How are you doing?

COVID19 affects us all—regardless of age. So this week I want to try for some intergenerational support.

If you’re under the age of 25 you might not have had a monumental event in your lifetime—until now. (By “monumental” I mean you can remember what life was like before and after it happened, or you remember where you were the moment it happened). For those who are older, this is a time to tell those family stories about how we got through other life-changing or perspective-altering events, such as World War II or 9/11. 

For my 81 year-old mom, WWII was the first big event that shaped her way of being in the world. She was a young child when the Nazis were bombing towns like hers in Yorkshire, England. This meant they had to put every single light out after dark so the pilots wouldn’t know there was a town below. They also had to ration all types of food, and to this day she goes to great pains never to waste food, which I greatly admire about her. When I was little and would turn my nose up at certain foods, my mom would tell stories from those years—like about how she and her four siblings got only one apple each week that they had to split five ways. The thing is, I never liked apples as a kid, so her story of sacrifice just left me shrugging my shoulders and thinking “so?” But now, amid COVID19, as I watch our provisions dwindle and contemplate going to a grocery store, I find myself trying to slice every possible bit off the apple before taking it up to my son, still quarantined… Am I becoming my mother??? (Truth be told, it’d be an honor…) Will these COVID19 behaviors fundamentally change me?

As a 52-year-old, my first societal “moment” was in 1986 when the space shuttle Challenger exploded right after takeoff. This was the early days of the space shuttle program and it garnered such excitement that even we quintessentially cool college students had gathered around the TV in the dorm lounge to watch it take off. Then the most horrific thing happened and we were all there with tears streaming down our cheeks. It was my first “you remember where you were when it happened” moment. It was my generation’s JFK Assassination. I was 18.

And on 9/11, I was a 33-year-old mother of a little boy who was 2 years and 3 months, and a baby girl who was 6 weeks old, and I felt terror thinking about having brought children into a world where such acts of violence could be contemplated and occur. We sat Sawyer down in front of unlimited videos for the first time in his young life so that we grownups could stay glued to the news (I think he watched Kipper the Dog, and Maisy). Baby Avery was blissfully unaware, although even while saying that I’m sure she read the fear on our faces. 

And right now, we’re all living through and feeling the effects of a viral pandemic. You will remember stories from these times. You will remember what you could not do, but you will also remember what you DID do. Memories will be made. And shared. God willing, we’ll all live long enough to tell stories of this time, one day years hence, to some younger set of people who simply cannot relate… Meantime, to get us to that future day I hope you’re doing your part to flatten the curve and to admonish others to do the same. 
 

That said, flattening the curve is having an outsized effect on our young people for whom cherished rituals are falling by the wayside, possibly never to be rescheduled—things like prom, or the final semester of senior year (high school or college). These students are grieving the loss of some of the most anticipated moments in their childhood. You might feel “what’s the big deal” when a college graduation is cancelled, but try to put yourself in the shoes of that 18 or 22 year old—it’s shattering to have something you’ve worked so long and hard for end with such a whimper. And for a kid who is the first in their family to graduate high school or college, this ritual would have been an opportunity for the whole family to demonstrate their boundless pride. I shared a beautiful letter on my Facebook page from an educator that offers support and advice to seniors during this time. In case you missed it, you can read it here. 

No matter the generation you’re a part of, know that we will all get through this together—6 feet apart, but together. I’ve started having 9AM coffee with my mom outside her cottage. She sits near the door and I’m over by the vegetable planter boxes she lovingly cultivates. Tomorrow I think I’ll bring her an entire apple. My little way of saying I’ve listened, Mom... I’ve paid attention to your stories.  

Thinking of you, as always, but especially now. And thank you for your responses—they mean a lot. 

xo,