Lunch Bunch
How quickly things change...My work is about relationships. As such, it matters to me how I treat the people I work with. I do my very best to treat my colleagues with the respect and appreciation that many people would reserve for a dear friend. It’s a way of being that I’ve honed through years of professional relationships - some successful, some failed. But, I attribute it to the two years I spent doing international business development in Europe. The French, in particular, taught me the importance of taking the time to really get to know the people with whom you work. My French colleagues and I shared book recommendations, spent the night at each other’s houses, and often spent long hours late into the night talking about art, love, and life. It wasn’t until we had established a foundation of knowing and regard that we were then able to really begin our work together. By comparison, I worked with the British, had a British girlfriend, and spent about 75% of my time in London, and only ever went to dinner at a colleagues house once — and that colleague happened to also be an American ex-pat living and working in Europe.
As a result of my experience with the French, I often maintain friendships with my colleagues long after we no longer work together. We call each other on our birthdays, we get together for meals and discuss our work and our passions. So, when two of my former colleagues reached out to make plans for lunch, it was totally natural for us to do so.
My former colleague, Sarah, is from India and is vegetarian so we met up at one of our old haunts in Palo Alto. A trendy Jamaican restaurant named Coconuts - Sarah ordered the Jerk Tofu.
My former colleague Rebecca is a Taiwanese-American omnivore, and is super food conscious, so we met a few days later at Amber India in Los Altos for their amazing lunch time buffet.
During my chats with colleagues we often start out by talking about work; then reminiscing about former colleagues - sharing updates on who is working where now; we share anecdotes about our respective families’; our challenges with the many competing interests that demand our time as members of the sandwich generation; our politics (e.g. what hyper-partisans or nationalists in the Midwest and South of the US (my people), or Taiwan, or India are stirring up, etc.); and then we usually wrap up by figuring out when we are next going to meet up; bagging our left-overs; hugging goodbye; and texting how nice it was to see one another as we return to our respective offices.
For the record, Sarah, Rebecca, and I knew about the cruise ship that was sailing the California Coast desperately seeking a port of entry that would allow it to dock to treat (and quarantine) the growing number of passengers onboard who were suffering and dying from coronavirus by the time we had our respective lunch meetups. By this time, most of California already knew enough about that situation to be at least somewhat concerned about what would happen if someone disembarked from that ship and disappeared into San Francisco, or Oakland. At this point in time, the possibility of this happening was no longer subconscious. Each of us was at least some degree aware of the threat of coronavirus and we were processing it in some way.
For example, as we reminisced during lunch I became aware at some point that something about that ship and coronavirus was at work in our dynamic. Because although we still shared stories of life and work, politics and family there was something in our interactions that kept us further apart. It wasn’t necessarily explicit, as the coronavirus only really came up a few times through anecdotes about invasive customs rituals and belligerent shoppers who were hoarding toilet tissue, but there was a distance between us. It wasn’t totally obvious to us at the time but our behavior had changed. Before lunch, Sarah washed her hands, and again excused herself to do so after. Same with Rebecca. And when Rebecca and I left the buffet, I used my scarf to open the door of the restaurant. After I walked her to her car, instead of a hug, or a high-five I gave her an elbow bump, sharing that this is what all of the ‘cool kids’ are doing these days. I can’t exactly put my finger on when it happened but indeed, things had begun to change.
The Photo Shoot
As I mentioned in my previous blog posts, my daughter is a competitive gymnast. She adores the sport and is dedicated to the discipline and practice that mastery of it requires. As a matter of fact, she spends between 18 and 20 hours a week at the gym honing and refining the skills she needs to be successful. And, as a result, she can do remarkable things. My wife and I support her by shuttling her and (on occasion) her teammates to events, to competitions, to practice, and to sleep-overs at each other’s houses. In spite of the nature of their sport, where kids compete against each other every week to stand on the top step of the podium as vault, bars, beam, floor, or the coveted ‘all-around’ champion, they have developed friendships that will likely stand the tests of time and distance as they grow up and become teenagers, adolescents, and eventually, adults. I am very proud of her, for she is much more focused and disciplined than I was at her age - and perhaps even more so than I am now. A couple of times a year I volunteer to take pictures of the little ones during their competitions or practices and then donating them to her gym for use in their social media and MarComm efforts. It’s fun for me to be able to share my passion for photography, while also supporting my daughter’s passion for the sport. It’s a win/win for our family.
In February, I volunteered to do a comprehensive photo shoot of the young boy’s and girl’s gymnastics teams at my daughter’s gym. I met with the owner of the gym to plan and detail the photo shoot and we made arrangements for me to show up during a Friday night practice session. We agreed that I would bring in my portable strobes (something that I’m usually prevented from using with gymnasts, as it is very distracting) and I would set up my equipment to shoot the boy’s and girl’s competitive teams, the optional teams, as well as the recreational gymnasts. By this shoot, I was becoming aware of the coronavirus (now sometimes called, COVID-19) and was practicing a heightened sense of hygiene - washing my hands religiously for twenty seconds at a time. And keeping my hands off of my face - something I found surprisingly difficult.
During the shoot, in the gym, I wiped down all of their equipment before using it as a prop, and (as always) I maintained my practice of never touching or posing any of the gymnast, not even my own daughter, as doing so with her might cause confusion with some of the other little ones. This is my practice and my ritual, but during this shoot it took on another purpose. On top of the issue of creating clear boundaries, I found that I also wanted to establish a broader personal space bubble than I had previously required in my work with athletes. I have to say that it had an impact, the pictures that I took were good, but I was distracted for much of the shoot. And, as a result, something is missing in the result...
My Workout
I went to my gym after work on Friday the 20th of February and by this time things had changed significantly. My gym, which is usually bustling at this time, was pretty dead. In particular, I went to do some cardio on an exercise bike in a fitness room that also has treadmills, a couple of rowing machines, and several elliptical machines and there were only about 5 other people in there. This time, before I got on the bike, I wiped it down using antibacterial wipes, and I got an extra towel that I used to cover the handlebars so that I didn’t have to touch them during my workout. I also used my own heart rate monitor, and only touched the screen once to set up my workout. Someone who was working out in the far corner on a treadmill was coughing and sneezed at least twice. I recall it viscerally now because (at the time) the hair on the back of my neck literally stood up. I cut my workout short, wiped the entire bike down with a towel, and then again with antibacterial wipes before leaving the exercise room. I still took a shower at the gym, but I used a towel a tissue or a wipe to open my locker, to turn on and off the water, and to flush the toilet. As I went to spin-dry my workout gear a middle-aged man came into the bathroom and spit in the garbage can next to the spin-dry machine. I gave him a look that expressed my dissatisfaction, dried off, dressed, and haven’t been back to the gym since as it closed soon afterwards due to concerns over the coronavirus.
Family Matters
My Dad is a Vietnam War veteran who is nearing the age of retirement from his private practice as a psychotherapist. He also suffers from COPD. He has a second home in Arizona where he sometimes goes for weeks at a time to unwind. In February, he contacted my sister to share that he was coming back from Arizona and was feeling a little under the weather. He didn’t seem to be too concerned about COVID-19, so I didn’t bother mentioning it to him when I heard he was ill. But, I’d be lying if I didn’t share that I was deeply concerned. As it turns out he just had a mild cold, but the landscape had now changed. A 76 year old man with an existing medical condition is the quintessence of what was at this time rapidly becoming a global concern. I called my two siblings to discuss the situation with them. We agreed that my sister would liaise with my Dad (as to not raise unnecessary suspicion with him about our concerns over his health) and that she would let us know if anything changed. It turns out that he was fine so our worry was for naught. But, for at least three days, we were deeply worried about his health.
My sister lives in New York and my brother is SFPD. We hold a sibling check-in call every month to keep in touch. Most of the time we spend the hour giving each other updates on our lives; laughingly giving each other a hard time about one thing or another; or sharing anecdotes about our day, details, challenges, and highlights from our respective relationships (my sister is in a steady relationship, and my brother is a bachelor who appears to be content playing the market, most of the time). But, this call is different. We spend the entire time talking about COVID-19 and how scary it is. My sister is still taking the subway at this time, but is getting really concerned, and is looking for alternatives. My brother is worried about the homeless and the drug addicted in SF. He’s afraid of how it will spread if it takes root in one of the city’s many homeless encampments. And he’s concerned about what will happen if it hits the police force. Cops share equipment (cars, computers, lockers) and are always in close proximity to each other and to people who don’t always prioritize hygiene and self-care. They are uniquely positioned to be very vulnerable to this pandemic. I recall thinking at the time that it is odd that he never appears scared or anxious for himself, or the other cops he works with. He just doesn’t want to do any additional harm. He’s afraid that he will get it, and then come for a visit and infect someone he’s dating, or his roommate, or my family, or our Mother — who has Alzheimer’s. He is worried not for himself, but for the community, and in spite of the fact that we are an important part of what keeps him in good spirits, he shares that he will likely need to practice “social distancing” to keep everyone safe. It’s the first time I hear that phrase. I have no idea how important it will become for me in the next few weeks. As for my brother, I pray for him daily and I thank God that there are people like him at the SFPD - people who put the safety of others, before themselves. They are heroes.
Eli (February 1st - 29th, 2020)
March: Social Distancing and WFH