I picked up the phone this week and called a friend. We hadn’t spoken since early in the pandemic. We’ve focused so much on the walls or masks between us and the rest of the world, that we’ve forgotten to reach out to close friends. So, I apologized for being so long out of touch. She asked how our family’s doing. I asked about hers. There was a pause.
“You know the toughest part of all this is?” she said. “No spontaneity. You can’t do anything spur of the moment.”
The fact was, that’s partly why I’d called. If nothing else, the ease of calling, texting, emailing (and Zooming), during these lockdowns, has helped replace that lost “spontaneity” when you suddenly decide to catch up. She was absolutely right. She went on to explain that this time of year she really enjoys bringing special foods to friends, and inviting her grandchildren over for visits. She and her husband also enjoy a night or two out over the holidays – going to a movie, a restaurant, a Christmas parade – just on a whim. But not this year.
“Kind of takes the good cheer out of things,” she said.
I had to agree. As I’ve written periodically these past months, some of the slowdown, some of the quiet time, some of the forced reclusiveness has been therapeutic. Over these many weeks, I’ve written about the renaissance in gardening, birding, enjoying your family bubble, doing more reading (and in my case writing).
But we’re also conditioned – especially during holidays such as New Year’s, Thanksgiving and Christmas – to drop everything and right out of the blue to connect with those who are important to us. It’s human.
It’s interestingly too, because doing things spur of the moment is also part of the charm of this time of year. Whether it’s paying a surprise visit to a friend, dashing off to get that last-minute present, joining a group of carollers, or (for some of us) getting a call for an impromptu game of pick-up or shinny hockey, this time of year is made for things like that.
Case in point, I don’t normally get our tree until a few days before Christmas. I don’t know why. The closer we get to Christmas generally means colder weather, more snow and the excitement of packing the kids in the car, grabbing a saw and some rope, leisurely driving out to a tree farm and making the tree hunt an outing.
“They’re all closed, Dad,” one daughter told me last week.
“Closed? But it’s still two weeks to Christmas,” I protested.
“They’ve been overrun by a lot of people. They’re sold out of trees.”
So much for the joy of spontaneity. Now I was in panic mode. I didn’t have time to pack up any kids. Just enough time for the saw, and a mad dash to some of my favourite tree farms. I got to my regular spot. “Closed for the season,” the sign said. It was Dec. 9!
Then, overland to another of my haunts for cutting my own. It too was boarded up. They tried to make me feel better about the bolted gates with a sign that read, “Happy holidays! See you next year.” Happy? I was furious (at them and myself).
Fortunately, I was third choice lucky. They were open. I just about kissed the young woman doing the tree sales. Wait! Can’t do that! Keep your distance. See what I mean? No spontaneity.
Then, it happened again the other day. Remember when they announced that a couple more of the regions around the city would be locking down because of rising COVID numbers? It struck me that night. One of the places we like to shop for children’s gifts happened to fall inside that zone.
My reflex was the same as all those people lining up the next day at the malls in red zone trying to beat the clock. Quick. Get there and shop before the lockdown. Wrong! That’s exactly what they don’t want me to do. That kind of spontaneity in a lockdown is illegal and will exacerbate the problem.
I remember one Christmas that required more spontaneity than just about any other. It was 1982 or ’83, I think. Remember those soft little dolls called Cabbage Patch Kids? You’d didn’t just buy a Cabbage Patch doll, you adopted it … if you could find one. Our daughters, you won’t be surprised, just had to have them. Well, no store within 200 miles of where we lived had any.
So, I spent days calling friends from coast to coast to search every possible outlet for an un-adopted Cabbage Patch Kid. We finally tracked two down, in Victoria. And there were two very happy kids, that Christmas.
Not to mention their spontaneous shopper dad.
