“In or out?” There’s a question that’s been asked of many dogs by humans standing at doors, through the ages.
During this current age, we’re asking it more commonly of both ourselves and other people, too. More often than not, and partly because summer is an ally, we can answer it with “out.”
“The Great Outdoors” has never rung more true. Until we can defeat the virus, we need to at least try to de-claw it by bringing our breathing selves away from places where it can linger, invisibly, and out in the spacious open air as much as possible, where it is more likely to be rendered irrelevant. Over the course of this spring, we have come to see many of the regular things we used to do as now either just unwise or downright dangerous.
For example, the way the desks were arranged in the high school classroom I used to spend hours in.
As we hear now every day on the news, while districts scramble to figure out how and if to re-open, the whole concept of what school IS must be considered anew. What are the elements that it absolutely must have to be considered “school”? Is the in-person part, especially, say for younger students or special needs students, essential? Is the term “remote learning” objectionable because it assumes that learning is in fact taking place when in reality it’s more catch-as-catch-can? Can teachers and students both get better at interacting productively on screens?
Before COVID, teachers could sometimes take their classes outside, following a certain Main Office protocol. But it wasn’t done much, in most places. The breeze, the cars going by, the bugs, the sun, the urge to kick off shoes — too many distractions! Now, though, the idea of being with your students, spaced safely apart on the grass, may be taking on more appeal. I see parents wanting to talk about it on Facebook. The quality of ventilation systems wouldn’t be a pressing issue; then again, the air gets a snap to it by October. Maybe, keep them moving?
And how about the way we, or many of us, used to attend church? Oh, wow, does that ever seem a thing of the past! And that most recent graphic, I won’t show it here, from the University of Texas– the one that ranks a whole lot of activities in order from high to low risk– puts going to a very full church second only to going to a noisy bar or a big rock concert. Strange bedfellows! “Wait, I’m with YOU?” Admittedly, the really packed kind of service is more likely to occur in the South than in the Northeast, but still. Precisely what made it feel like community then, designates it as out-of-the-question now.
Teachers are now getting a break, but clergy must soldier on this summer, trying to plan services that meet all the new requirements as well as provide the kind of spiritual sustenance people come for in the first place. It is a tall order. When before have church-goers needed to pre-register or be assigned seats in advance, the better to enable contact tracing if needed, later on? When before have attendees had to hide their facial expressions, their responses to the liturgy, behind masks? You can’t read a whole lot in just the top quarter of people’s faces, or maybe those of us who still seek eye contact are getting better at it. And not being able to belt out a hymn together, the way it used to be, before everyone needed to imagine all those droplets in the air? Music curtailed is music missed.
This summer, the outdoor kind of service– with buzzing insects or a sudden drizzle always possibilities–will probably become something like the norm in New England. As the weather cools in a couple of months, I wonder what people will think about the changed experience; whether there will be a mix of appreciation, frustration and resignation and perhaps a perception of a few unexpected benefits — like being closer to birdsong, or instance.
Almost thirty years ago, Rob and I were married outside, on the big green blanket of grass in front of my childhood home, near the dogwood tree that had grown wider each year. For me, it was perfect; I couldn’t have imagined saying these vows inside any building. We had a tent for the reception, and a whole lot of folding chairs like these. The day after, they seemed to be chatting with each other about what had happened there, in clusters.
“In or out?” The question reminds me of that wonderful animated movie, released in 2015, called INSIDE OUT, about the 11 year old girl whose emotions are personified as she goes through a wrenching family move. She’s a hockey player, a detail that I loved.
“Did we see that together?” I asked my son Henry yesterday. Family champion of memory games, he immediately recalled that in fact we did, in an old theatre located on the Main Street of Lander, Wyoming. His older brother, Rob and I were on a road trip, from Salt Lake City (where the Episcopal Convention had just concluded) up to the Tetons, through sparsely populated territory with golden buttes everywhere, over to Cody and then back to Salt Lake. Lander had just been an overnight stop, but we made the most of it, finding a Thai restaurant and following that up with this beautiful and absorbing movie.
Googling the Disney title, I got it wrong at first and came up instead with a completely different, more recent, movie called OUTSIDE IN, about the relationship between a guy who gets out of prison after many years and the woman who fights for his release. It has very good reviews, by the way. I won’t even go into the number of titles that come up when you punch in UPSIDE DOWN or DOWNSIDE UP; you don’t have time to see all of those.
Things are topsy turvy these days, that’s for sure. It’s hard to tell what’s what, where we can go, where we can’t go, how much to reach out, how much to stay within, what to change, what to keep the same.
I’ll give you a better than outside chance, though, that just being in the open air, with another person or two not too far away, will go a long way towards keeping our own insides better off.