Parenting Grown Children: What Dr. Spock Forgot to Tell Us

Communication Skills: Keeping conversations with grownkids and grandkids fresh

Keep up your own interests. That's one of my Notes to Self (see list to the right). My point when I added it to My Notes was--and still is--that the more we continue to pursue our interests (apart from our children's lives) the livelier our conversations with our grown children and our grandchildren will be. We won't be hounding them with deadly questions like "What's new?" We'll have something to bring to the table and talk about. The energy we get from actively pursuing a job, project or Zoom lecture will freshen up both us and our interactions.

I was reminded of this by Kathy Gottberg. In a blog post she took note of a book, A Brief Eternity—The Philosophy of Longevity by Pascal Bruckner, an author who has written a ton of books critiquing society and culture. Deep stuff. Gottberg admits the book is a tough slog that wades its way through deeply philosophical waters. To save us the work of wading, she sums up what she gleaned from the book. As I read her post, I was reminded of my Note to Self and how what Bruckner via Gottberg has to tell us about this stage in our lives is ever-relevant.

Here's an excerpt from Gottberg's post:

If I had to boil down this complex study into a short paragraph I would ask:  Now that we typically live longer and have been given an extension to our lives, what do we want to do with it?  Calling this extra time an “Indian Summer,” Bruckner claims that all the great questions of the human condition appear in the years after we turn 50 including:

• Is it more important to us to live a long time or more intensely?
• Do we carry on as we have always done or try new things and follow new paths?
• Do we find new love? Leave old ones? Start new careers?
• How do we move beyond great joys and great pains—and keep going?
• How can we avoid the weariness of living, the melancholy of the twilight years?
• What is the strength that keeps us going despite bitterness and excess?

Buckner offers insights found in the form of literature, philosophy, the arts as well as his own observations.  Peppered throughout the text are lines that illustrate his ideas and offer insights that kept me reading.  For example he asks: “What reasons can we give for living fifty, sixty or seventy years? Exactly the same ones we give for living to twenty, thirty or forty.  Existence remains delicious to those who cherish it, odious to those who curse.”

In another place he says, “What remains to be done when we think we’ve seen everything, experienced everything? Constantly beginning over…Life goes on: that frightfully simple sentence is perhaps the secret of a happy longevity.”  And another statement dear to my heart, “We are always living on a trial basis; existence is above all an experiment.”

painting: Two Women, Degas

 

 

Observations: We are unique as grandparents.

In Lisa Carpenters book, she has an important reminder for us all: Each of us is unique and we bring different gifts to our grandchild and to our grandmothering role. Here's how Lisa puts it:

 Grandmothers cannot be pigeonholed. Every grandmother is a unique blend of intentions, interests, beliefs, behaviors, skills and stories. The only commonality: They love their grandchildren.

Realizing that no grandmother fits the stereotype assured me that I did, indeed, have what it takes to be a grandma. I just needed to be true to myself and define the role on own terms, in my own way.

Re-filled nests: Our adult children have moved in. They don't like it either.

No matter how difficult it may be for us to host our grown children in our once-empty nests--and the pandemic has increased the number of us in that position--let's have a little compassion for them. Their childhood home may be physically comfortable, they may be well-fed and free of financial burdens, but psychically it's a downer.

Some of them had been living independently or were on the path to being on their own. Now, they're not and that feels like a reversal of fortune. Here's how a psychology professor  explains it:

“There’s a sense that ‘going back’ should not be happening.” They were on a trajectory toward living their lives in “a broader context.” This means constructing identities that are “independent from their families, schools and neighborhoods of their childhood.”

With the pandemic, those trajectories suddenly shifted to reverse for many young people. If they’re also feeling a sense of failure related to job loss, these emerging adults might experience a “feeling of betweenness.” That is, “They’re connected to their parents, yet they’re trying to be independent.” This can be very difficult to accomplish when you’re all under the same roof.

As one young woman told a Washington Post reporter, “The situation is full of stress, even when you’re the most fortunate person in the world. ” The biggest challenge “is just the fact that they are my parents. They are always going to be parenting, no matter how old I am.”

This is a reflection of the social and familial challenges the pandemic has unleashed, with 52 percent of young adults now living with their parents. This is the highest percentage since the end of the Great Depression.

Until we're all vaccinated and the economy has picked back up, our adult kids may be under our roof a while longer. Can we make it easier on and for them? A little. In addition to establishing house rules and personal routines with the boundaries that brings, it helps to give each other alone time--physical space where we and they can breathe without interruption or oversight. It's back to hands-off parenting, of being barely seen and practically unheard.

painting: Renoir, Madame et ses enfants

 

 

Vaccine Hunters: Who can helm our search for Covid protection?

I got a shot today. My state tells me I am of an age where I qualify for the Covid vaccine. My husband I--both recovered Covid patients--had hoped to go together for shots. We signed onto various pre-register websites, but it became increasingly challenging (that us, impossible) for us to find and make reservations for shots at the same time and place--no less for even one of us to get a shot. Yesterday, I received an "invitation" from one of the lists to make a vaccine reservation for the next day. My husband, on the same list, did not get an invite. Go figure.  Since the vaccine site was only 2 miles from our home, I decided to accept the invite and continue working on an invite for him, somewhere, somehow.

Some friends of ours have managed the "together" feat (see this post ) even though it's meant driving an hour or two each way. The appointments came courtesy of a technological lift from their grown children. What I saw happening with a handful of friends turns out to be a nationwide phenomenon. Adult children, who are more nimble than their parents with their phones, laptops and iPads, are finding places and times for mom and dad to get immunized. 

How universal is this phenomenon? One New York resident reported to the Washington Post, "My group texts have really shifted from swapping horror stories about managing kids in virtual learning to getting vaccination appointments for our parents." 

I consider myself moderately adept on the Internet--I use my desk and laptop computers for writing, editing, researching and communicating. I use my smartphone and iPad to zoom into courses and meetings; I can even set up a short meeting. But when I read about the manipulation of multiple devices that the younger generation executes in their search for parental vaccine shots, I realize I am way below novice grade.

Here's what one daughter did to secure shots for her parents: She learned a supermarket in her parents' county was going to schedule 1,500 vaccinations and would open its website for appointments at 6 in the morning. At 5:55 she had the website open on her laptop and "fired up a second page, this one in incognito mode. Then she pulled up two more browsers on her phone. 'I'm using my thumb on my phone and flipping between pages, and clicking through on the computer.' "

She lost me at "incognito mode."

Another recent report took note of how a lack of access to computers and smartphones is shutting out many seniors who are eligible for shots. The main way to book an appointment is by the Internet. There is a phone number to call but good luck getting through. That makes older parent totally dependent on their adult children to help them out.

There has long been a technological gap between generations-- oil lamps to electric lights; radio to television. (For a fun look at adjustments to new technologies, see Doonesbury on bringing Joanie, Zonk and others into a zoom room.) It's just that in the pandemic world, the stakes are too high not acknowledge our Internet illiteracy. If we have to tap into our kids or grandkids to bridge that gap, we are lucky we have them and they are there for us.

 

Covid, Grown Kids and Technology: Our kids help us through the hard parts--even from afar.

My sample may be small but here's what I see happening: Many of my friends who have managed to get their arms in the way of a covid vaccination have had the aid and assistance of their grown children.  Their kids became their vaccination hunters. Makes sense: Our kids have more Internet savvy, online search skills and knowledge of different platforms. They're finding hot spots where a vaccine shot can be had--and booking reservations for their vaccine-eligible parents as soon as they spot an opening. No waiting around to talk it over. Everything takes place on Internet time, folks. One set of friends had to drive an hour from their home to get their first shot and a reservation for a second one; another went to a state where their son lived. They admit they couldn't have managed the sophisticated search it took to find a slot, figure out the eligibility rules and make a reservation on their own.

Here's something else, and it's something I've experienced personally: When, despite the masking and social distancing and handwashing, we nonetheless fall ill from Covid, our kids are there to manage information, health providers and other services--from afar but with their superior smartphone skills. After my husband and I both became ill (and tested positive) our kids boned up on everything Covid--calling their medical friends, reading CDC guidelines and gathering information from a variety of sites. With their dad in the hospital and me fogged-out and sick at home, they called the hospital for updates, talked to our doctors, asked questions about our care and overnighted oxygen measuring devices. They threatened to drive down here and were coordinating that effort when I got wind of it and rallied enough to yell "No."  After all, there is nothing they could do for either their dad or me that they couldn't do by phone from the safety of their homes. Or as the hospitalist doctor treating their dad told them: "The only thing you can do if you come down here is get Covid."

It was an odd feeling to have my kids calling our doctors instead of the other way around (as it was when they were young.) This wasn't them being parents who were telling us what we could or should do in the pandemic (as discussed in this post); it was them stepping up to take care of their parents who were ill and needed someone to take over for a few days.

My husband turned out to have a mild case of Covid-19 and was home in three days; I too had a mild case. But I can tell you, mild though it was, Covid is nasty. A month later we're much better but still not tip-top--not yet as fit as we were before we got sick.

We do have something positive from our experience: The comfort of knowing our children were willing and more than able to step up and take care of us--and from afar.

photo credit: Maia Lemov

 

 

New Grandparents: Do we have babynaming rights?

Many of us have been proactive when it comes to our handles as grandparents. We feel free to tell our kids--the parents of our grandbabies--what we would like to be called.  Whether it's PopPop or Nana or something we make up--I've chosen PenPen--it doesn't feel intrusive or controlling to choose our name.

But the naming ends there. Where we need to tread more cautiously is when it comes to choosing the baby's name. We can make suggestions; perhaps, pass on to our children reminders of family traditions. But we are at our peril if we persist in trying to sway our children in their choice.

“Names are all about identity. The name the parents choose is central to who the child is and will be, and grandparents feel very invested in that,”  said Pamela Redmond, chief executive of  Nameberry  and co-author of books on baby names. Although we may hope to see a family name carried on, or would like one that reaches into our family's culture, our children may have other ideas. When they act on those ideas, we may feel that “the link to their ancestry is broken,” Redmond said, in an article by Paula Span in the NYTimes.

Some of the points covered in Span's article:

Discomfort with the "new" names:

We have our own notions of appropriateness and a probably misguided sense that our grandchildren’s names reflect on us. So when our children creatively come up with Nevaeh (it’s “heaven,” backward) or use the city where the baby was conceived (like Nashua), we bridle.

“If you’re the conservative who named your kids Tom and Emily, and they’re naming their daughter Miles and their son Freedom, it’s like showing up at the country club with blue hair and tattoos,” Ms. Redmond said.

The new normal:

Young parents face a vastly wider assortment of choices than older generations ever considered. New parents may gravitate toward gender-neutral names, for instance. Older generations’ notions about playground taunts have become outdated when kids have such diverse names that a plain vanilla Linda or a mundane Mike may yearn for something more distinctive.

Standing down:

“This is the first stage in grandparents’ realizing that this is not their kid and they don’t have control. They have to step back, and some are good at that and some are terrible.”--Sally Tannen, who has directed parenting and grandparenting workshops at the 92nd Street Y in NYC.

Worst-case scenario:

Clashes over names can backfire, Ms. Tannen pointed out, if they make new parents angry enough to withdraw. Parents serve as the gatekeepers to their children and, as I learned from my conversations, they remember feeling pummeled, even decades later.

Get over it:

“As soon as you’re pregnant, everyone has an opinion” about names, Ms. Tannen has observed. “Once there’s a baby, it would be pretty silly to hold onto that.”

Span writes of one grandfather who was so angry about his children's choice of name for his first grandson that he swore he would never utter the name. "It’s taken a while but, he told me," Span writes, " 'I’m happy to call him whatever he wants to be called.' ”

painting: Mary Cassatt

Daddy Indulgence: If we're guilty of over-helping our young-adult children, is that bad?

Scratch someone who doesn't have children and they'll probably tell you: Too much. That would be in answer to the question: Do parents do more than they should for their adult children. I had a single co-worker who dubbed my husband "Daddy Indulgence" for such "crimes" as paying for our children's college tuition. (We had saved up for it for years.)

My co-worker's teasing was good-natured. (She hoped our kids appreciated the gift.)  But still, the "daddy indulgence" trope persists as a reflex reaction.  There's a reason for its apparent growth recently: Although our children's march toward financial independence moves forward, it's doing so at a slower pace than our generation's.

According to a Pew 2019 survey, financial independence is

"one of the many markers used to designate the crossover from childhood into young adulthood, and it’s a milestone most Americans (64%) think young adults should reach by the time they are 22 years old....But that’s not the reality for most young adults who’ve reached this age.

The reality is: In 1980, roughly one-third of young adults were financially independent by the time they hit age 22; in 2018, that was down to one-fourth. When Pew looked more broadly at young adults ages 18 to 29, though, the survey found financial independence has been largely stable in recent decades, with women closing a gender gap.

There are other markers that suggest our adult children are less independent than we were. Here's Pew again. (This was based on a 2019 survey in those halcyon pre-pandemic days; Covid-19 has likely skewed a lot of the numbers and not in a positive direction):

 Today’s young adults are staying in school longer and are marrying and establishing their own households later than previous generations. A growing share are living in their parents’ homes well into their 20s and even early 30s. (See this Parenting Grown Children post.) Some of these changes are linked to economic challenges, while others may represent a realignment of goals and priorities.

As to the indulgence side of the equation, the Pew survey found we were helping out our kids with the basics-- groceries and housing--plus tuition. 

Aside from the question of whether these 'indulgences" augur good or ill for our adult children, where does the finger of blame point? Pew is quite unequivocal: The majority of the public says, as my co-worker teased, parents do too much for their young-adult children and most parents of adult children disagree.

How do our kids feel about the aid and assistance? Pew asked that question as well. Turns out we're in sync with our kids on this one:

Young adults themselves are largely satisfied with what their parents are doing for them. A majority (65%) say their parents do about the right amount for them – similar to the share of parents of young adults who say they do about the right amount for their kids.

 

Re-Formed Nests: Grown kids are moving back home--a trend with a Covid accelerant.

Ever since the pandemic descended on us in March, there's been a noticeable uptick in an ongoing trend: Our adult kids are moving in with us. For some the reason is financial: the economy crashed and with it, their jobs. For others, it's emotional: the loneliness of living alone in a small apartment under quarantine conditions. For some it's technical: they still have their jobs but they need more robust Internet connections.  And for others it's familial: Their kids are going to school by zoom and there's a need for loving caretakers.

There are a thousand permutations of reasons. One couple hosted their daughter, her husband and their toddler grandchild for a year while the young family sold their city apartment and bought a house in the suburbs.

By September, Pew Research was reporting that the share of 18- to 29-year-olds living with their parents had become a majority, surpassing the previous peak during the Great Depression era.

Here are Pew's numbers:

In July, 52% of young adults resided with one or both of their parents, up from 47% in February. The number living with parents grew to 26.6 million, an increase of 2.6 million from February. The number and share of young adults living with their parents grew across the board for all major racial and ethnic groups, men and women, and metropolitan and rural residents, as well as in all four main census regions. Growth was sharpest for the youngest adults (ages 18 to 24) and for White young adults.

The move back to the comforts of the parental nest was a factor during the Great Recession of a decade ago. At that time, family became an economic refuge for many. Pew says it ran its recent survey because it wanted to see whether young adults again resorted to that “private safety net” amid the pandemic's widespread shutdowns and rough economic conditions.

Here's what they found:

Young adults have been particularly hard hit by this year’s pandemic and economic downturn, and have been more likely to move than other age groups....About one-in-ten young adults (9%) say they relocated temporarily or permanently due to the coronavirus outbreak, and about the same share (10%) had somebody move into their household. Among all adults who moved due to the pandemic, 23% said the most important reason was because their college campus had closed, and 18% said it was due to job loss or other financial reasons.

The vast majority of young adults who live with their parents – 88% – live in their parents’ home, and this group accounts for the growth in the population of adult children living with their parents. Nearly all of the remainder live in their own homes along with their parents, or in homes headed by other family members. These shares have been relatively stable for the past decade.

Not all of us are happy to have our "guest room" reoccupied by adult children who have needs, opinions and lifestyles that may not fit with ours. Then there's the wider world concerns. The effect on the economy could be devastating. Even before the outbreak, the growth in new households trailed population growth and slower household growth could mean less demand for housing and household goods. There also may be a decline in the number of renters and homeowners, and in overall housing activity. Between February and July 2020, the number of households headed by an 18- to 29-year-old declined by 1.9 million, or 12%.

If you'd like to see the trend data in chart form, here's how Pew lays it out:

 

 

Observation: Buddha's comfort for these troubling times

Many of us will not be able to hug our children or grandchildren this holiday week. We may see them on a screen or hear them on a phone but the family traditions we usually observed--hosting a  large family feast; traveling to gather together with grown children and grandchildren--are not safely possible this year. While we say goodbye to the miseries of 2020, hope the new vaccines bring an end to the pandemic in 2021 and wait till this summer (fingers crossed) to be together again with friends and family, I take comfort in this ages-old wisdom:

“In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.”

— Buddha

 

 

photo credit: Maia Lemov

Holidays Together with Our Kids? Ways to decide how much risk to take.

Our grown children are in their households. We're in ours. We may be in the same city or not. We did whatever we did over Thanksgiving but now the Christmas-New Year holidays are ahead of us. So are worsening pandemic numbers. We all yearn for a "normal" holiday time together. And yet, there is danger in our gathering together.

So here we are again, grappling with the question of how much risk we to take to be with our grown children during the holidays--to say nothing of our siblings, aunts, uncles and close friends.

I've been reading some studies on how our brains work in assessing risk and bringing us to whatever decisions we make in life. Covid-19, it turns out, complicates everything.

How we make decisions:

Under normal circumstances the different regions of our brain assess emotions and information, tapping into our personality and tendencies for risk as well as our understanding of risk as it relates to our age and health. That's all factored into making a decision.

Covid-19 is not normal. The pandemic presents the brain with novel scenarios and information. Most of us have never experienced a severe pandemic and the many unknowns that come with it. That may lead us to look at how others are responding. We also draw on our personal experience of the pandemic itself, especially if we've witnessed someone becoming ill or dying. Our identity also affects our decision-making. Neuroscientist Gaurav Suri points to mask-wearing, behavior that early in the pandemic was influenced by how we identify politically.

The brain clings to signals that things are normal — supermarkets are open, the cat climbs on your lap, you take walks. We desire normalcy. Neuroscientists suggest that may be why people come to different conclusions about their risks and make decisions based on the interaction and strength of many different networks.

Challenges to our ability to assess risk: Not only are we dealing with pandemic fatigue and the yearning for a return to more balanced life, we're also experiencing the stirrings of memory, joy and meaning that are part of getting together during the holidays.

Decision-making suggestion:

Make a risk budget: “As people make decisions about doing different things, it’s important they understand that any risk you take is additive. So, if you engage in one area that’s risky, you should try to reduce risk in other areas when you can,” says Dr. Leana Wen. 

Kayt Sukel  suggests making a risk budget, which she describes this way: “If you want to get a haircut, great — but then maybe you don’t go out for a meal. If you are thinking about in-person school because it’s best for your family, then skip birthday parties and other social events."

The bottom line: "A budget can be empowering. It’s a way to live your values and still protect you and yours from harm," Sukel says. "It’s also a way to push some of those factors like stress and social factors to the side so they don’t have an outsized influence on your decisions."

These are the worst of times for Covid-19 fatigue. Vaccines are here. Enough of us may be immunized by summer. By then it will likely be safe to see friends and family in-person again--go on vacation, eat at our favorite restaurants and even take in a show at a theater. The end is in sight. But it's not here yet. Scientists fear we may let down our guard and not make the best decisions for our family's health during the December holidays.

No shaming here. We all have different tolerances for risk and different risk budgets. We need to respect that, especially in these times of stress.

painting: Picasso

 

Empty Nest: Why are we happier than our young adult kids are?

Economists who study happiness--yes there are such folks out there--have found that happiness (or, as they define it, satisfaction with life) is high when we're 16 years old then drops off into a U-shaped curve that doesn't peak again until we're nearly 50 years old. For many of us who are parents, 50 coincides with the dreaded unhappiness of the suddenly empty nest. So what gives?

That's a point a Freakonomics program called No Stupid Questions, posed in its discussion of happiness and when we feel the best about our lives. You can read (or listen to the podcast of) that discussion for yourself and delight in its quirky good humor. Or you can scroll through some of the highlights I've picked out. The dialogue is between Stephen Dubner, who wrote Freakonomics, and Angela Duckworth, a psychologist. Here are some highlights:

The Empty Nest effect:

DUCKWORTH: ...., one of the findings from marriage research is that so many married couples with children fear the empty-nest syndrome. But actually, on average, people tend to be happier once they’ve sort of gotten over the initial crying of your last kid being dropped off to college. I think there are other explanations, though.

Why our young adult and 20- and 30-something kids are not as happy as we think they should be:

DUBNER: Are you suggesting — and I think there is research that suggests this — that young people are unrealistically optimistic? And even if the answer to that is yes, can you really say that it is unwise, because maybe one of the things that you need a surplus of when you’re starting out is optimism, because in fact, it can be hard.

DUCKWORTH: There is a psychologist who I love named Don Moore. He’s a judgment and decision-making scientist. And he believes that not only the young, but people of all ages, can be recklessly optimistic. And he thinks that this overconfidence is actually a problem. ...

I think that these high aspirations that young people have — rose-tinted movies in their head about what their wedding is going to be like, and how their children are going to be beautiful and perfect, and all these projections into the future — which are probably a little naive. I think you could ask the question whether they’re really unwise or not. I do think that if you reach higher, you’ll get farther, but you might be less happy doing it. .......

And there is this gap between what we are achieving and our aspirations, not because we’re achieving less. We’re probably achieving more. I’m mean, we’re learning more. We’re having, in some cases, higher-quality experiences. But our aspirations are growing faster than our objective achievements.

The angst young adults feel as they become independent

DUCKWORTH: Yeah, I think what teenagers experience is actually, high highs and low lows. And there’s a lot of scientific evidence for that, too. I’m a university professor, so I see lots of 18- to 22-year-olds who have their fair share of angst. And they are experiencing the decrease in happiness. They have memories of being carefree children. And I think that downward slope, my guess is, is feeling the difference between what it was and what it is today.

We’re very sensitive to changes. And to feel that everything was so simple then, and that you could eat an ice cream cone without guilt. They’re all of a sudden burdened with the weighty responsibilities of adulthood – their first career choices, their first disappointments professionally, or maybe major ones romantically. And when you’re sad it’s really hard to be convinced that you’ll ever not be sad. I like to tell young people who are in emotional turmoil, or experiencing the decrease in their emotional well-being, that life is long and that they won’t feel exactly this way forever.

Is schadenfreude the reason we're happier as we hit the higher age numbers?

DUBNER: [Some researchers]...suggest that one potential reason for the upswing in happiness around midlife is that you’ve seen people that you grew up with having really bad fortune, dying and whatnot. As you said, your gratitude may start to kick in a little bit more.

DUCKWORTH: I mean, the cynical interpretation of that is it’s all downward social comparison. You look at people who, “Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe that happened.” And that somehow makes you feel better. I mean, just having some perspective, right? .... The wide-angle lens on life that allows you to appreciate a good cup of coffee and, wow, nothing went wrong today.

DUBNER: Wow. You really have lowered your expectations, haven’t you?

DUCKWORTH: I guess that’s why I’m so happy.

Shedding unhappiness

DUBNER: .... How would you suggest people try to get rid of the things that make them unhappy and increase the ones that work?

DUCKWORTH: ...one of the most reliable interventions to increase happiness is called the “three blessings exercise.” And you simply think of three good things that happened, usually in the last 24 hours. And you rattle them off. I’ve gotten so good at it. I can do it usually in 10 or 15 seconds: Lucy, Amanda, the avocado was ripe.

DUBNER: Wait. Just naming your children fulfills the three? That’s what you’re saying?

DUCKWORTH: I know you’re going to say that’s a cheat, or how is that possible? But when I bring my kids to mind, I’m like, “Lucy’s healthy, Amanda finished her midterms.” I mentioned the avocado, I don’t want to put that on the same level as my children. But it was a miracle of God that the avocado was actually not too ripe and not underripe.

photos: Maia Lemov

Report on Virtual Thanksgivings: Zoomsgiving fun.

My friend Jo planned her virtual Thanksgiving with her three children, who live in three different time zones, around cocktails. She offered each child a time slot--5:00 their time zone on one of the days of the Thanksgiving weekend. She did not aim to bring everyone together--not with one child in Copenhagen, one near her on the east coast and another in San Francisco. Her aim was to ease the alone time of the holiday and add a few hours of family joy with a mock/cocktail hour with each of her children (and any spouses and grandchildren in residence).

How did that go? Her report:

I pulled off being the "host" on a zoom mock/cocktail party by going to "zoom school" a week before my "test." I set up my son's family in San Francisco (all of whom are technically savvy, so I wanted to "shine") for 5 pm their time, 8 pm my time. I sent them a box of snacks; they furnished their own drinks.  There's a 40 minute limit on zoom meetings if you're doing it for free. My grandchildren could tolerate that amount of time.

My daughter and granddaughter live in Denmark and usually host a Thanksgiving meal for their friends and assorted Americans they know, but not this year. Demark isn't playing around with the Pandemic. So no partying for them. We talk once a week on Facetime, and - as Thanksgiving isn't a holiday in Denmark - it wasn't anything special. 

For my son who lives near me, we Facetimed at an agreed on time for dessert on Thanksgiving day, including my son's family's two college-age daughters who were home for Thanksgiving, me in my apartment and my son's father (my ex) and his wife in Cambridge. Oh, and their dogs! It went well.

My family zoomed its way through an elaborate day.  Here's how it went for three households living in three different cities but--lucky us--all in the same time zone.

I had spent the week obsessing about having a memorable holiday and that obsession meant pre-planning. It was worth the time and effort, especially since others picked up on the cues and added their own magic. We started with a noon-time 3-kitchen zoom where each kitchen (cooks and advisers) baked together, muting our mics when running the mixer, asking for advice on unexpected problems (I cut my apples too soon; granddaughter advised cinammon to keep them from turning brown) and showing each other our pre-baked efforts. Easy to pull off if everyone is on board and has recipe and ingredients on hand. It was more fun than you might think.

The best part of our zoomsgiving, though, was the late afternoon, pre-dinner get together for a family quiz based on photos of family members when they were younger than they are today. I had photo-texted a dozen to my son, my daughter sent a few and my son found some. He put together a slide show of the photos and posed "challenging" questions designed to encourage everyone to come up with over-the-top answers--the more outrageous the better. We laughed a lot and, key to it all, everyone participated. The chat function got a workout. I'm still giggling over some of the answers.

We turned off the zoom, took a break and ate our dinners without screentime or being together.

Later in the evening we zoomed again to eat the desserts we had baked together. We were all pretty tired by then. One of us (he shall be unnamed) dozed off on his living room floor. I rate the dessert-zoom as modified bliss. Maybe one event too many. But overall the three-way Thanksgiving "visit" was upbeat, comforting and memorable.

With the Christmas-New Years holidays ahead--and no clear sign that the pandemic will allow for safe travel and visits before the end of the year--I wanted to share what worked at Thanksgiving so we can build on that if we're still stuck in the same pandemic rut.

Love to hear from you about your Thanksgiving accommodations to the current realities.

painting: Cezanne

photo: Maia Lemov

Virtual Adjustments: We will have a memorable Thanksgiving even if it's digital.

Zoom is the answer. That's what we--me, my friends, our families--tell each other when we talk about how we'll be together when we won't be together this Thanksgiving.

But what will we do with Zoom--sit in front of a camera and tell each other Hello and Happy Thanksgiving? Eat our separate dinners together in front of the Zoom lens?

I have made an executive decision for my family--a daughter and her family in Massachusetts; a son and his family in New York; Paterfamilias and me in Maryland--that we'll use Zoom to have a memorable holiday. It won't be like our usual Thanksgivings where we gather at my son's house, pitch in to cook the many dishes that spell turkey, tofurkey and trimmings, and go for a walk before over-indulging on dessert. But we can still do things that we can look back on next year or years from now and say, "Remember the fun we had the year of the pandemic."

I can dream, can't I?

Putting dream into action, I have started on that road by asking my kids and grandkids to contribute ideas. Here's what we've got so far.

Meal Prep: On the morning of Thanksgiving we'll set up our Zoom cams in our respective kitchens and cook together. Right now we're thinking dessert: I'll do my German apple cake; my Massachusetts granddaughter wants to try pecan pie; my son's family will indulge his love of pumpkin pie. Different desserts but we'll be baking together and chatting as we preheat our ovens, grease our pie pans and get our hands full of flour and sugar and shortening.  We won't be able to share results or even the heady aromas of each other's kitchens but we'll still be together in the kitchen. It's my favorite part of Thanksgiving and I don't want to give it up.

Drop-Ins: We'll send zoom invites to friends we used to see at Thanksgiving and ask them to drop by to say hello. It will be fun to exchange greetings and see how their families have grown and they can see ours. The drop-in doesn't have to last long, but I feel lighter knowing we'll have visits from people we care about and who care about us.

Drama: As keeper of snapshots from our child-rearing years, I have been asked by my son to pick out a few old photos of him and his sister and scan them to him. He promises to create a slide show with commentary that his children and niece will find amusing--even if he and his sister are the butt of the jokes.

Fun and Games: We will, of course, do our usual routine of asking each one of us to talk about what we are grateful for this year. We might add a second round of something silly we're grateful for. But beyond that, we will play some campfire-style games like Two Truths and a Lie or 20 Questions. Here's a link to more suggestions for online party games.

More Thoughts: I suggested a family sing-along--surely there's an app with music and lyrics we could follow. My children shot that down immediately. We are not a family of singers; some of us are carry-a-tune challenged. But I put it out there for more vocal-oriented families. There are also apps that let you play card games together or watch a movie and chat about it. Both Disney+ and Amazon Prime come with built in watch-partying features.

There's also the great outdoors. A friend whose grown daughters and their families live nearby is avoiding indoor family gatherings of any size. Instead, she is planning to mask up and go on a hike with the willing. If the weather is foul on Thanksgiving day it's bound to be more hospitable at least one day of the weekend. Hike on, Joyce!

Still the Same: In years past the days running up to the holiday were filled with much inter-family texting, emailing and phone calling about details--spatchcock the turkey or not,  how many versions of stuffing/dressing to make, which desserts to buy and which bake. This year there is still a lot of messaging back and forth, only this time it's to plan the zoom side of our celebration. Doesn't matter what the details are, the important piece is that we're in touch now and we're looking forward to being together in whatever shape togetherness takes.

painting: Carl Larsson

 

 

Observation: A veteran health reporter puts this year's pandemic-afflicted Thanksgiving in perspective

He's a health and science reporter for the New York Times and was recently awarded the 2020 John Chancellor Award for Excellence in Journalism by the Columbia Journalism school.

All  that background noise is by way of saying that in an interview with a fellow New York Time's reporter, Donald McNeil put the current sorrows over curtailed Thanksgiving dinners in perspective:

The holiday season is just around the corner. What advice do you have for families eager to celebrate with their loved ones?

Do it by Zoom. Don’t let Junior come home and kill Grandma. Think of this like World War II — our soldiers didn’t get to fly home to eat turkey. My father was at Normandy. My mother was with the Red Cross in occupied Austria. They missed the holidays. Life went on. There were happier years later.

painting: Rebecca Lemov

 

Grownkids Parenting Their Parents: The pandemic threatens to make us our children's children.

The coronavirus has been novel in more than it's medical/scientific ways. There's also been a behavioral effect: Our grown kids are parenting us--or trying to.  They are not only worrying more intensely about our health and well-being but setting down guidelines for how we should take care of ourselves--what we should and should not do on a day to day basis.

One friend, who babysits for her toddler and infant grandkids three days a week, has been told by her daughter that she cannot sit outdoors at coffee shops or restaurants or otherwise socialize in person with friends. Her daughter has also forbidden her to see her dentist or go to supermarkets--the daughter shops for her and drops the groceries and other supplies at her door. My friend, who has no underlying health issues (except for being 71) doesn't want to give up her babysitting gig so she has taken her daughter's orders seriously and kept away from all of us.

The situation is understandable in that the daughter, who works in a downtown office three days a week, is doubling down to make sure the virus is not brought into her house. But sometimes our children overstep the mark and we need to assert our independence.

A  Carolyn Hax column carries a case in point of how some of grown kids try to control their parents' lives--or parts of it. It's not related to Covid rules but the situation applies.

A woman wrote to Hax to say that after her children and grandchildren moved far away she went through a difficult period. but now has a very busy life that is filled with responsibilities to others. One of her children insists her mother get away for the winter and has rented a place for her in a sunny clime--all expenses paid. The mom doesn't want to be away from her new life for such a long period of time. She wants to know how to say no to a "beautiful offer"without antagonizing a daughter who is " not one to take "no" for an answer."

Some highlights from Carolyn's answer:

The only way to go about refusing her offer is to just refuse the offer. That’s it. Prepare yourself beforehand to ride out the drama-storm that ensues.

Now, all this having been said: You do note that “I really don’t want to leave . . . for so long.” Is there a period you would be eager to spend in this sunny clime? If so, then you can also say, “I’m sorry, I cannot accept two months. A week, however, would be lovely. Let me know if that’s possible.”

Say this only if you trust yourself to hold that line. Otherwise don’t even suggest it — just stick to the “no.”

And if/when she flips out on you, remain calm: “This is not up for negotiation. Let’s either change the subject now or talk another day.” Be ready to hang up as needed. “I’m interrupting you, hang on — I’ve got to go, bye.” Click.

I know this probably looks/sounds terrible, but it’s not unkind. It’s letting an emotional trespasser know she needs to get back on her side of the fence.

photo: Palo Coleman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pandemic Fallout: Where did the family get-togethers go?

Thanksgiving is only one of the family get-togethers upended by the coronavirus. Summer vacations, family reunions, birthday celebrations, Father's Day, Mother's Day, even funerals--lots of us have been unable to celebrate or observe any of these in person with our children (and their families) since the coronavirus barged into our lives.

How are we coping with these losses? Some of us are more philosophical than others. Many of us are taking it one holiday at a time or thinking up innovative ways to use technology to shrink the distance.

Here's how one couple is dealing with the loss of an annual Father's Day reunion with their four grown children. The full interview ran in the New York Times. Here are pertinent highlights.

The situation: 

Every Father’s Day weekend, the four adult children travel from New York and Chicago to Las Vegas to visit their father, Mort, 82, and stepmother, Marla, 65, bringing with them grandchildren ranging in age from 7 to 20 years old. The annual ritual was postponed this year until August. And then, as the virus continued to rage, it was canceled.

How the parents are coping:

Mort I happen to like my family. But I’m not insane enough to risk death. The coronavirus is unfortunately dictating our schedule. You recognize what is possible and what is not possible.

Marla We tell them, ‘Well, maybe you’ll drive out here.’ But the truth is, as much as we’d love to see them, they have too much contact with too many people.

 

Mort I’m not going to rend my garments and cover up the mirrors because I can’t see my children. I’m lucky to be in sufficiently good health. ...

Marla I worry that the young ones are too young to have formed memories of him. And the ones in college — who knows how much longer they’ll want to come along on these visits?

Mort My grandchildren are in very good hands.

Marla We’re lucky, we have each other. But it feels like we’ve given up a tremendous amount during this time.

 

Marla He might come off as ‘it is what it is,’ but would he love to see them? Nothing would make him happier. [One of his children] said, ‘When am I going to see you?’ I said, ‘When there’s a vaccine.’

Marla And when will that be? I don’t know. I don’t know, and there are days I handle it much better than others.

painting: Van Gogh

A Removable Feast: Ways to enjoy Thanksgiving together when we can't be together.

Two more children have tested positive for Covid-19 at  a granddaughter's high school. Where there were none, three have come up positive at my grandson's college. Small numbers. Controls are in place. Not to worry. But my daughter-in-law sends me these reports--"Sheesh" she texts--to confirm how correct we were to cancel the three-family Thanksgiving get-together we usually have at her house.

I am probably full of more longing to be together for the holiday than my children and grandchildren are. That is why I have taken on the task of figuring out ways to have Thanksgiving together even if we aren't physically together.

A friend says she's asked her son-in-law, who's an outgoing person who runs large meetings as part of his job, to be an EmCee on a Zoom call. She wants him to keep it light and fun for six adults and five grandchildren who are spread out across the country. She figures thirty or forty minutes should be enough to make it a memorable Thanksgiving.

I'm thinking of asking my son, who has a robust Zoom account through his job, to set us up in 5-minute chat rooms where two or three of us can talk directly to each other and then reset the chat rooms so we can talk to others.

My daughter thinks it would be fun for everyone to sit down for dessert together via Zoom. We could even expand that further--to baking dessert "together" earlier in the day. We could watch a cooking clip and make the same recipe — texting to compare notes and challenges. I haven't checked this out but I understand Netflix has a “party” function that allows you to sync up your streaming and provides a group chat for gabbing. For me, Thanksgiving is more than the meal. It's also about the time I spend in the kitchen with the other family cooks--chopping onions, mixing batters and talking about everything and nothing.

If some or all of your grown children and grandchildren live nearby, you can organize a meal exchange. This NYTimes story  details how to add recipe links to a shared spreadsheet, sign up for dishes and deliver the goods. The spreadsheet helps keep everything organized so, as the reporter points out," no one accidentally makes the same dish twice--though too much stuffing is never a bad thing."

Anyone out there have any other bright ideas? Email me or post them as a comment. We're all in this together--trying to savor the joy of the holiday and still stay safe.

AND: Don't forget to vote, if you haven't already.

painting: The Boating Party,  Renoir

 

Holiday Decisions: The pandemic pushes around our plans for Thanksgiving

My neighbor Lisa has made her Thanksgiving plans. Her mother and her two grown children live in a town that's a six hour drive north from her home. For the holidays she has bought--and had delivered to her mother's house--one party tent with roll up sides that can comfortably hold 20 somewhat socially distanced guests plus the two restaurant-caliber outdoor heaters she's purchased. "If it's cold and miserable on Thanksgiving day we'll just postpone the big meal," she tells me, adding her belief that it will be nice at least one day of the long weekend. She and other guests plan to quarantine-light for two weeks before Thanksgiving. Lisa, who works for a health-care company, believes her plan is solid: an outdoor Thanksgiving dinner with flexibility on the actual date and guests who've taken extra steps to keep coronavirus away from their gathering.

I have also made my plans. I have called my son and daughter-in-law, who have been hosting our family Thanksgiving for the past decade, and let them know that Paterfamilias and I will not be there. We will not make the 1-hour airplane trip north to their city in upstate New York. It was a tear-inducing call, especially since a grandchild we haven't seen since last Thanksgiving will be returning home from college.

I am following the dictates of another friend, Jo, whose son is a research scientist at NIH and lives a mere 20 minutes away from her. Although he and his family usually have Thanksgiving at his house, he and his wife won't be doing it this year. He told his mother to wipe the holidays off her calendar--just forget about them. Wait till next year.

His advice is in keeping with that of NIH's leading virologist and epidemiologist, Tony Fauci. He has reiterated on TV news shows that if we don't "appropriately mitigate the risk of a COVID-19 infection," Thanksgiving festivities could become superspreader events.

The primary problems, he said, will be small to mid-sized gatherings held indoors with people from out-of-town attending. (That would be us.) Circulated indoor air could easily become a hotbed for virus transmission. The danger is heightened when some of the guests take public transportation like planes to get there. (Again, that would be us.)

Lest we think Fauci is immune to the deprivations of a no-thanks Thanksgiving, he says his children, who live in multiple different states, will not be returning home for the holiday, out of concern for their father and his age. 

One size does not fit all. Some lucky folks (and their guests) may live in areas where Covid rates are not on the rise, making it somewhat safer to gather indoors (with social distancing,  masking and open windows, of course). Southern and West Coast states where the weather is milder can avoid the indoor issue.

Here's how a professor of civil and environmental engineering explains the outdoor advantage:

If you’re [ourdoors] standing right next to someone else, there won’t be enough time for sun and heat to break the virus down before you breathe it in. But there is enough time for the wind to blow it away.

And a point on relativity the professor makes:

Neither “indoors” nor “outdoors” is universally safe. Indoors with a small number of people and a good ventilation system bringing fresh air in at least six times an hour is a different risk than indoors in a large group singing without good ventilation. Outside at a protest, masked up and walking, is a different risk than unmasked and packed side-by-side into a football stadium.

For more customized advice and guidance on making Thanksgiving plans, here's a link to the CDC's suggestions for celebrating fall and winter holidays during the pandemic.

Stay safe. And not too sad.

Safety Rules for Thanksgiving Dinner: It's not about the turkey

In ordinary times, Thanksgiving safety advice starts with the proper way to thaw the turkey. You don't want it to become a salmonella spreader.

These are not ordinary times. Safety now has to do with keeping the holiday get-together from becoming a Covid superspreader. 

Many of us have been following solid public health advice from the CDC and NIH's Tony Fauci: We limit our socializing to outdoor spaces where we can rely on breezes to refresh the air around our socially-distanted selves. We wear our masks and keep social, non-family groups to four people--oh, maybe with an occasional one or two more trusted friends or family who have been following the coronavirus rules as well.

That's what's helped get us out of the house and through the past three or four months without any devastating illness. We're also fortunate that the area in which we live has a low infection rate. That makes us feel safer about running into a Starbucks to pick up a coffee  or a Panera for a sandwich to eat in a park. But does that mean we should feel safe about our traditional Thanksgiving get-together with friends and family?

The CDC doesn't think so. Its director, Dr. Robert Redfield told an October 13 conference call of governors that the current threat "is actually acquisition of infection through small household gatherings." Then he added his worry about the future: "Particularly with Thanksgiving coming up, we think it's really important to stress the vigilance of these continued mitigation steps in the household setting."

Outdoor dinners would be a safe work-around. But for those of us in more northerly states, the warm, sunny days are dwindling. Heat lamps could take the chill off a 50- or 60-degree outdoor dinner but the 40s and below are something else. Plus there's rain and snow and other vagaries of late November weather. (Don't rule out hurricanes this year, either.)

As a Northeasterner whose children live in New England, I figure if there's a family Thanksgiving dinner in my 2020 future it's going to be indoors. But the odds of catching coronavirus are about 20 times higher indoors.

Is there a way to make Thanksgiving get-togethers safe?

Here's what I've learned: The two dealmakers (or breakers) seem to be size of the group and infection rate of the community. This informative article in the Atlantic wasn't focused on Thanksgiving directly, but the discussion in it applies to any indoor gathering. It offered this caveat from a medical expert who was in a quandary over what to do about an indoor dinner invitation she had: “It's just too complicated to figure it out on your own.”

We can try, starting with the simpler point of size: Smaller is better. Not just because it limits the number of people exposed to each other (and everyone they've been exposed to). Fewer people mean we can spread out and keep six feet or more distance while we pop chunks of candied yams, slices of cranberry bread and bites of turkey into our unmasked mouths. Forget about a meal at the dining room table. Think family room or living room with dinner plates on laps. 

The trickier issue is community infection rate. That is, how many new Covid-19 cases are in your area and the one you're traveling to. Public health experts don't agree on what level or rate makes one place safer than another. Some say safe is a test positivity rate below 5 percent and only 5 to 10 new cases a day per 100,000 people.  A health-policy professor at Harvard, Tom Tsai, peg the latter number slightly higher, at 25 cases per 100,000.

The real problem is that the numbers are hard to come by. There is no official centralized source. I've leaned on this New York Times daily counter to stay current on where the infection rate is rising or falling. You can poke around the site and get county by county cuurent counts. There are a number of other websites, such as GlobalEpidemics.org, that show the levels of community transmission by county. You definitely want under 5 percent; 1 percent would be beyond good--it suggests the disease is contained.

Beyond that, we have to trust that others at our dinner are behaving safely as well. We're all trying, but as the Atlantic put it:

...people generally don’t want to kill their friends and relatives. Most people want to do the right thing. But they can’t do it if they don’t know what it is.

painting:Peasant Wedding, Pieter Bruegel

 

Politics in the Time of Coronavirus: How it could effect Thanksgiving civility.

When economists philosophize, they'll tell you that the young start out liberal and as they gather worldly goods and status they mature into conservatives. In a maxim variously attributed to Winston Churchill, Victor Hugo and a slew of others, the thought bubble goes like this: "Any man who is under 30, and is not a liberal, has no heart; and any man who is over 30, and is not a conservative, has no brains." (A French philosopher put the line of demarcation at 20 years of age!)

It could also be true, as  two decades of Pew Research Center surveys have found, that generations carry with them the imprint of early political experiences. That is, those of us who came of age during the Truman and Eisenhower administrations (we're now in our 80s or older), have fairly consistently favored Republican candidates, while those of us who turned 18 under Bill Clinton and his two successors have almost always voted more Democratic than the nation as a whole.

All of which is a long way of saying, it's not unusual for our political alignments to be out of sync generationally.  That's what's led to many an unpleasant political conversation at Thanksgiving dinner. For those of us holding out hope for extended-family reunions around the Thanksgiving table this year, we may find the political divide is not so much generational as geographical. Compounding our differences is the unusual depth of feeling many of us hold about the current political situation and the deep divide between the left and the right. There is no longer any middle ground.

In a recent blog posting,  Carl E Pickhardt  writes about young adults and their rejection of their parents' political beliefs--and how hard that can be for parents to bear.

In these deeply partisan times, how can parents of one passionate political view come to terms with an older adolescent or young adult who is firmly wed to its opposite persuasion?

How indeed. And the same holds true for aunts and uncles and cousins by the dozens. This year, many of us may easily avoid dinner time chats with relatives with whom we disagree--social distancing and difficult travel protocols may intervene. But that doesn't help when we sit on opposite sides of the political divide with our grown children whom we may see everyday or Skype several times a week.

When it comes to politics, what does Pickhardt suggest in terms of keeping the ties that bind intact and conversations civil.

*Rather than treat a political difference as a barrier to getting along and listening with their mind made up, treat it as a bridge, as a talking opportunity to better understand each other. 

*Rather than take personal offense, respect the individuality and independence of their grown child’s political convictions and the bravery to assert themselves in this displeasing way. 

*Rather than treat political differences as primary, keep them in perspective as only a small part of a person, and appreciate the abiding commonalities they still share.   

Solid advice. Good luck implementing it.

painting: Romare Bearden, Tomorrow I May Be Far Away, 1967, National Gallery

Pandemic Travel: Tips on a safe and comforting visit with grown children who live far away.

I have perfected the fly-by hug. When we finally made our way to the cities where our children live, I found I could not greet them with an awkward elbow flap of a hello. We have not seen in person either our children or grandchildren since last Thanksgiving, I could not deny myself hugs--even if they were quick and fleeting. 

So I started with my youngest--a 12-year-old. We were standing on the outdoor patio and I told her, "We'll run toward each other, grab a hug with our faces turned away from each other and move on quickly. And so it was with each member of the family. I found it immensely satisfying in a way that's hard to put into words--just to hold, however fleetingly, each precious member of my family was a joy and a reminder of the necessary warmth of physical contact.

To arrive on that patio we had to get to an airport and board a plane. This felt surprisingly safe. The airport was sparsely populated. Almost all concessions were gated closed. The airport was a depressing ghost town (and a reminder of the hundreds of jobs lost in just this one place). That said, we felt safer for the lack of crowds.

We flew on Southwest which has promised to control the sale of tickets on each flight to keep middle seats empty. Twas a pleasure not to be crowded in, but it was eerie nonetheless. Southwest also demands passengers wear masks. One man, seated a row in front of me and across the aisle kept taking off his mask. What to do? It made me feel unsafe. I signaled the stewardess and let her handle it.

When we landed and made our way toward baggage claim we were greeted by the staff at a "health desk." We were asked where we came from. When we said Maryland, a list was checked. "You're Okay," said the health checker. "Welcome to New York State."

We stayed at a hotel and asked for a room in which no one had stayed the night before. No problem. The half of the lobby where we used to order breakfast in the morning or a drink in the evening was dimmed-light dark with chairs upended on the tables. A gloomy sight. 

Our daughter-in-law was concerned about our spending time in her house. (Concerned for us, not for her family.) The grandkids had started back to school,  attending in person classes two or three times a week. That means they were now more exposed to the virus than they had been--a risk for us. Our DIL had planned in advance and borrowed a heat lamp so we could safely eat together outdoors. But a sudden cold spell--40 degrees at night--made sitting outside too chilly, even with the heat lamp. We went inside. Everyone stayed masked except when actually eating. We sat well distanced from each other, plates on our laps rather than on the table.

Despite the masks (with their muffling of sound) and physical distancing we had a wonderful time talking,  laughing at family stories and catching each other up on individual "adventures." At the same time I felt I was like a squirrel who needed to hoard these moments for a long winter of no visits.

Two days later we headed an hour east into Massachusetts for a 24-hour visit with our daughter and her family who drove west to meet us. We stayed at a small family-run inn in Great Barrington. Our rooms were the only ones in a small annex where we had a shared communal space. In the evening it was, once again, too chilly (and we were too tired) to try to eat outside. My daughter and I walked into town, picked up two pizzas and a big salad. We all sat in our communal space, dropped our masks to eat our pizza and otherwise stayed safe while we relaxed in each other's company. 

We are fortunate that both our children live in states (New York and Massachusetts) that have been able to keep the Covid infection rate under control. Our state (Maryland) is improving--we are no longer banned in New York State. Traveling within states that have very low infection rates and are making Herculean efforts to keep it that way made us feel we were taking controlled--and worthwhile--risks in traveling to visit our children. 

We dare not think ahead to the usual family gathering in Albany for Thanksgiving. Except to  squirrel away the memories of this visit to revisit when the weather turns cold and travel more challenging.

painting: Pissarro, Charing Cross Bridge, London

Traveling to See Loved Ones: Be prepared for Covid tests, extra masks and lots of sanitizers.

In August, a friend's daughter and son-in-law drove 10 hours from Boston to Maryland to visit their mom for two days. During the trip they focused on what we all focus on: stop only to gas up and use the facilities; pack the car with travel snacks and soft drinks  plus lots of Clorox-like wipes and hand sanitizer. When they returned home, they took Covid tests.

Other friends did the reverse trip: They drove 12 hours from Maryland to see their grown children and grandchild in New Hampshire. They stopped en route to overnight at a hotel, picked up dinner from a carry out and limited highway stops to gas and bathroom. They did not get tested but they quarantined-lite when they came home. That is, they stayed home for two or three days--before they got back to their usual routine, which was low risk anyway.

Now we are planning a trip to see our grown children and grandchildren. We are not driving. Our plan is to cover our faces and fly from Maryland to Albany to see our son's family, drive a rental car into Massachusetts to see our daughter and then reverse ourselves to come home.

We are lucky in one way: both states we are visiting have very low infection rates.  We are not so lucky in that neither New York nor Massachusetts welcome travelers from Maryland-- unless they quarantine for two weeks or, for Massachusetts, have a negative covid-19 test within 72 hours of arrival. The test requirement is a challenge. Rapid result tests are not easy to get in Maryland. Where we live (and where the infection rate is low), we have to be  symptomatic or have been exposed to the virus in order to qualify for a test. It took us more than four hours to set up what we think is going to be a drive-through test that we can use to enter Massachusetts.

We are not sure now if we New York will allow us to enter. The NYS website tells us that "enforcement teams will be stationed at airports statewide to meet arriving aircrafts at gates and greet disembarking passengers."  We may make our final destination to Massachusetts and ask our son to drive himself and his family an hour east to visit us there. The big risk we  face: Our grandchildren will have started going to school in person. We will have to be extra vigilant around everybody and they around us. My daughter in law says that if the weather turns cold enough to make us uncomfortable to sit outside, we can come into the house and everyone will wear masks, except when we eat and that will not be around the table but scattered 6-feet apart in the family room.

Then there is the question of what we have to or should do when we return home. Can we just unpack our bags as though this was just another trip to see our children, or should we quarantine? Get another covid test in two weeks?

This is what the new normal for travel is: Along with arranging transportation, making housing reservations and remembering to pack chargers for all devices, we have to add extra face masks, covid testing and sanitizers to our travel to-do list--and be prepared to quarantine ourselves.

As to the family visits themselves, we are assured by friends who've driven miles to see their children that even hugless, physically distanced encounters are worth the challenge of dealing with the plethora of pandemic limits.

 

 

 

 

Refilled Nests and Too Many Pandemic Promises to Keep

Back in March, when the coronavirus pandemic had most of us sheltering in place, some of us did so with our grown kids and even grandkids. Where they had been living independently, now they were with us under our roof or we under theirs--or we were within a pod of safe visitors. Who knew the sheltering would last so long or that the promises of aid and assistance--babysitting, room and board--would last so long and be so exhausting.

What to do about the problems raised by the over-stuffed nest and pledges of commitment to our now too-close loved ones? Our once-quiet, empty nest may now be filled with the chaos of multi-generation visitors. Did we really mean to commit to serving three meals a day to four adults and two children? Or be available to babysit while they worked? Or share our car, cross trainer and bandwidth indefinitely? How do we get our life back when the end to the crisis is no where near? Here are some suggestions from experts quoted in "How to Set Pandemic Boundaries for Relatives," an article that  reminds us that boundaries are necessary even when they may be hard to set and make us feel like we're being a bad parent or grandparent.

On feeling overwhelmed: Create a list of all of your responsibilities and then identify what you alone can do and what can be outsourced to your "guests." Examples: cleaning the bathrooms; grocery shopping; preparing meals.

Keep a relaunch in sight: Adult children who are boarding with you may have regressed into  dependency. One expert suggests saying to your child, "We know that you don’t want to be here forever. But what can we think about to give you, and us, a vision for how great it’s going to be for you to feel autonomous and free and empowered?” Tht could be the road to mapping out steps toward a relaunch.

Renegotiate commitments: Promises were made back in March, before we realized how long the pandemic might last. But a commitment to, say, babysit grandkids when in-person schools closed last spring may no longer be feasible. You are allowed to change your mind, the experts say, offering this suggestion as a way to open negotiations: “Just because we’ve agreed to something in one moment doesn’t mean we’ve agreed to it for life.”

Clarify your needs: Be clear in your own mind what you’re still willing to do. Let your grown kids know you are still there for them, but within limits. You might reassure them that you've been happy to help so far but "we all thought this would be over by now, and it’s not." Then, the experts say, tell the truth. As in something like this: 

 “‘I can’t be at my best at this level, so I need to cut back’, or ‘I need to take a month off,’ or whatever it is you really need....You let them know, without defensiveness, without guilt, that you want to help them come up with a different solution that works for them, because this one isn’t sustainable for you.’”

Be true to yourself: There may be an expectation on the part of your grown children that you're going to keep doing this because you're their parent and they need you to do it. Oh the guilt! Here's one expert's suggestion on this point:

“Ask yourself, ‘Do I want my kids and grandkids to love me because I do something I don’t want to do for them? Or do I want them to love me because I’m honest and I’m being myself?’”

It ain't easy:

“Tolerating uncomfortable feelings builds emotional resilience. And standing in our truth is hard, but it’s the key to honest relationships."

painting: Repose by J Sargent @ National Gallery

Thank You Notes: Why grown and grandkids fail to show their appreciation for gifts we give them.

I sympathize with the frustration: We send our grown kids and grandkids gifts and we get nothing tangible in return--not a word of thanks, no less an "I love it!" It may be that in these days of social distancing from our loved ones, the need to hear a thanks looms even larger. Pandemic or no, I hear about the thank you issue--or lack thereof--all the time. 

So does Philip Galanes over at Social Qs. "For years, every week has brought at least one new variation on this letter," he writes. The letter in question comes from a reader who sends her daughter monetary gifts that have long gone unacknowledged; she wonders whether it’s time to stop sending them, especially since the gifts are a strain on her budget.

Galanes starts by saying that the "central question is by far the one I hear most often. I’ve answered it a few times: We give gifts out of love, not to be thanked; speak up gently; if this really bothers you, stop sending gifts."

But this time Galanes doesn't rest there. He's interested in exploring the root of the problem: Why does this keep happening--to this reader and to many of us. Here's his answer:

My new theory: If a parent (or uncle or grandmother) sends a gift, year after year, without any acknowledgment from the recipient, maybe the recipient doesn’t experience it as a gift. Maybe your daughter and the others see these presents as their entitlement, like stock dividends or Social Security checks. The fact that the gifts keep coming, without further action, supports their belief.

That doesn't change the basics of his advice: Ask your child or grandchild to be more thoughtful. If they can’t be, trade the checks for greeting cards.

We're desperate to see our grown children--and to get away. What are the travel risks?

August days are tick-tocking down toward Fall with its school openings and flu season. Now is the supposedly "safe" time to travel--to visit children who live far away and to just plain get away. But is it safe? Some economists have suggested that we older folk should be part of a “targeted lockdown," and stay home since our age puts us in a high risk group for contracting Covid-19.

Some of us are in the no-go age group but our health is otherwise robust. We're physically active and have no life-threatening underlying disease.  Does that give us a pass to go forth and travel to see our children? I raise this question now since when I wrote a  June post  I looked at safety measures we should take if/when we traveled. But the spread of the coronavirus has accelerated since them. So I'm backing up one step and looking at what the experts have to say about evaluating travel risk. 

To that point, the Cleveland Clinic has developed a risk calculator to fine tune individual risks. Check it out but with this caveat. Cleveland Clinic doctors say the calculator was designed for healthcare professionals so that they could prioritize who to test. It is not, they say, "for use by individuals who are ‘curious’ about their risk....It is important to caution against consumers interpreting a low risk score as license to ease up on infection prevention measures such as social distancing and masking, as those decisions have public health implications beyond individual risk.”

Okay. Understood. But what about specific travel risks.

Some of us may be prevented from traveling because we live in an area where infection rates are high (above 5 percent) and we are unwelcome in states where the rates are low. If we are from a "safe," low-rate state, it might be an additional risk to visit with relatives from infection-surging states. The latest on how some states are adjusting to incoming travelers is in this article.

If we can make our way around these realities, there are other hazards to evaluate--which is what Paterfamilias and I were forced to do as we planned a trip to see our children. We bought airplane tickets to fly to the city where our son and his family live, made reservations to stay at a nearby hotel for a few days then drive a rental car three hours to another state to see our other child and her family. We haven't been able to hug our children or grandchildren since Thanksgiving. We were feeling hemmed in and in need of a change of scene. We were willing to take some reasonable risks.

Our flight would be only an hour or so. (Driving was not an option.)  I was comfortable with the short flight until I read an article interviewing a handful of public health experts, NIH's Doctor Anthony Fauci among them. They were all asked about their personal behaviors. Did they go to supermarkets to shop? Did they wipe down their groceries? The answers varied among the five. But there was one question in which they were all agreed. None of them would set foot on an airplane.  Strike one.

Next risk question: Where has everyone we would be visiting been and what have they been doing? As departure day neared I talked to my daughter-in-law about what safety would look like at their home. They live in a part of New York State that has a low infection rate. And yet. "You know the big kids go out," she told me. "They see friends. Plus they're coaches at a soccer camp." My Grands are responsible kids (they're 19 and 17); they wear masks most of the time; they understand how infection works. But they're teenagers! Long story short: My DIL didn't think it would be safe for us to spend any time inside the house. We could sit out in their backyard, splash around in the pool, take walks in the neighborhood and eat meals at their outdoor table. But what if it rains? Or it's beastly hot? Strike two.

Next hurdle: State quarantine issues. The third strike came while we were still weighing and wavering. Governor Andrew Cuomo closed New York State to visitors from 31 high-infection states. Our state of Maryland isn't in terrible shape--we're no California, Florida or Texas--but we were on the list of 31. We would have to quarantine for two weeks upon arrival, and good social practice would demand that we do the same when we got home. One could say, the state is unlikely to police us. On the other hand, the policy is there for a reason. We are reasonable people. Do we have the right or legitimate reason to flaunt the policy? (I watched Governor Cuomo's press briefings everyday as he guided New Yorkers from epicenter of infection to a mere 1 percent infection rate. He listened to the scientists; shouldn't we continue to listen to him?)

All these decisions are personal and full of individual wrinkles and perils. Friends of ours are driving to New Hampshire (Marylanders are permitted to enter) to visit their son. Their grandson is pre-teen and has not been out partying. Their son's house has a separate bedroom on another floor where our friends can stay. The trip sounds safer than ours did.

So this is my rationale about the particulars on why we made the decision we made. It's personal but there is expert-driven guidance out there for help in weighing travel risks. This is one  that offers practical advice that touches on a range of travel issues, from the relative hazards of riding trains versus planes to assessing hotel safety. Here's what the CDC advises. It includes a lot of easy-to-follow practical travel tips and a "what to pack" list--i.e. hand sanitizers, masks.  Spoiler alert: The CDC would rather you stayed at home.

painting by Monet, "Bridge at Argenteuil" at National Gallery of Art