Finding my heart in a simple summer-solstice hug

By Mary Kay Roth

I’m not really sure how you describe a hug.

Webster’s says this: “To press someone tightly in one’s arms, especially as a sign of affection.”

Wikipedia explains that hugs are generally a “form of endearment in human communities, in which two or more people put their arms around the neck, back or waist of another, and hold each other closely.”

I can tell you this much. On Saturday, summer solstice 2020, I hugged my wee granddaughters – Scout and Everlyn – for the first time in more than three months. And they hugged me back. Tenderly. Fiercely.

It was a hug to end all hugs. A hug that defied Webster’s and Wikipedia.  A colossal, super-duper, wing dinger of a hug – filled with heart and soul, tears and giggles, affection and memory. A hug that my dad, who gave the greatest granddaddy of all bear hugs, would have been proud.

Yes, you can Zoom and FaceTime.  You can press your hands up against a glass window or door.  You can stand six feet apart, open your arms and pretend.  But it just doesn’t work like the magic of true touch.

The ongoing pandemic has created titanic losses in our world and I never want to underestimate the tragedy of losing lives and economic stability, nor the catastrophic glare of inequity that plagues this crisis. But forgive me, I would also count hugs as a monumental loss. 

A shoulder to cry on.  The simple touch of understanding. The healing power and wonder of connection. That wash of comfort that defies logic. The quiet embrace that says, without a word, everything will be all right. 

The word hug likely originates from 'hugga', an Old Norse term that first appeared 450 years ago and meant 'to comfort.' However, the history of the act of hugging is a little fuzzier, though many zoologists believe you can see beginnings rooted in the early history of mammals:  Elephants linking trunks, big cats nuzzling, chimps holding one another. 

On the other hand, scientific research is completely clear that there is healing power in a hug, as an embrace brings increased flow of oxytocin – a hormone that calms nerves and boosts positive emotions.  In other words, a good hug: 

·      Lowers your blood pressure

·      Lowers your cortisol (the stress hormone)

·      Increases your social connection and sense of belonging

There’s an old wives’ tale that professes each time someone warmly embraces you, your life is extended by one more day. I’m not so sure about the validity of that claim, but we do know that in several documented studies:

·      Students that received a supportive touch from teachers were twice as likely to raise their hands in class.

·      A sympathetic touch by a doctor gave patients an impression that their appointment lasted twice as long as it did.

·      Patients who received physical touch often experienced reduced pain and reduced symptoms of depression.

Healthy or not, hugs became one of the many casualties of this raging global pandemic, with responsible people shutting their doors and embracing the concept of no embraces.  Months marched on and curves indeed flattened.  But today, due to a monstrous lack of state and national leadership, we are left to navigate these turbulent and confusing waters on our own. To get a haircut or not?  To go to the pool, the farmer’s market, a restaurant – or not?  To hug – or not to hug? 

I believe each family has their own unique story, a patchwork of puzzle pieces they must consider. Like so many folks, my kids and I are scrambling for solid, sensible principles – aiming to make decisions based on integrity and good judgment.  Rest assured, I’m not heading for indoor rallies, and my daughter has opted to delay visits to public pools and community playgrounds. Our family members diligently wash hands and wear masks in indoor and compact public spaces. We are keeping tabs on community spread. And since my daughter is a nurse, we are also guided by significantly increased testing in the nursing home where she works.  Finally, we recognize that ongoing vigilance is required and at some point we might need to take a step back.

But for now we are taking a leap of faith and choosing to end the moratorium on hugs with my grandbabies.  I believe the hot summer of 2020 could be a rough one and I am going to fortify my home with the power of touch.  

I recognize – in the grand scheme of this chaotic, troubled, world –  the question of a hug seems pretty insignificant.  But for one moment, on this very first day of summer, it was everything to me.