We came to Texas for Thanksgiving. Part of the time was spent traveling between San Antonio and Houston, about 200 miles each way, but for a very pleasant purpose. Four of our friends from China joined us for Thursday and Friday, and our Thanksgiving feast. Xu Hong Mei and Mao Mei, teachers from Xi'an, He Yan, a lovely student, and Li Tong, a guy with a Fender Les Paul Guitar.
We toured San Antonio and the River Walk, and had a good time with them.
I am not so sure all of our grandchildren are thoroughly enjoying us being here. The boys have been exiled onto the futon in their dad's office so that grandma and grandpa would have beds. One of the boys was overheard to say "I will sure be glad to have my bed back." His comment caused me to have one of those weird memory flashes: I remembered a song popular to young children that contains the line "I'm so glad when daddy comes home." My mind immediately transposed that to "I'm so glad when granny goes home..." Tomorrow they get their beds back.
One of the nicer of a very large number of nice experiences came last night. I had just finished a game of Yahtzee with my son and Jeffrey, and was still sprawled across the floor, when Catherine came over to me and said "I want a snuggle," whereupon she sidled up against my side, laid her head on my chest, patted my prominent midsection, and settled comfortably in my arm. I got a "happy hit" from that.
I woke up this morning thinking about that experience, and others, involving human touching.
One of the warmest personal experiences I had in China was on the last day of our teaching assignment there, when we took pictures of me giving each student a hug. I have looked at the resulting photos often. Many of the hugs were "photo hugs" with appropriate mugging for the camera. But there were a few that were "different."
Specifically, I recall one student, who was well known on our 25000 student campus for a dramatic and very moving solo performance she gave of a girl begging her father for love. The monologue contained references to alcoholism, physical and verbal abuse, and family suffering. In the photo of our "hug" there is little that suggests a warm contact, though both of us were smiling. Her body language was all about independence and personal strength.
Another girl, who had campus prominence because of her outgoing nature and great communication skills, seemed to literally melt into the hug, with warmth and comfort fully evident. Even the few male students in the class participated, with hugs becoming almost a contest of manliness. One student in particular was an ardent Communist, and we would have long discussions about our political differences. To me, his hug on that last day was one of the warmest and most uniting of my China experience.
There were none who refused to participate.
More recently, back in America, I was talking to a boy of about 14, whom I thought I knew well. During our conversation, to make a point, I reached up (he was taller than I) to put my hand on his shoulder. He quickly flinched away from me, with a look of irritability on his face.
I have since watched him. I have never seen him touched by anyone, including members of his family.
Before I was in college, some sociologists had done a study of orphan monkeys. They had one group raised alone in a cage, while others had in their cage a rag doll, about the size of what a parent monkey would be. The lone monkeys did not thrive physically. Those with the surrogate, cuddled against the doll and developed into much more healthy specimens.
A more recent study reported by a writer on Wikipedia, suggests that there are in fact positive chemical reactions in the body that result from human touch.
I am, unabashedly, a toucher, have been most of my adult life. Most of our friends or family members seem to expect a hug or two at a meeting or departure. Less often, the touch is limited to a handshake or just a friendly smile, and that's ok too.
Oh, I got nice hugs from our Chinese friends when we dropped them off in Houston on Friday.
"
No comments:
Post a Comment