thereafter we just add to the cast of characters that are joining us in the coming ten days. In their order of arrival, we expect to be hosting friends Gary & Oswaldo, eldest son Roger & Valene, son Thomas, friend Candice and friends Matthew & Phillip. If you add cousin Pete & Nancy, who are local and actually hosting three of our friends at their house, that brings the total to sixteen people we will have here by next Friday. That gathering day is July 2nd and its both the start of the long Independence Day Weekend and Kim’s birthday. As I look around this deck and pool patio I see twenty chairs on the deck at three tables and another fourteen places to sit around the pool. Given Ithaca weather it is noteworthy that at least sixteen of those chairs can have some form of overhead protection from rain between the awnings and umbrellas. Indoors we can also actually seat sixteen between the two tables and one counter. I was prepared to quote Roy Scheider from Jaws and say that we needed a bigger boat, but I actually think we have got it covered outside and inside.
In deference to the global pandemic that has governed our lives for sixteen months now, and with the acknowledgement that we seem to have survived it in this household, though we are keeping one eye on Fauci for Delta Variant updates, all fourteen adults are vaccinated (hence the grandgerm appellation for my granddaughters Charlotte and Evelyn). I know of at least two of our group (Matthew & Phillip) that had bad cases of COVID, but muscled through those early days of isolation. Other than our next-door neighbor on the hilltop, who we barely knew, we directly know no one that died from COVID and consider ourselves very lucky in that regard since that number totals 3,190,000 people worldwide and 603,000 in the United States alone. Where we were the early and mid-pandemic bad boys of the world with higher infection and death rates than almost anyone, our medical infrastructure has been whipped into shape and put us in the best-of-class category in both regards at the moment. We are all still picking and choosing (and deferring where necessary) our foreign travel based on the state of pandemic play elsewhere.
So, I think I can officially say that we are back to having family and friends gatherings once again and comfortable greatly eliminating social distancing amongst ourselves, even though we do carry our masks in our pockets when we go out and about for errands and such. I will note that unlike in years gone by when we have always felt the need to plan extracurricular activities like boat trips or winery tours, we are much more satisfied to just be able to be together and enjoy the pool, the yard and the socializing. In the pre-pandemic world we somewhat defined ourselves with how prone we were to be kissy/huggy with one another. That had mostly to do with our level of comfort in being broadly intimate with other people. Those that were tightly swaddled as infants (as was the tendency in Germanic cultures) were always a bit stand-offish, and those of us from Mediterranean backgrounds that were loosely swaddled were far more into physical proximity and exchanging small amounts of bodily fluid with one another. Now the dynamic has been altered for good and we all realize that we want and need physical contact to feel safe and secure in our humanity. All hesitation has been abandoned and I think it might even be socially unacceptable to not hug and kiss the vaccinated among us.
When we travelled en-mass to Morocco in 2007, our tour guide Yussef, a wonderfully warm and welcoming man who had found the perfect business for his natural character and open-armed manner, invited us all to his home in Marrakech. When we arrived, his youngest son, a boy of perhaps four years old, dutifully and genuinely went around and hugged and kissed each and every guest. Yussef explained that it was less an Arabic tradition than specifically a Berber tradition. It symbolizes the trust that people place in one another that they would send out their youngest and presumably dearest and most vulnerable child to extend themselves to others in a warm and inviting way. It is a wonderful tradition that I am certain has an impact on the youth of Morocco in maintaining the welcoming attitude for which the people there are known.
So, today I sit here and contemplate our solitude of the moment. Last night as we were sitting and watching a movie together for the first time in several weeks, something we otherwise do most every night at home on the hilltop, and Kim turned to me and said out of the blue that it was nice to be here all alone together. She was right and I agreed, but this morning I am wondering about that. We have come East on this road trip to see and gather with people. I keep only one TV functioning in this home because I tend to think of this place as a place to escape the routines of high screen time usage. I cannot stop the constant iPhone and iPad referencing that plagues us all at every moment of the day and night, but I can reduce the amount of time we gather without gathering, which is what happens around a TV screen. Sometimes watching TV is a valid group activity with lots of multi-lateral engagement, but usually it is a watch and listen protocol with the occasional person nodding off into slumber. We have had enough of that in the last year to last a lifetime, so now we will only TV watch as a break from our gathering and conversing.
Yesterday morning I had an engaging conversation with Chris about macroeconomics. That is something of an unnatural occurrence both for that time of day and because while I was a banker (and therefore lived the macroeconomic life every day for the past fifty years), Chris is a film production designer and art director who mostly has a focus on anything but macroeconomics. It was a fascinating conversation which I enjoyed since the best challenges to professionalism always come from those who are not hidebound by convention. Chris’ observations were both interesting and relevant though I wouldn’t want him to know that in the moment for fear of losing my edge in the debate.
On the issue of solitude versus gregariousness I would observe the following. In a good marriage the best of times are together times, but the second best are alone times when we are assured that together times are there when the alone time is done. So, solitude as a state is only pleasant as a breather between the voracious consumption of social gathering. I am happy to be alone today because (not despite) we are being joined by all our loved ones in the coming days. Bring it on, just let me catch my breath today.