Friday, January 14, 2022

Negative/Positive

Like many other households, Covid has reared its ugly head in ours again. With one among us home-testing positive and two exhibiting possible symptoms, all six of us are in lockdown for the first time in a long time.

We are aged 8-74, and although I won’t disclose where I fall on that spectrum it is definitely true that I am not the youngest.

I also tested negative yesterday for the seventh or so time I’ve been tested during the pandemic, so Covid remains an elusive enemy, always out there somewhere but never within, so far as our testing methodologies can tell.

The coronavirus is of course as much a mental illness at this point as a physical one. It strikes fear in the hearts of millions who increasingly cannot clearly remember life before Covid.

So as we huddled inside, I worked with my ten-year-old granddaughter on math, in this case long-form division. It was like we had reverted to the earliest days of the pandemic, back in March 2020, when this was a novelty. Nobody can come and nobody can go.

By now it’s all worn thin, except the homework part. I actually love working with kids on math and have done so over many many decades with many many kids.

The logical beauty of numbers fitting together into patterns is like poetry to me. Without consciously trying to, I often multiply and divide numbers reflexively. It’a like whistling a tune, which my father used to do, but I can’t. 

I can whistle numbers silently, however — or out loud if you ask me what I am thinking about at the right moment.

For example, soon it will be baseball season here in the U.S. and I love baseball. The regular season is made up of 162 games, which to me means nine equal segments of 18 games each.

The synchronicity of this appeals to me, as there are nine innings to a game, or 18 separate times a batting order gets the chance to hit. There are nine players in each lineup, meaning 18 actively in the game at any one time.

See? 9-18-162.

That, of course, will also be today’s date sometime far in the future — on September 18, 2162 to be precise, some one hundred and forty years hence. I will no longer be around, but perhaps someone somewhere will read these words then — and poof!

By the magic of numbers we will have been connected.

***

From time to time I mention movies I like. One is “Carrie Pilby” (2017), in which English actress Bel Powley plays a young prodigy who graduated from Harvard as a teenager with no friends. Her therapist advises her to change that.

She does. 

I like the movie for many reasons, but particularly because if one thinks of oneself as smarter than others, one might just end up with no friends at all. Wouldn’t that imply that one was not in fact quite so smart after all? There’s nothing smart, as it were, about loneliness. 

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