Naomi Fry writes about how quickly the Zoom phenomenon has entered our lives in Embracing the Chaotic Side of Zoom (The New Yorker, April 20). You can read it here. The article focuses on the quirky, embarrassing or funny things we learn by chance during a zoom call: someone's cat crossing a room, the sounds of someone peeing, for example. Human connections in a two-dimensional world. I'd agree, adding the slightly voyeuristic pleasure of seeing people in their living spaces, places I may never have seen when we met in real-life rooms or meetings.
I'm almost a bit ashamed to say how much I like Zoom. Sometimes it's hard to admit screen contact is not necessarily inferior to attending an in-person event. I realized some time ago that I just don't like driving much anymore. How nice to just sit down at my laptop and see my friends' faces in front of me. No parking issues, driving in bad weather or Denver rush hour traffic. One of my hopes for the future new-normal is that more work will be done remotely, freeing space for drivers who actually need to get somewhere. As for Zoom replacing the human touch, I think I suffer less than others--others who are used to a lot of touch. First, I'm a senior who's been living alone for some time, and second, I've spent much, much time in environments with minimal touching. For example, my 20 years in Japan, where bowing and nods were far more common than hugs and handshakes.
(Illustration from The New Yorker)
While Zoom has allowed me to stay in touch with much-loved friends and activities, it's also opened new activities to me. One of them is Voice Circle Colorado (you can find them on Facebook), an improvisational singing group that used to meet in West Denver. I had thought of joining them, but as I live across town and dislike evening drives, I usually put that in my some-other-time mental file. With Zoom now, on Tuesdays and Fridays, I join whoever's there, as the group organizer, Roy Willey, leads us in song or meditative chanting. Usually we have our microphones off, so there's no shyness about the sounds we're making or not making.
Zoom is not really useful for singing together due to technical distortions, though for awhile, my choral group, Sage Singers, tried. That was before we fully came to terms with the fact that performances are on hold for the foreseeable future. Lately, however, we've been practicing a song that we hope to perform in one of those viral online song collages that are appearing on social media. Like Voice Circle, we practice with mikes off. Kevin, our wonderful and energetic director, gives us vocal tips and practice suggestions during our Sunday afternoon Zoom sessions. Equally valuable for me is the time we spend getting to know each other. We check in on how things are going, and also take turns sharing stories. Recently "tell us something we don't know about you" has been our ending activity--more valuable perhaps that the short time we used to have on snack breaks between rehearsal segments. Now, rather than having a brief chat with people I know somewhat, I'm learning more about people I knew less well or not at all.
Another Zoom benefit is that participants can join from anywhere. My laughter club here in Denver has been meeting at noon every Monday in a 24-hour laughter Zoom room, made available by Dave Berman (See Daily Laughers on Facebook. Dave seldom meets us there, as he lives in Australia. When we meet at noon, it's 4:30 a.m. in Melbourne. His hosted sessions come twice-daily, and I've occasionally joined the one at 5:30 pm my time.) My laughter club's sessions now include members of the Taos laughter club, thanks to Meredee and Davey, who host that club. They are the founding parents of our club, but we lost the chance to hear their weekly laughter last year when they moved to New Mexico. Such a pleasure to be together again--along with other laughing friends who choose to join us.
I also find that I'm having more regular connections with my friends in OLOC, a group for lesbians over 60. Every month we used to meet for lunch, social talk, and a presentation on some relevant topic, gathering in a restaurant or community center, mostly north of Denver. Often I would miss due to weather, driving reluctance or feeling a bit under-the-weather. Zoom removes those barriers for me. It may do so for others as well and may also allow us to expand group membership beyond the Boulder/Denver metropolitan area. Last weekend, when we met on Zoom, part of our agenda was a memorial service for Carmah Lawlor, one of our oldest members who died earlier this year. The service included a brief tribute followed by remembrances of Carmah's life and memories we have of her.
I've found that Zoom doesn't work well for other things, though. Exercise for one. There are many exercise classes online now, but I find a screen distracting and prefer to do my own thing. Included in that is dancing. Square dance in squares of eight dancers is impossible, of course, though The Rainbeaus have weekly chat sessions now on Zoom. For me other types of dancing are problematic too. I have access to line dance lessons on Facebook, but they don't work well for me on a screen. Sadly, as I used to admire watching line dancers at the monthly women's dance at the Avalon Ballroom in Boulder and wanted to give lessons a try. Perhaps I'll try the online ones again when it gets too hot to be outside much, as one of my friends promises herself.
For me and so many others these days, Zoom has been a boon in so many ways--including ways I haven't personally experienced yet. Kids' birthday parties, work conferences, visits with quarantined relatives, medical teleconferencing, even dates. (In the latter case, Zoom seems to be a poor substitute for the real thing. For example, one young woman mentioned in Naomi Fry's article told how strange it felt to be on a date with a new love interest while she was in her childhood bedroom.)For most of us with Zoom capability, the opportunities will be broad enough to keep us Zoom-connected sometimes even after social distancing ends. Already news articles are talking about how these changes are expected to remain a part of our lives.
Meanwhile, readers, enjoy wherever zooming takes you--or whatever activity you enjoy more.
