Being a Five Year Old

“Play is the highest form of research”

--Albert Einstein

 Now that we have plodded through a couple of phases of COVID re-openings, fifty-seven days of June, and a dozen or so senior parades, and socially distant graduations, it’s a proper summer.  Family corn hole games on the lawn, beach buckets, and BBQs are back again. As the pandemic progresses, every week brings some new item that's in short supply and high demand. Toilet paper, jigsaw puzzles, home gym equipment and so much else. Right now, kiddy pools are sold out almost everywhere. At my house, the TP is all stocked up, puzzles are lined up for the next bunch of rainy days, and I find myself turning to toys. Little kid toys. It’s like I’m five years old again.

Mr. Potato Head, Play-Doh, and Matchbox cars have all made an appearance in the last few weeks. The other night, when two friends came over for some backyard distantly social snacks, we pulled out craft kits and made plastic mermaid sun catchers, with stained glass gel paints.

Perhaps one good thing that could come from this pandemic is the return to the fun parts of our younger years. When my high school senior lost her last season of track, her senior awards night, her prom, and her job, refuge was found in coloring books and board games. Most people I know with Class of 2020 kids have said that watching them lose so many milestones, brought back their own memories of sweating it out on a football field in a polyester cap and gown, staying out until dawn on prom night, and having that last team dinner. I got to experience all of those events, but my daughter didn’t, and that is a real loss. When I graduated, the world was my oyster. I had college to look forward to, new people, travel, and so much more. I was going places. The Class of 2020? Quarantine and Zoom classes. Face masks and empty classrooms. Canceled plans and almost constant worry that their world will never be the same.  Is it any wonder that turning to the playthings of childhood would be a comfort?

Playtime doesn’t keep anyone safe, it usually doesn’t bring in a paycheck, but sometimes you just have to head for the toy box. Think about it. If you’re five years old, and the world isn’t teetering on its axis, one chest x-ray away from a corona-pocalypse, what makes you happy? Toys and food, most likely. Scraped a knee? Have a Freeze Pop. Having a bad day? Go play dollies and racecars. I’m way older than five, and confession time: I built a pug out of Legos this week and spent a few happy hours playing with Silly Sand. Also, they still make Super Elastic Bubble Plastic, in the tubes with the little straws. It still burns your lungs out, and it’s still wicked fun.

When my kids were little, I was the terrible mother that hated crafts. I never wanted to do activities with a whole bunch of little pieces that needed to be assembled. Paper chains, pipe cleaner caterpillars, and paint by number kits were all necessary evils, stashed away for snow days. When there was a five-year-old at my kitchen table, it was about fighting off the spread of glitter glue and crushed Oreos. These days it’s all about fighting off dread, fear, an invisible and insidious virus, a few creditors, and an Internet full of lies, damn lies, and statistics that I should shut off, but never quite manage to do. Maybe there is something to be said for putting away the adult worries, the job hunting, the Netflix binges, and sitting down to play with something.

Then I found it, this week’s little bit of happy fun time. I was in Marshall’s, a place I hadn’t been since February. Finally, I could return the blouse that didn’t go with the jeans that are now a wee bit too tight. On a clearance shelf was a tiny plastic space ship, a small bit of fake grass, and a magnetic cow. When you press on the little alien inside the UFO, the lights blink, the toy whistles, and then you wave it over the cow until the magnet activates and sucks Elsie right up. It even lets out a long “Mooooo” as she is whisked off to outer space. Does it get any better than that? I giggled like, well, a five-year-old with a fresh tube of glitter glue.

I have no answers about COVID-19. I cannot solve the racial issues that are everywhere, and just as illness-inducing as the virus. I can’t holler anymore at the news on TV; I’m going to barf up a vocal cord. What I can do, however, is take the time to pick up a stupid toy now and then and do some serious playing around. It won’t solve any of the big issues, but it will provide a few light moments. We all need more of those. Stay safe and play nice, OK?

On Your Best Behavior

"1st: Every Action done in Company, ought to be with Some Sign of Respect, to those that are Present."

---George Washington--Rules of Civility & Decent Behavior in Company and Conversation

Full disclosure, I'm cranky. A friend of mine, who has a wonderful way with words, would say I have a "goat in my garden" which means my panties are in a wad. She's from the South though and expresses herself in a much more polite and civilized way than I usually can. It's true though, I'm pretty bent about some public behavior I have witnessed lately, locally and nationally, and while George Washington lived in an entirely different time than we are all living in now, he had a pretty good point about respect. There are just some actions that should not be accepted in polite society. This was true in the 1700s, and it's true now. Here are a few examples, and, for the record, they all happened. It would be nice if they were made up, but no, these moments are, more often than not, the reality of daily life.

Cell Phone Use: Sure, George Washington could not have imagined cell phones. But it doesn't take a clairvoyant colonial politician to know that a space like a doctor's waiting room, a coffee shop or even the grocery store is not where a loud, and intensely personal conversation, should take place. No one wants to hear someone shouting into their iPhone about their mortgage, their latest lab results or anything else. I was recently browsing in Marshall's where a woman was wandering around the housewares department talking about her history of UTIs and her doctor's opinion on her dog sleeping in the bed with her being a possible cause. No. Sweet Mother of Abraham, no. This is not information anyone not intimately involved with this loud mouth needs to know. Just stop. Holy privacy, Batman. We all need to make a call now and then, but this is why they have hallways and cars. No more speakerphone calls in public spaces. No one wants to know that much about your life.

Personal hygiene: Another area of concern. Flossing is essential for healthy gums. Keeping your nails free of dirt is a good idea. Everyone enjoys an unstuffed nose. There are, however, many ways to accomplish these goals, but whipping out a roll of waxed thread and going all dental diva in the Starbucks line is just gross. Don't put any of your fingers in any of your airways unless you are entirely alone. Clipping your nails, with cuticles flying, is something best accomplished at home, and not at the RMV. I know it's a long wait, but bring a book for cripes sake.

Use your indoor voice: Most people are not hard of hearing, thankfully. So there is no reason to shout. This is one I struggle with because I'm Irish and I was raised around people who didn't fully understand how to be quiet. My daughter tells me all the time, "Hush! OMG, stop yelling." She has a point. Google "The Irish Whisper" it's a thing. If someone is standing within arm's length, you don't have to raise your voice, they can hear you.

These might seem like petty complaints, given the events of late. People were gunned down recently, in a house of G-d. A local teenager passed away after a brave battle with cancer. Who cares what George Washington thought about etiquette, right? Well, sure. Then again, when there is heartache all around us, when the evening news is all death and destruction, isn't taking a moment to consider how our actions might impact others a good idea? It's unlikely that refraining from picking your nose or flossing in public will do much good, politically or otherwise, but try anyway. For the comfort level of those around you, put down the Kleenex, the nail clippers and the cell phone. Maybe strike up a conversation with those around you, who knows, you might make a friend and friendship is something everyone needs these days.

Noticing the Niceties

"Being nice takes work. That's why I really like people who are nice."

---Casey Neistat

"Be nice!" It seems like I have been telling my children that since day one. I'm still yapping at them about it, and two of them are grown. There are more than a few adults that need to be told this, but sadly most of them don't listen to me. Be nice. It sounds simple, but lately, I have found that it isn't easy at all. For me, that makes it's even more vital.

Let's take a look around at the world we live in. The stock market, the last time I was brave enough to look, was in some kind of downward "correction" which I think is financial lingo for "Boy, are you screwed." Bombs were sent to half a dozen or so politicians and other well-known politically active people. There's an election coming up that half of my friends think will "set things straight" while the other half thinks it will result in civil war. For once I'm not the only person who is one breaking news update away from hiding under the bed with a bottle of Jameson; a lot of my friends are on edge, and it does make it harder to remember to be nice.

Inside the confines of my own car, I have the vocabulary of a well-educated sailor. I try to curb it when there are children with me, but thankfully that isn't often. Traffic is the place where it's hardest for me to be nice, or even remotely civil, lately. I don't drive aggressively; I don't go too fast, I stop for lights and crosswalks and turkeys, not because it's about being nice, but because my insurance is high enough, already. I do, however, talk to myself in an expletive-laced commentary on the…tomfoolery…I see on the roads. Full disclosure, I've never used the word tomfoolery, but let's go with it here. I do find myself creeping up at intersections and not letting people in though. Or zipping through a yellow light a nanosecond before it goes red, to get ahead of the cars that are waiting on the other side. Just the other day I squealed tires in a backward move to snag a parking space just as another vehicle gave a signal. In my defense, it was Salem, and it's October, but still, the whole "be nice" mojo was just not happening and it made me stop and think.

Look, there's a lot going on, in the world, but in our own lives too. Being nice is getting harder every day. That's why I think a fair number of people have given up on it. There's nowhere near enough mental bandwidth to handle the task for some. I wish I knew how to fix that. What I do know though, is that being nice has to be noticed a little more. While it's true that virtue is its own reward, I know that I'm going to need a little something more and so do a lot of people. Supposedly, when we do something out of kindness, there should be no expectation of any reward or benefit. People who ring up your groceries, cut your lawn or deliver your mail get "thanked" with a paycheck, right? Sure, most of us mumble a few words in reply to the automatic "Thank you for shopping with us," but maybe there could be more. Toss in some eye contact. Every store I go in, the employees have name tags. How about saying, "Thanks, Cheryl, you have a good day too." It's the littlest thing, but I think it goes a long way.

Would it kill any of us to notice more of what's going on around us? We should see the effort it takes to do a challenging job, every day, and still be pleasant. Don't wait until it's Letter Carrier Appreciation Day to tell your mail carrier "Thank you."  Yes, it's their job, whether anyone notices it or not, but save the date: Thank a Mail Carrier Day is February 4th. There is also National Postal Worker Day, on July 1st. 





There are a ton of other days too, that honor other professions, and of course days like Mother's Day and Father's Day, etc. Maybe being nice is hard because it's not noticed, or even expected, so people just give up? I don't know a single person who isn't pretty close to capacity just managing their life, job, family, and home, and most of them are still nice. It's hard work. We should start acknowledging that with more than a paycheck, or a 15% tip. Payment covers a task; when someone does their job and is nice about it too? Say something about the effort that takes. We are all working pretty hard at keeping it together, a sincere "well done!" would go a long way. Oh, and thanks for reading, hardly anyone has time for that anymore, and it means a lot to me.