This guest column was written by Lynne Foster Shifriss of Bloomington, Indiana. Shifriss is a retired copy editor from The Herald-Times, and now knits, bakes, does political volunteer work and helps take care of two-year-old twin granddaughters.
Connections. Recently, I saw a small felted-wool sculpture in an online catalog of the Persisterhood Workshop. That’s a feminist crafting group here in Bloomington, Indiana, which contributes proceeds from sales to women’s groups.
I wanted to buy the “tree goddess” sculpture as a gift for our daughter Abby, but
it was sold. The artist, Gail Bray, agreed to make another for me, in support of Persisterhood Workshop.
Our
Abby lives in Fort Collins, Colorado, and is quite the lover of the outdoors.
Often on weekend hiking and camping trips with her women friends, she has also
been known to take her hammock into the nearby Rockies and spend a quiet
afternoon among the trees.
Abby recently sent our family a link to a New York Times podcast about Suzanne Simard, a scientist whose field is the connection between different trees and organisms in the forest. And they are certainly interconnected in fascinating ways. Listen to the podcast here.
I was delighted to remember, as I listened to the tale of the trees and their connections, that the little tree goddess would be delivered to our home soon.
I bought a copy of the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Overstory by Richard Powers to give to Abby with the tree goddess figure, as the book references the work (in a fictional character) of Suzanne Simard, the scientist in the podcast.
I then discovered that the artist was originally inspired to make the figure by reading that book.
A gift from an online catalog, communication via email, a podcast shared via text message. Learning about communication in a deep and different way. A wonderful circle, a present delivered by a woman I have never met in person. Connections.
In an NPR broadcast years ago, someone said that the Internet would make us define community differently.
I often think of that now. Even the trees of the forest live in community. We just didn’t realize it.
We humans long for hugs, for telling stories around the dinner table, for being physically present at theater, concerts, religious services, lectures.
And yet, our sense of community has evolved in the ways that we connect over Zoom, Facetime, social media.
I like the “renewal” service at our synagogue. Meeting over Zoom is limiting in some ways, but our services sometimes include a friend who now lives in Washington, D.C.; a former member now in Louisville; as well as friends who graduated from Indiana University’s music school and now teach and perform with a home and jobs based in Ireland.
Our dear daughter-in-law Laura recently coordinated a Zoom holiday party for her company, Evans Consulting. Two weeks prior, she sent out “mocktail” recipes so everyone would have time to get ingredients. Gift baskets with snacks were delivered to everyone’s homes. People were encouraged to dress up or wear an ugly sweater for the party.
I
was in and out of the room helping with our twin two-year-old grand-daughters
and missed some of the Zoom party, so I asked Laura to go through the program:
“We had a segment called ‘Holiday Traditions Around the World’ and showcased
China (Chinese New Year and dumpling making); Portugal (traditional Portuguese
Christmas dinner); Germany (glühwein and advent calendars); India (Diwali and
the start of the auspicious time of year and wedding season); and Jewish
traditions for Hanukkah, including eating latkes and lighting the menorah.”
People were so creative! They included recipes, a game, an Indian wedding video and an interview with a woman’s Portuguese grandparents!
Yes, the employees no doubt missed the traditional dancing at the holiday party, but the shared stories were charming and deeply meaningful to hear. Different, but good. Connections.
Theater companies, including our Jewish Theatre of Bloomington, have done wonderful and innovative productions during quarantine. My husband Jordan, daughter Amalia and I recently beamed a Zoom JTB play to our living room television, and sat enthralled on a Sunday afternoon, pulled in by the strength of the performance, even over Zoom.
My husband Jordan and others created, in the past few years, local interfaith programs under the name “Noah’s Ark.” The first year, religious questions were discussed in small groups; the second year, racial healing was the topic.
Continuing with talk of racial healing during the pandemic, I was at first cynical how well deep discussion would work over Zoom. I was wrong. Using the small breakout groups function, talk was spirited, intimate, heart-sharing.
And while social media can certainly be criticized, it does make communication and just finding things out easier.
Twitter, Facebook and Instagram (and others) have taken down a wall. Commenting publicly to your elected representatives is simple to do and fast. Following journalists and public figures lets you see real-time comments on breaking news, share information and have conversations about it — all while quarantining at home. Connections.
Maybe the past few years will be known in history as a time of corruption and tragedy, or maybe it will also be known as a time of greater engagement and examining values.
The American public is not only voting in greater numbers. Have you ever had such conversations about bills in progress, how law applies to news you hear, what you can personally do to affect change? So many people I know are writing postcards to encourage voters in Georgia. The sense of being personally inspired to take action — even though at home — is fascinating.
I did a fundraiser for the Biden-Harris campaign, and again for the Georgia runoffs, baking extra loaves of challah and selling them, wearing my mask while delivering the bread to peoples’ homes — some people who I know only via social media. And taking payment mostly via Paypal. It has felt wonderful to do something from home — but possible only through social media — to contribute to the bigger picture. Connections.
And friendships. Even though we are not having lunch around a table, conversations with friends are still happening. In fact, I’m in better touch with some old friends of many years than I was before the pandemic. That includes some friends from my high-school and college years. Reconnecting, now as people who have lived lives, made careers, raised children, lost loved ones, is deeply joyful. And we can still admire each other’s children and grandchildren, gardens, delicious dishes, homes, exchange political articles and cartoons and reflections — from home.
I
mentioned earlier that social media has taken down a wall. Recently, I learned
that some old friends of mine were good friends in grad school with LindaThomas-Greenfield, the new nominee for U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations.
REUTERS/Thomas Mukoya
U.S. Secretary of State John Kerry and U.S. Assistant
Secretary of State for Africa Linda Thomas-Greenfield attend bilateral
talks with Kenya's President Uhuru Kenyatta at the State House in
Kenya's capital Nairobi, August 22,2016.
*** A sweet small-world thing. So glad to see that John Kerry will be working on climate change in the Biden-Harris administration. Jordie taught Kerry's daughter Vanessa in junior-high science at The Park School in Brookline, MA.
I
don’t remember if I met Thomas-Greenfield at their home over on West Doty in
Madison, Wisconsin, but I vividly remember the many fun gatherings I attended
there.
I used to say that my little orange VW knew her own way to Madison after my friend started grad school up there. I tweeted a sweet anecdote from those days to Thomas-Greenfield and she graciously replied, and was glad to be back in touch with her old friends.
Reading about the ambassador-nominee has given me more reason to think about the idea of connection. She is known for her “gumbo diplomacy,” inviting people over to eat her gumbo. On Twitter, Thomas-Greenfield said “Wherever I was posted, I’d invite people of all walks then make homemade gumbo. That’s how you break down barriers, connect, and see each other as humans.”
But I don’t think she just served up a tasty meal. I’m pretty sure that she’d be handing a knife and a bunch of celery to whoever was there, and asking someone else to stir the pot, ensuring that everyone would feel at home.
As Thomas-Greenfield ended her term as Ambassador to Liberia in 2012, Liberian President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf spoke about her “helping to reform the Armed Forces of Liberia, to rebuild the social and physical infrastructure and to restore justice and the rule of law.”
But then Sirleaf added “while your accomplishments are many, it is not what you did but what you shared with us as a person that we will remember.” (Read the article by K. Riva Levinson about Linda Thomas-Greenfield in The Hill here.)
Maybe if I tweet again to Thomas-Greenfield, I can get the recipe for her famous gumbo, and we can celebrate "gumbo diplomacy" at home on Inauguration Day, welcoming her style of friendliness and collaboration, part of a new administration representing the America we envision in so many of our dreams and goals.
Maybe we can have a gumbo-eating, Prosecco-toasting Zoom party with friends on January 20. I may be crying with relief and gratitude, but I bet I won’t be the only one.
While it is true that we are now living through a tragic time, I see so many accounts by health-care workers on Twitter, helping to inform us, seeking comfort. People announce a death on Twitter or Facebook and have the chance to talk about their loved one publicly, to honor their memory.
People relieve their anxiety and stress about politics and the pandemic by humor and jokes on social media.
The health and economic and emotional situations have been sad, challenging, frightening and anger-inducing in 2020.
But the creativity in creating new ways of connection is beautiful.
Sirleaf said of Thomas-Greenfield, “… it is not what you did but what you shared with us as a person that we will remember.”
We may be doing it differently, but we are sharing who we are, what is important.
We are sharing our dark nights of fear, the happy photographs of far-away loved ones.
We are sharing recipes and books and articles.
We are learning from each other in threads on Twitter, in comment conversations on Facebook.
We are telling our reps what we think.
We are crowdfunding for people who need help.
We are understanding, I think, more than ever, how important connection is.
Maybe, in this time of pandemic, we have learned even more to share who we are as people.
As I deliver my challah sometimes, a customer will open the door to see the bag I’ve left on the porch.
I stand with my mask on, a safe social-distance away, and cross my arms across my chest, in a “hug” gesture. And they do the same.
I hope my smile can be seen in my eyes.
