As I spend more and more time out in the park, I’m struck by how many families pass me by. Whereas in the past, to be sure, the park was peopled with some families, the dominant population was solitary walkers, joggers and bikers.
These days, I am constantly encountering clusters of families; a dad teaching his child how to play ball; parents and children drawing a chalk rendered racetrack on the paved path for them to race their toy cars on; swinging on the swings, picnicking; or hanging a bird feeder in a tree.
I see this and I wonder when this coronavirus era is over, whether some of the good lessons or new habits or hobbies or priorities that the coronavirus made room for, will stick.
Then you see the news stories about meals provided by the city so no New Yorker goes hungry, a TV add emphasizing how crucial it is that if coronavirus symptoms appear to hurry to the hospital (with the added qualifier encouraging illegal immigrants not to worry about coming to receive treatment), the anxiety and suffering of so many, be it mental anguish or economic worry about supporting themselves and their families.
This pandemic has paused all of our lives and caused us to reframe and redefine so much of what is most important to us.
We are all living quieter lives.
Expectations for lifecycle events have been adjusted. There was a powerful depiction of a wedding and the impact of social distancing. The bride and groom, sartorially outfitted in bridal gown and suit, hand in hand, walking down an aisle — in a huge, empty, vaulted room. You could almost hear the echo of emptiness. But then something different catches your attention: the surrounding rows of wooden pews are indeed empty, but photos of each of their guest’s faces are taped to the seats. So surrounding the bride and groom are disembodied visages, each of their guests, there with them in spirit.
On the other hand, the other day a friend called in tears after witnessing her three-year-old son, who had adjusted to school transitions, struggle with the loneliness of missing his friends and teachers. When his “zoom school,” which is significantly briefer than the regular school day, was disconnected and the virtual faces of his playmates and teacher gone, he cried out, “two more minutes.”
How different this coronavirus path is for each of us, depending on the angle or view from our seat in life; depending on where we’re at.
I came across the following quote, author unknown, I want to share with you:
We Are Not In The Same Boat
I heard that we are all in the same boat, but it’s not like that. We are in the same storm, but not in the same boat.
Your ship could be shipwrecked and mine might not be. Or vice versa. For some, quarantine is optimal. A moment of reflection, of reconnecting, easy in flip-flops, with a cocktail or coffee. For others, this is a desperate financial and family crisis.
For some who live alone, they’re facing endless loneliness. While for others, it is peace, rest and time with their mothers, fathers, sons and daughters.
With the $600 weekly increase in unemployment, some are bringing in more money to their households than they ever were working, while others are working more hours for less money due to payment cuts or loss in sales.
Some families of four just received $3,400 from the stimulus while other families of four saw $0.
Some were concerned about getting a certain candy for Easter [substitute Passover or Shabbat], while others are concerned whether there would be enough bread, milk, and eggs for the weekend.
Some want to go back to work, because they don’t qualify for unemployment, and are running out of money. Others want to kill those who break the quarantine.
Some are home spending two to three hours a day helping their children with online schooling, while others are spending two to three hours a day to educating their children on top of a 10 to 12 hour work day.
Some have experienced the near-death of the virus, some have already lost someone from it, and some are not sure whether their loved ones are going to make it. Others don’t believe this is a big deal.
Some have faith in G-d and expect miracles during this 2020. Others say the worst is yet to come.
So, friends, we are not in the same boat.
We are going through a time where our perceptions and needs are completely different. Each of us will emerge, in our own way, from the storm.
It is very important to see beyond what is seen and what the first glance might be; not just looking, but actually seeing.
We are all on different ships during this storm, experiencing a very different journey.
May each of our ships reach safe shores.
