Have you ever been in a room with no windows? I have, and it was an awful experience.
In 1967, Gerry and I decided to go on a cruise to celebrate our fifth anniversary. To make the trip more affordable, we reserved an inside room on a low deck — an inside room meant no window (porthole). It was $200 cheaper, which was a lot of money at that time. We figured we’d just be in the room for sleeping so what did a window matter?
Well, the next morning I woke up and thought, it must still be nighttime as it was pitch black. I fumbled for the light switch to check the clock and shockingly saw it was seven o’clock. Oh my goodness, still dark but time to get up. Very disorienting. What was the weather like outside? How should we dress? The room suddenly felt like we were housed in a big closet. It was awful having no connection to the outside world.
And, since COVID, I realize more-than-ever how important windows are, especially for people who have been confined in nursing homes and hospitals. Life has been more-than-ever difficult for them because their visitations and social interactions were very restricted. Windows were their connection to the outside world. Not only could they check out the weather, the birds and plants, but the comings and goings of people outside became a part of their lives.
We have a friend, an optimistic person, who moved into a very nice assisted-living home just when COVID was starting, just as isolation was being put into effect. So, instead of the usual communal eating and social activities, the residents had to stay in their own small apartments. Family members couldn’t even visit. The window became our friend’s salvation. He observes the many passersby who became regulars. The familiar faces became important to him and he has begun to consider their occupations by their dress, energy , and time schedules and got to know if they were running late and having to hurry or having a relaxed leisurely start to their day. His window inspires his imagination and connects him to the outside world … the people he sees regularly have become vicarious friends.
Our son has a homebound friend nearby whose day is filled with observing the activities of neighbors from his chair by the window. People wave when they walk by, and when we’re there we toot the horn when we drive by. He told our son he loves to hear the toots. His window keeps him connected with the outside world. It’s good for us to know how much just a wave or a toot can mean to someone. It tells them they’re remembered. No one should be forgotten.
And let us appreciate the advances in glass production. Years ago glass had to be hand blown and windowpanes were small and the glass was irregular. I remember the awe I felt when I first saw a picture window, it was like looking at a beautiful landscape painting, also the bay window where we can get a view in three directions, and sliding glass doors with floor-to-ceiling views. I am thankful for the engineering and inventiveness that has made these advances available to us.
Just think how often we look out our windows — checking the weather, watching plants spring back to life, observing neighborhood activities, seeing passing cars, and watching joggers and walkers, not to mention the benefits we get from the light and sunshine that windows allow to pass in to us. Windows keep us connected to life in the outside world. COVID couldn’t stop that. (And I can’t neglect to mention my special needs son who lives in a group home whom we visited many times from outside looking through his window, which kept us connected to his inside isolated world.)
I told Gerry that never again will we sacrifice a porthole for a few dollars. The window is more important than money, and in appreciation for the importance of those portholes in our lives, I think I’ll clean my windows on the next good spring day.
Carole J. Gariepy is a resident of Phillipston.