I'm at the stage in my current work in progress where I isolate the main character. It not only forces her to do all the exciting, adventurous and dangerous parts by herself, but it forces her to think for herself, which I think can often be the harder part. When you have a group of people that help and support each other, there's a sense of safety. The sense of safety might be false, but you know that if there's a screw up, that there are people there who might be able to save the day if you can't, or at least pick up the pieces afterward.

A lot of us right now are alone, or mostly alone, in our homes. Or maybe there's no safety, no support from the people you're with. Maybe they depend on you for just about everything. There aren't a lot of options when you're in that situation. You succeed or fail by your own merits, and there's not a lot of backup. 

Or is there? I think a lot of people that feel isolated and alone aren't as alone as they think, unlike my character who is on a horrible island with no communication system that she can use to call for help. We do have people around us, physically or electronically. It's just that we're not used to asking for help, never mind getting it. 

And another thing: A lot of us don't know our neighbors, or dislike them if we do know them based on how they park their car or whether their dog barks or whatever. 

Instead of giving you advice or urging you to socialize more, let's instead turn this into a possibly-applicable-to-real-life quiz. Let's say that you have no choice but to reach out to someone because of some dire but not immediate need that requires the physical presence of someone who you don't normally see face to face. You have up to a week to figure out how to reach out for help. Who would you reach out to? A neighbor? A government agency? A long-distance or internet friend? How soon will such a person help, assuming that they will help? Do you have a backup person or persons? What communication system would you use to reach out?

Now, let's flip this around. What if someone that you knew either only in passing or barely at all (seeing their car come and go in the mornings in evening) or only online 'vanished'? Messages go unanswered. Mail piles up. A beloved pet is crying constantly in the window. What would you do? How would you reach out?

These kinds of questions have been kicking around in my head today. I've been thinking about how much we matter to each other, even when we're strangers to each other for all practical purposes.

A long time ago a friend of a friend dropped off the email list they were on. This was before the web as we know it today, when email lists were an advanced form of communication. Now this list was so intimately connected that the members all immediately felt a sense of alarm after just a few hours, especially because this person seemed to be up all hours of the day and night and usually responded to questions and comments on the list within a few minutes. When a couple of days had gone by, the members of the list had to decide some pretty serious stuff. Should they worry in the first place? Should they try to find out where this person lives and check on them? Was it too soon to call the police? Were they over-reacting? 

One member, a dear friend of mine, decided that it was better to be safe than sorry. They knew this person was in the region rather than a foreign country. She found their address, and drove (I'm not sure how long) to this person's address and knocked. She heard a weak cry. For reals.

I don't know how she got in, but she found this person on the floor in their own refuse with a broken hip, or so they thought. She called us, and my husband drove over. This person insisted that they didn't want an ambulance, they wanted help from someone who they trusted, and my husband had emergency medical training, and so they managed to get her safely into our car and took her to a chiropractor, who took an x-ray, I believe free of charge because they knew either my friend or the person who was hurt and wanted to help. 

It wasn't a broken hip. Well, it was, but it was advanced bone cancer. 

The story ends sadly, with a very few bright notes where it looked like she might make it after all because she responded to the treatments so very well. In the end, the doctors and really good medicine couldn't save her. But it could have ended so much worse. At least she got excellent medical care at one of the best hospitals in the nation, quality pain management, and visits from real people instead of email messages. These people grew to care about her not just as a person on a list, but a person with warm hands to hold and beautiful eyes to watch as they curved with her infectious smile. 

She didn't die alone on the floor of her apartment in agony. She got help, even when she wasn't able to ask.

There's alone, and then there's truly alone. It's easy to feel isolated, especially in 2020 with the COVID crisis savaging our ability to connect face-to-face. But can we be less alone, if we recalibrate our minds and hearts just a little?

I've been super-guilty of self-isolating. I'm not just doing my part to help keep COVID-19 from overwhelming the health care system. I chat with friends a lot less. I email less. I talk to my neighbors less. And it isn't good for me. I don't think it's good for anyone, not even the most introverted of us.

My husband and I went out for a walk on a trail the other day. We put on our masks when we'd approach someone else on the trail, but we still smiled, waved, said hi to perfect strangers. It was something I used to do (sans mask) a lot more before COVID-19. And I realized not only that I missed it, but that maybe I needed it. My world isn't just my house and garden and the occasional grocery run. There's a whole world out there full of people. A beautiful world. Billions of beautiful people.

I'm not going to conclude with some words of wisdom. You have the questions. You have a story of a woman named Jo. I have in my head these questions and my memories and the feeling of being around people, and people being around me even when I don't see them or really know them. What you do with all that, well, that's up to you.

Stay safe!