The idea of keeping our distance from others really brings out the differences in our individual traits and personalities. Nothing highlights the introverts and the extroverts more than a pandemic that requires us to isolate. That’s why it is so difficult for some people to stay home, while for others it’s almost a welcome relief and a reason to continue their solitary lifestyles without looking, well, strange and reclusive. My guess is that, during the Black Plague in the 14th century, many nobles were anxious to get out and about, returning to normality with ambitious campaigns to pillage, and conquer, while others were quite content to pull up the drawbridge and wait for the whole pandemic thing to blow over.
Her Ladyship, to all outward appearances, is warm and outgoing, comfortable in front of a microphone, and blesses everyone with a smile. Some years back when she earned her status as a National Distinguished Principal, that was as much because of the family atmosphere in her school as by her administrative expertise. She knew every student by name, and almost all of the parents too. On Facebook, students she had not just years but generations ago greet her fondly with remembrances. That’s truly a skill. However, behind that warmth, which is real, lies a person that is entirely comfortable with isolation. I have teased her recently that she’s been training for quarantine since she retired fifteen years ago. That’s quite true. Yesterday, for example, she spoke to three or four different people on the phone and was physically exhausted by the experience. Television and books have become her companions, while there is a short list of folks to whom she’ll see or speak to on the phone. Her cousin called to discuss the Tom Brady departure, and she spent a pleasant half hour on the phone with him. He’s on the short list, as are other relatives, but again I stress that the list could fit on a post-it. Family is usually covered not only by obligation but she likes most of them. Her sister and a couple of friends are put right through by the switchboard operator on duty. In our house, there’s a tag line: “Is Herself receiving phone calls?”, not unlike what I imagine goes on at Windsor Castle or Sandringham when the Queen is in residence.
For some people, keeping their distance is not hard. We read regularly in Dear Abby from people whose space is invaded by well-meaning family, neighbors, co-workers, and others. They truly wish to be left alone and enjoy their quiet aloneness. Psychologists call them “introverts”. These folks truly like to sit back and watch what’s happening around them rather than being fully participating parts of the interaction. At meetings, they’re the observers. Those that like to take charge and talk wonder why the observers even came. On the street, they’re the ones that look down at the sidewalk rather than make eye contact. In school, they’d typically sit towards the back and had to be drawn out with probing questions. At work, they can be discerned because they typically give one-word answers or keep it short. Their desks are aimed at the back wall. At Susan’s school, the music teacher there – one of the finest musicians and best teachers I’ve ever seen work, used to joke that ideally, he’d wear beige. Just blend in. Please, nobody take notice of him. My guess is that he probably said no more than three or four sentences total at faculty meetings in all the years he was there. In retirement, if you can call it that, he’s busy all the time as a professional accompanist, church organist, and college keyboard instructor. He’s extraordinarily good at all of those things, and while he loves the musical aspects of those activities, it physically drains him. Most music teachers I know are exhilarated by the experience of teaching – they could go on much longer than the time allotment. They’re energized by being in front of a class. But not him. While his classes were finely crafted examples of master teaching, he was physically exhausted by the experience. Similarly, the art teacher, again retired, and her husband get together with us to play cards and a meal from time to time. She too maintains a short list of contacts, and thankfully, we’re on it. Rather amusing to hear her and Herself converse about all the people “from school” that they don’t see, don’t wish to see, and with whom they don’t and won’t communicate. It follows this pattern: “Have you seen . . . . . . . .? Not in a few years, have you? No.” Or, “I almost ran into . . . . . at the store. I had to hide behind . . . .”
Extroverts, on the other hand, love to get together. I’m probably in that category. I end up arranging to meet friends and colleagues for coffee on a weekly basis. I chat with folks in line at the grocery store or Home Depot (although I’ve suspended that practice). I even joke with the dental hygienist when I have my teeth cleaned. I keep up with former colleagues, serve on the condominium association board of directors, and find that most people smile at me at the mail house. It’s not a special gift, it’s just the way I operate. I ran into a former student from some years back that is now a senior music major in college. She invited me to her senior recital in November, and assuming the pandemic is winding down by then, I will plan to go. The extroverts are the ones finding it very hard to self-isolate. They’re the ones still on the beaches of Florida or partying during Spring Break. They’re the ones still going to grocery store every other day, and can’t believe that Starbucks is only doing take-out. They’re the ones for whom social media is a salvation that probably keeps them from emotional meltdowns. They’re the ones for whom missing hugs and handshakes are devastating. They are, simply put, the individuals for whom social distancing is the most traumatic. And in all likelihood, they’re the exponentially expanding number of people contracting the virus.
Our daughter, the Heir Apparent, is a mixture of both of us. As an only child, she likes and needs her “alone time”. On the other hand, she’s a social catalyst – setting up gatherings either in person or online. Later today, we have family game time via Facetime. It may or may not happen for Herself and me because we aren’t really “tech” people, and so far, haven’t been able to download the needed apps. As I write this, she’s giving instructions to Herself Sr. to download a game app on Her cellphone. Judging by the one side of the conversation I can hear, it’s not going well. Key phrases like. “It’s not letting me . . . . .” and “it says I only have . . . . . or It’s telling me that’s not my password. I know it is.” We have trouble with that stuff. In fact, I started keeping a notebook of user names and passwords, which for the most part is up-to-date. The fine folks at Apple tell me that my password isn’t right. I know it must be, but oh, well. It’s been erased so many times in my book that I can barely read it anyway. They’ll open a portal in a week or two and let me “reset”, so I’ll cross everything out and start again. Back to the issue at hand. Herself Jr. likes some degree of social interaction. She bakes cookies for the classes for which she’s a teaching assistant. She invites her cohort of fellow graduate students over to watch movies and awards shows. She is now facetiming her friends in Philadelphia, Washington, and Houston. At the same time, she follows rules to the letter and makes sure that we do the same. My hands have the softness of parchment from frequent extended washings. Even though she’s in Boston and I’m in Londonderry, tabs on travel, particularly unnecessary travel are kept and documented. Vocal reprimands are issued as needed. Enforced separation has become our way of life. Her Ladyship is delighted. I, well, less so. I miss my corps of Walmart greeters.
Continue to stay safe and healthy, my faithful readers.
I'm Thinking...No! 