The family Zoom call: a modern tale
Some people I know are Zoomed out. Tired of sitting still, looking groomed, making small talk or big talk, as businesses do, waving and smiling or frowning, enduring awkward pauses, unmuting oneself.
Seems like a lifetime ago I learned the technology.
We Ganleys gave the task of setting it up to No. 2 son Michael in Edmonton. Sundays, 4 p.m. Eastern; 15 people in three time zones, three families with kids, plus me, Grandma, in Peterborough.
Attendance is optional, but has been robust.
The contributions have been interesting and varied. Megan, 17, spends Sundays on her horse at the stable. But she is a joiner. So we see video of the horse, Annie, and Megan riding off into the sunset. We get quite a few shots of hindquarters.
We hear Jack, 17, from Vancouver Island, tell us about his dreaded advanced placement economics exam.
Emma, 11, from Newmarket, prefers to repair to her room with her tablet and take part in the family Zoom by chat. “What’s economics?” appears across our screens. Jack answers: ”Money, markets, trade, income.”
“Oh,” she writes knowingly.
Jack and his sister Jensa, 15, miss their island-level soccer so much they have taken to watching Bundesliga from Germany, playing without fans. Our favourite team is Bayern Munich, whose star player is Canadian Alphonso Davies. I’m simply telling you what there is to learn on a family Zoom call.
Ava, 8, Newmarket, prepares carefully for family Zoom. She brings her latest impressionist water colours.
Me: “Is that a sunrise or a sunset?” She also brings a big bowl of popcorn and uses two hands to enjoy it.
“Ava,” says Uncle Jim,” I can smell that popcorn. How about sharing?”
Then Ava announces politely, “I have to LEAVE MEETING now.” We’ll miss her.
Thomas, 19, from Edmonton, has a job at the University of Alberta. He’s a science guy. His job is in satellite development for forest fires.
“That’s socially useful,” I say. “If it doesn’t work out, pivot to vaccine research.”
He laughs. “I don’t think I have the skills set for that, Grandma.”
Some folks look as if they have just gotten out of bed.
There is a lot of discussion of hair styles. The girls demonstrate long braids, topknots and flowing tresses. The men are just craggy, awaiting the reopening of barber shops.
“Jensa does mine,” Jim reports. “It was her first cut, but she feels underpaid.”
Shots are shown of the new trampoline in Newmarket and the therapy pool going in on Vancouver Island. Seems Jill is doing most of the lugging. The pool will be a great boon to Jay, 11, who is a family favourite.
“I need to put the potatoes on,” says Belinda, mom in Edmonton.
“I’m working on our front lawn” says Paul, in Newmarket. “Looks like scorched earth. But I also do my jiu jitsu online.”
“With a dummy,” adds Emma, helpfully.
Danielle, a teacher in Newmarket, regales the meeting with stories of a Ministry of Education inspection that took place even within the lockdown.
I’m afraid to physically move around in fear of breaking the connection, but I’ve arranged my background to show a different wedding photo of a son and his bride.
This has led to charges of favouritism, so now I have to remember to change the photo before Zooming.
Time for Netflix recommendations.
“Outer Banks,” says Megan, who loves all things Hawaiian.
“Unorthodox,” says Mike, ever globally minded. “The Climb,” says Sarah, 16, from Edmonton. “We saw it in French class before school ended.”
Jim, who is an English teacher, reminds me that American humour writer David Sedaris frequently “throws his relatives under the bus,” so to speak, by mentioning them in his columns in order to get a laugh.
I promise to be careful.
This pandemic has actually let us into each others’ lives more fully.