Spark joy

This is about discovery, joy and hugs. Just not necessarily in that order.

Perhaps I’ve been watching too much TV (I am allowed to blame Rebecca for this) and one too many “Marcella” episodes on Netflix.

Even the opening theme song to this “Nordic-noir” detective series creeps me out. Think crime thriller with a deranged undercover cop who experiences blackouts between serial killer chases.

No wonder I can’t sleep.

Over the past five months living amid COVID-19, we have become accustomed to wearing face masks, honoring social distancing, eating at home and ordering groceries online, among other things.

I’m not complaining. We consider ourselves fortunate to be among those who have stayed safe and healthy during a global pandemic.

There are worse things than sitting on your couch.

But one thing I cannot get used to is not hugging. And I won’t.

I come from a long line of huggers. And not only to greet, comfort, congratulate or say see ya later. Our family hugs for the sake of hugging.

Back in June, the New York Times ran a story called, “How to Hug During a Pandemic.” They noted that among the many things we missed from our pre-pandemic lives, hugging was at the top.

I say it’s because of oxytocin, a hormone secreted by the posterior lobe of the pituitary gland. A pea-sized structure at the base of the brain, oxytocin is sometimes known as the “cuddle hormone” because it is released when people bond socially. Or snuggle up. Or hug.

On Sunday, we attended a first birthday party for Rebecca’s great-great-niece. This “Wild Child” ballerina in a fluffy pink tutu has light brown hair, soulful blue eyes and an innocent smile that could melt the hardest of hearts. She’s got her whole life ahead of her.

We delighted in watching her smash-mouth an inaugural piece of birthday cake for her first bites of sugar. We laughed with joy when she tippy-toed across the carpet to open her gifts, preferring a box over its contents. I couldn’t help but wonder what the future holds for her.

Today’s children will learn about the 2020 pandemic the way we all discovered most stuff we know: books, movies, TV, restroom graffiti.

And through other-worldly parental exchanges such as these:

“Mommy, what are they doing?”

“Sweetie, that was known as shaking hands. You know, what we do with our elbows now after we stopped touching because of COVID-19.”

“Oh. And that, daddy? What are they doing?”

“Oh, honey, that was called hugging. We did it before COVID, too. Now go wash your hands and put on your mask.”

Makes me sad typing that. Which brings me to loss.

Like many people, I mourned the July passing of Democratic Congressman John Lewis of Georgia. It hit me hard. He was legendary and fought for freedom, equality and basic human rights his entire life. But as if so often the case when there is loss, something deeper takes hold.

“Ordinary people with extraordinary vision can redeem the soul of America by getting in what I call good trouble, necessary trouble,” said Lewis, who did plenty of that in his 80 years.

Lewis inspired me to get into more good trouble and not wait for others to do it. If not now, when?

Which brings us to discovery.

Years ago, I lost my favorite earrings, and despite countless lapsed-Catholic prayers to Saint Anthony beseeching “Tony, Tony, Tony” to “look around,” I never found them. As my friend Pat says, “Everything is somewhere.”

Not this time.

Then there’s my cousin Natalie, who lost her high school ring more than 20 years ago. A purplish gemstone with her full name monogrammed inside, the ring featured a “Penn Hills HS 1990” inscription. She didn’t seem too upset about losing it. Plus, I razzed her about the team being named “Indians.” She reminded me it was the ‘90s.

This year, Natalie received a LinkedIn message from her old high school friend, Tina Tuminella, who’s also a writer. (Natalie made me say that.)

Turns out Tina heard from Becky, an old high school friend, about finding the ring. It’s a cool story, revisited by Becky’s mom, Jackie, who sent Natalie this note:

Dear Natalie,

Becky’s father was a mailman and found many things along his route. He cannot remember your ring or when or if he was the one who found it. I think what happened was that he brought it home and put it in a box on our dresser. We probably got busy with life and forgot to ask Becky (who lived out of state at the time) about it. This past week, he was looking for a key in the box and came across the ring. We texted Becky, and she found your address. I am sorry that you had to wait so long, not knowing what happened to your ring. My husband has been retired for 20 years, so we have had it for over 20 years. We are glad we can finally return the ring to you.

Sincerely, Jackie Runyan (Becky’s mom)

“We probably got busy with life …” Yep. Ain’t that the truth.

Anyway, I’m glad my cousin got her ring back. But I want the whole story of how, why and where she lost the darn thing. Until then, I’ve concocted a story of my own. It isn’t pretty for poor Becky. Bless her heart.

Back to hugs.

Recently I read that one of the world’s leading experts on airborne disease transmission was asked about the risk of viral exposure during a hug.

An aerosol scientist at Virginia Tech, Dr. Linsey Marr noted that because the risk of a quick hug with precautions is very low – but not zero – people should choose their hugs wisely. In fact, the doctor compares those we should hug to the Japanese organizing consultant and author of Tidying Up with Marie Kondo.

“I would hug close friends, but I would skip more casual hugs,” Marr said. “I would take the Marie Kondo approach — the hug has to spark joy.”

Here’s to discovering whatever you’ve lost and holding onto things that spark joy, especially hugs. Choose them wisely.