A few years ago, I was standing in the customer service line at a Kroger grocery store. There were people in front of me and some behind me as I waited to fling my money into the bonfire of chance called “The Hoosier Lottery.” (My investment advisor would tell me that the lottery has a low ROI [Return On Investment]). A woman directly in front of me kept nervously turning toward me. She seemed slightly anxious, twitchy, and I made an effort to not make eye contact with her, hoping to reassure her of my benign intentions. Finally, after a prolonged bout of “turn and glare,” I asked her if there was a problem. “You’re standing too close to me,” she said.
Apparently, in January of this year a select few people, ostensibly tasked with the oversight of the country’s health and welfare, got word that a nasty bit of business was barreling down the pike. A few people died and there was a casual warning; the numbers of dead hit the thousands and we got serious, and now — we wear the mask. Many of us now practice “social distancing,” which means WE DON’T SOCIALIZE WITH EACH OTHER, and “physical distancing,” which means that, when we have to go buy 4,000 rolls of toilet paper, we STAY SIX FEET AWAY FROM EACH OTHER. Judging from the chatter on my social media neighborhood site, more people are coming over to the science side and accepting that masks — even when made from bandanas — are an accepted tool to use to “flatten the curve” of COVID-19 infections and deaths. And hand washing, a task that my 23-month-old granddaughter has embraced with joy.
A recent article from Time magazine that hit my phone discussed the ethics of correcting dangerous behavior that we observe in others, such as standing too close, or not covering coughs. Katy Steinmetz wrote that, “You have every right to try (to) correct that behavior, but it should be done politely and with knowledge-sharing and positive modeling.” During the recent “tree-demic” in Irvington, a man approached me as I took pictures of the fallen trees. I backed away as he came forward, and when he kept coming, I told him, “Maintaining the distance!” I did not tell him — though I dearly wanted to — to BACK UP, but tried to model for him the new behavior in light of the coronavirus pandemic.
I grew up in a family that did not express affection by hugging, and my best friend in high school was a woman whose family hugged everyone. I can remember my panicked thoughts while in the grasp of her sister: “She’s touching me! She’s hugging me! What is happening…?” But I grew to understand that need for the human touch, to accept it, and to pass it on, occasionally. I participated in “bro hugs,” where two men grasp each other and — in a show of so-called “manliness” — pound each other on the back, and “side hugs,” and the rare and wonderful “full-frontal hugs.” It is being speculated that handshakes may have to die in order for humanity to live; et tu, huggo?
That woman in Kroger may have foreshadowed the way we must live now. I confess that, at the time, my view of her concern was unkind. But when I make my weekly run to Ash & Elm Cider Company, I greet Maria through a fresh mask and hand her money with my gloved hands. And I was angry with the four other people who were not wearing masks to protect her.
Be kind: it’s the new normal.
cjon3acd@att.net