April 11
My family tried a dry run on Zoom yesterday, testing its whistles and bells for the Really Big Show on Easter Sunday.
Thirteen of us crammed inside eight frames displayed in real time on our respective PC screens from Milano, Queens, Buccinasco, Manhattan, Crescenzago, Brooklyn, Monte Maggiore and Roma.
It’s pretty amazing, even if a little sad. You can’t touch and are trapped inside your rectangular borders, unhuggable, thinking so-near-and-yet so-far and absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder.
Hard to believe, but it’s better when my son brings by groceries and we observe social distancing by talking to each other across the doorway entrance. That’s a more real sadness.
But hey, with Zoom the whole gang is together, sort of, digitally at least. Compared to a Jurassic voice call, it’s heaven.
I like how the individual borders flash when people inside them talk. They should have that in real life.
I like how all the individual rectangular borders touch, making family feel attached like on a single sheet of special series postage stamps.
It would be nice if you could cross over and step into another person’s space and be there. I guess they’re working on that.
Our two two-year-olds in the family stared at one another across continents but quickly lost interest. The grown-ups got into a frenzy of dangle-the-tiny-figurines-in-front-of-the-toddlers, which they wisely ignored.
Watching that ridiculous stuff on Zoom makes it easier to understand that kids know we’re crazy.
Here in Italy, as in many places, there are problems holding online classes during the lockdown, because not all families have computers. So don’t forget: you’re lucky to Zoom.
Zoom is rhyme-friendly, so (spoiler alert) here comes a poem.
“Roses are red/Violets are blue/A face like yours/Belongs in the Zoom”
And, don’t forget, Zoom spelled backwards is mooZ, like what cows dooz.
Happy Passover & Happy Easter.