We Are Resilient – Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

We Are Resilient – Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

The other day I was beginning to feel more isolated, more than a touch separated, thinking, “Am I ever going to see my grandchildren play a sport? Be in a concert? What happened to grandparents’ days?  I cannot believe I am missing these things. Even when they play, we are not allowed to go. And dinner with friends?” A bit of melancholy crept in.

In October, our granddaughter played in the state field hockey championship game and, even though the Cranston Stadium was near empty, we had to stand outside the fence, high on a hill, to observe. Fortunately, it was a delightful Fall day and  — it was necessary, so no complaints.  Just a bit of disappointment. As I grow older, I realize even more that I do not want to miss anything, particularly as it relates to growing (too fast) grandchildren. So many of you must feel the same.

When I walk our street in Bristol, I am encouraged as other walkers, all masked of course, pause momentarily to say hello. One walker said, “This is the most exciting thing I do each day. In fact, we just went to the post office. Yippee!” We laughed. OK, we agree.

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But, today, as Diane and I ambled along, we realized that the walkers seemed quieter, reticent, softer responses, “Yes, you too,” when we greeted them.

“They’re worn out and it’s after the holidays. A letdown,” Diane observed. I trust she is right. Worn out with guidelines and confinement. Wondering when it will end.

Those feelings of isolation are momentary. I think it’s time for humility in this, one of the most pressing health crises in a century. There can be comfort in solitude. The history of previous pandemics is comparable.

It starts with denial and then toleration of the late responses to the spread, and then anger. From the earliest of plagues, those responses have been similar; in retrospect, not surprising.

I love Alessandro Manzoni’s book, “Betrothed,” wherein he writes an outstanding description, perhaps the best I have read, of a plague that occurred in 1630. In his images, we experience the anger of the populace against the government’s late and woefully inadequate responses; even more anger because the imposed restrictions and enforcement thereof were Draconian.

Thousands died. Rumors abounded. No surprise that they blamed other countries for the origin of their woes. No surprise that they blamed anyone but themselves. Violence, hearsay, and panic were common. They feared death.

Our world, whether it be my street in Bristol, or anyplace else, is fragile. Worry prevails.

But we must move along on this journey. We must be positive. We must be kind. We must try to help those who refuse to believe the science, who accept alternative theories based on a hill of sand.

I am over the feeling of melancholic isolation. I am positive, optimistic. Diane and I will catch up with time-lost families. I will encourage others to be the same.

We will get back to normal, soon. We are resilient.

 

Dr. Ed Iannuccilli is the author of three popular memoirs, “Growing up Italian; Grandfather’s Fig Tree and Other Stories”, “What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner” and “My Story Continues: From Neighborhood to Junior High.”  Learn more here.