Tag: intimacy

Categories
Aging Living

On Holding Hands

A musing after Roger Rosenblatt’s “I Want to Hold Her Hand“

It is a Tuesday in early fall, the kind of afternoon that doesn’t announce itself as anything special, and Roger Rosenblatt and his wife, Ginny, are walking somewhere they’ve probably walked a thousand times before. Their hands are together. Nobody watching them would think twice about it, because two old people holding hands on a sidewalk is one of the least remarkable sights in America. That’s the whole point. It isn’t remarkable. It’s just true.

Here’s what you’d need to know about them, if you were the kind of person who noticed. They held hands in high school, decades before either of them had a name for what that meant. They’ve held hands through the ordinary accumulation of a life — the mortgage, the kids, the funerals, the doctor’s appointments, the small emergencies that never make it into any story anyone tells at a dinner party.

And now they’re old, and the hands doing the holding aren’t the hands that started this.

Rosenblatt writes about the veins, the discoloration, the wrinkles like roads on a map nobody drew on purpose, and you get the sense he’s spent a lot of quiet time looking down at his own hand, trying to place when exactly it stopped belonging to the boy who first reached for a girl’s hand in some hallway sixty-some years ago.

There’s a version of this story in every small town in the country, if you know where to look. The couple at the diner counter splitting a slice of pie — not out of economy anymore, just habit. The man in the church parking lot with his hand under his wife’s elbow instead of around her fingers, because her balance isn’t what it was, and calling it the same thing anyway. Because it is the same thing.

Love, at this age, isn’t the version you see in the movies. It’s structural. Load-bearing. It’s what keeps two people upright once the friends have started dying off and the noise of the world has gone quiet around them.

Rosenblatt calls himself and Ginny a shaky Hansel and Gretel, lost in the woods. But read it again. They’re not lost. They’ve been down this path before, more times than either of them could count, and they know it by feel now, the way you know a staircase in the dark — not because you can see it, but because your hand remembers where the rail is.

Take my hand. Not to find the way. Because you already know it, and I want to walk it with you anyway.

Categories
Family Friends Living

The Texture of Tuesday

There is a terrifying calmness to the math of mortality. Especially when you’re in your 70’s approaching 80!

Sahil Bloom shared a realization that acts as a quiet sledgehammer to the soul: “You’re going to see your parents 15 more times before they die.” When you live away from them, visiting a few times a year, the calculus is brutal.

But there is a second, more subtle layer to this reality that we often miss. It isn’t just about the number of times we visit; it is about the nature of the time we share together.

When we live away from the people we love, we fall into the “Trap of the Big.” Because the investment to visit is high—a six-hour flight or a three-hour drive—we feel the need to justify that investment with an Event. We visit mostly for milestones, for holidays, and for planned long weekends. Maybe we schedule time to go on vacations together. We curate our presence around those highlights.

The problem is that life does not happen in the highlights. Real intimacy is not built on Thanksgiving dinner; it is built on the mundane friction together of a Tuesday afternoon. Or a Sunday morning.

Sahil wrote about a moment that shifted his entire perspective. It wasn’t a grand celebration, but a quiet spring evening in the backyard. Dinner was over. He was drinking a glass of wine. His son was chasing his parents around the grass.

“In that moment, I had a realization: This was it. It wasn’t big or glamorous. It was a little thing that meant everything.”

This brings to mind Kurt Vonnegut’s suggestion: “Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you’ll look back and realize they were the big things.”

There is a specific texture to life that only exists in the small moments. It is the texture of going for a walk to ask your dad for advice on a random problem. Or the texture of watching a a young mother playing dinosaurs with her 2 year old daughter on a Wednesday morning. It is that ability to be present not just for the celebration of life, but for the living of it.

If we are lucky, we get those big moments. But if we are intentional, we can also get the little ones. And in the end, the little ones are the only ones that actually fill our jar.

Categories
Uncategorized

The Power of the Handwritten Note

In an era dominated by digital communication, the handwritten note stands out as a powerful and increasingly rare form of expression. The simple act of putting pen to paper carries a weight and significance that makes it a potent tool for both personal and professional communication. We can all appreciate their enduring charm and delightfulness.

During my tenure at IBM years ago, one of the most delightful aspects of being a manager was the provision of personal stationery. This wasn’t just any paper; it was a statement of elegance and personal touch. Smaller in size, cream-colored, and boasting a luxurious texture, each sheet bore my name engraved on the letterhead, conspicuously lacking any IBM logo. This stationery was designed for a specific purpose: to maintain the long-held company tradition of writing personal notes to colleagues and associates.

The power of a handwritten note lies in its inherent personal touch. When someone takes the time to write by hand, they invest a part of themselves into the message. The unique curves and strokes of their handwriting, the choice of words, and even the occasional crossed-out phrase all contribute to a sense of authenticity and intimacy that cannot be replicated by typed text. This personal investment communicates to the recipient that they are truly valued and special.

Receiving such a note was always a delight. Many of us kept these notes in special file folders, occasionally taking a few minutes to flip through them, reliving important moments and feeling a renewed sense of appreciation. These tangible and physical mementos have a quality that digital messages simply cannot match.

As the years have passed, the custom of sending personal notes has faded, replaced by the convenience of digital communications. This shift has only served to enhance the impact of handwritten notes. Receiving a handwritten note today feels like discovering a treasure. Such a note stands out precisely because it isn’t instant, digital communication.

The act of writing by hand also benefits the sender. The slower pace of handwriting compared to typing allows for more thoughtful composition. It encourages the writer to choose their words carefully and reflect on their message.

As we’ve been grappling with the impact of AI tools on various aspects of our lives, handwritten notes also serve as a bastion of genuine human expression. The act of writing by hand removes the temptation to rely on AI-generated text for our most personal communications. When we put pen to paper, we directly confront our own thoughts and emotions, as we find our own words to express what we truly feel.

Moreover, handwritten notes also provide a level of privacy and intimacy. Unlike emails or text messages, which can be easily forwarded or shared, a handwritten note is meant for the eyes of the recipient alone. This exclusivity adds to the special and personal nature of the communication.

Whether expressing gratitude, offering condolences, or simply saying “hello”, the act of putting pen to paper creates a moment of pause in our hectic lives for both the sender and and recipient providing a moment to reflect, to connect, and to affect another person’s life in a delightful and meaningful way. Special creations for special people in our lives!