Separate Together
A cardiologist, an internist, a radiologist, a dentist, and a businessman went on a hike. Sounds like the beginning of a joke- but this is no joke. It was a beautiful spring day and their first hike of the season. They had been hiking for many years, but this was their first hike in a pandemic. Supplies in their day packs for a one-hour trek included the usual- water bottles- and the unusual- hand sanitizer, gloves, masks, clothing that, upon arrival home, would be tossed in the washing machine. They broke into smaller groups, walked six feet apart, and when it was time for a break, they maintained physical distancing. Their physical health was maintained and their mental health was restored. Welcome to the new hiking normal.
Individual, as well as team sports, have evaporated or are on hold. March Madness brackets remain empty. The basketball and hockey seasons are gone; opening day for baseball has past. The summer Olympics, the Boston Marathon, NASCAR, soccer, and foot races throughout the world have been scrapped. While we suffer and deal with the anxieties that accompany the pandemic, we can feel relieved that the mating habits of amphibians in West Yorkshire England will be spared due to the cancelation of the annual evening road race.
We are physically distancing from one another- crossing the street when we encounter friends, neighbors, and dog walkers. We try to connect more socially and emotionally by scaffolding individual skills, talents, and interests into group activities. New technology, glitches, insecure sites, hacks, or unexpected zoombombing complicates team maintenance.
Being a team member in our personal or professional lives is part of human behavior. But it requires effort, time and patience to build our villages. Using concentric circles helps to map out our teams: family members, acquaintances, friends, colleagues, retailers, and even total strangers. We count on all of these people at any given time in our lives and hope others include us on their team maps.
At home, teams extend beyond the nuclear family to include people who care for our homes, children or parents. Physicians, plumbers, electricians, hairdressers, and manicurists are part of our home and personal teams. Workplace teams are generally more limited with more defined. roles, but everyone on any of our teams, at any given time, is essential.
The Sunday New York Times contains many of my favorite teams, AKA sections. Arts & Leisure, Travel, Sports, the Book Review and Business sections seem less relevant and go directly into the recycling bin. Broadway and theaters are dark and travel to exotic or even local spots are suspended. There are few statistics to hang my baseball cap on. Following declining numbers in financial portfolios is painful. The Book Review Section is inviting, but many of us are too distracted to be drawn into a book. And with weddings on hold, reading about unlikely introductions that led to magical moments brings no vicarious enjoyment. Modern Love, Social Q’s and the crossword puzzle will have to carry me through the week.
While we cherish our professional and personal teams many of us feel the loss of leadership in this administration and their teams. Caught in a federal revolving door, are people who tell the truth, challenge the President, and find themselves in ever-growing unemployment lines. We are blindfolded archers standing in the range aiming our bows at targets in the dark of night trying to avoid disease or death while seeking the facts.
The President is his own team. He disassembled the pandemic team and withdrew its funding because he does not read or value the knowledge of previous administrations, scientists, physicians, or staff. He alone can fix it! His claim for being number one on Facebook is a pipe dream, just ask Christiano Ronaldo. White House briefings are classic examples of rambling riffs, word salads, or attacks on truth seeking journalists.
There is, however, a growing number of awe-inspiring hospital teams we cannot join- we are unqualified or unworthy. They are our COVID-19 frontliners: physicians, nurses, EMTs, pulmonary and respiratory specialists, phlebotomists, administrators, police, firefighters, or morticians. They are working around the clock to keep patients and families alive and hospitals clean and safe, staff fed. Most of them are working with limited PPE, ventilators, thermometers, or cleaning supplies. They go home for a few hours of rest and put themselves and their families at risk.
Most of us are dealing with feelings of helplessness, fear, or loss. We do what we can to sew masks or donate materials, sewing machines, cheer our health workers or make contributions to keep our world going. But it is sad to think the best thing we can do for ourselves, others, or America is to stay home.
Sequestered in our homes rather than congregating with family and friends, Jews and Christians retell stories of plagues, an exodus, and the resurrection. On Passover it is customary for Jews to discuss what makes this night different from all other nights. This year it is indeed different from all others. We acknowledge those who suffered at the hands of evil and those who secretly celebrated their traditions behind closed doors, in basements, ghettos, or in concentration camps.
What unites us all is our celebration of freedom, rebirth, the renewal of spirit, and hope. But places at both Seder tables and Easter dinners, and boxes on Zoom screens will remain empty. Missing are friends and loved ones, those from around the world who succumbed to this disease, those fighting for our survival, and those who work around the clock to bring food to our tables.
Humans have suffered, and to an extent, accepted thousands of years of religious, racial, gender, and social discrimination and persecution. This year we have a chance to break the cycle, do more than acknowledge suffering, and take steps to change our broken system.
