WHATEVER HAPPENED TO VISITING

I wrote this piece a few years back when my dog Jake and I would take walks in our neighborhood.  And in the process of those daily "constitutionals" we met many folks and, in our own way, we visited.  Sometimes we strolled along with another dog walker and sometimes it was just a momentary meeting and a few words.  My dog Jake is gone and so I don't get out as much as I used to and I miss my visits.  

Whatever Happened to Visiting?

By

George S. Harris

“At your return, visit our house; let our old acquaintance be renewed.”

William Shakespeare (1564–1616), Justice Shallow, in Henry IV, Part 2, act 3, sc. 2, l. 294.

Whatever happened to the concept of people visiting people to renew or continue a long-standing friendship or simply to catch up on the latest news?  

The word “visit” is a very busy word—it is verb, a transitive verb, an intransitive verb and a noun!  A lot to be said for a little five-letter word.  Take a look at the definition. 

vis·it (vĭz'ĭt)

v., -it·ed, -it·ing, -its.

v.tr.

1.      

a.     To call on socially: visit friends.

b.     To go to see or spend time at (a place) with a certain intent: visit a museum; visited London.

c.     To stay with as a guest.

d.     To go to see in an official or professional capacity: visited the dentist; a priest visiting his parishioners.

2.     To go or come to: visits the bank on Fridays.

3.     To go to see in order to aid or console: visit the sick and dying.

4.     To make itself known to or seize fleetingly: was visited by a bizarre thought.

5.      

a.     To afflict or assail: A plague visited the village.

b.     To inflict punishment on or for; avenge: The sins of the ancestors were visited on their descendants.

v.intr.

1.     To make a visit.

2.     Informal. To converse or chat: Stay and visit with me for a while.

n.

1.     The act or an instance of visiting a person, place, or thing.

2.     A stay or sojourn as a guest.

3.     The act of visiting in a professional capacity.

4.     The act of visiting in an official capacity, such as an inspection or examination.

[Middle English visiten, from Old French visiter, from Latin vīsitāre, frequentative of vīsere, to want to see, go to see, from vidēre, to see.]

Five hundred years ago visiting was a necessity.  There were no planes, trains or automobiles.  Travelers to distant places were forced to stop at the end of the day to “visit” a hostel or, better yet, spend the night in the home of a friend. 

Today’s electronic forms of “visiting” were far in the future.  Telephones were more than 300 years away and computers another hundred years after that.  The Internet, e-mail, instant messaging and web cameras were simply beyond the imagination. 

The term “visit” has many connotations. 

“Visiting” could also be used by kings to keep their followers in line.  If a lord or a knight became a little obtrusive, the king would simply pay a visit on the errant soul and bring along his entire retinue.  The host was obligated to provide for the visitors during their stay.  It didn’t take long for a large crowd to ea t the host out of house and home or cast as the case may be.  Then he was too poor to be threat to the king. 

As noted in the definition of “visit”, it has a dark side.  Plagues were said to be “visited” on sinful nations or peoples.  Evil spirits “visited” folks and made them ill.  Holy men of all sorts were called upon to exorcise the visiting spirits. 

Years ago, doctors visited patients in their homes.  If a priest or pastor came to visit, it might be because you were expected to be meeting your Maker in the not too distant future.  If you had to visit the principal’s office, chances were you were not there to renew an old acquaintance.  Sometimes if the preacher and his wife came to visit, it was generally for Sunday dinner (what many folks call lunch) which most often consisted of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, peas, green beans or some form of “greens” cooked with bacon or salt pork and, of course, homemade pie or layer cake for dessert. 

When I was young boy growing up in a small town in Oklahoma, visiting was almost an art and took many forms.  Those were the days before television and computers.  Porches, big, deep, shady porches were popular.  Porch swings and rocking chairs were in constant use all through the spring, summer and fall.  People would sit on porches in swings or rockers and visit for hours.  Telephone calls were infrequent and the radio was reserved for daily soap operas and the evening news.  Weekend radio brought popular shows like Fred Allen, Fibber McGee and Molly, George Burns and Gracie Allen, Jack Benny, Bob Hope, Red Skelton, Out, Amos and Andy, Lum and Abner, Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy, Milton Berle, and The Kraft Music Hall.  On weekends, my parents, my younger brother and I would visit my maternal grandparents, P.G. and Ola Barnes.  They had a large Philco radio in their living room where we would gather around to listen to the popular shows much as families used to gather around to watch television in its early days.  My grandfather would pop popcorn and, in the summer, lemonade or sweetened iced tea were always favorites. 

My grandmother had visiting down to a science.  In good weather she would sit in her porch swing and people would stop by to visit with her on her nice shady porch.  My brother and I would often “visit” if we were in trouble at home.  My grandmother had a widowed sister who once “visited” for nearly a year before finding a place to live.  After my grandfather retired, he would go to town and sit on one courthouse square’s benches and visit with other old retired men.  Sometimes he would go down to the river and fish with his cronies.  Catching fish was not so important as catching up on what was going on. 

My grandmother had another sister who lived about 10 miles from my hometown.  I loved to visit her and my cousins in the summertime since it always meant making homemade ice cream.  The ingredients would be put in the hand cranked ice cream maker, ice and salt would be packed in and the kids got to turn the crank until the ice cream became too stiff and then the adults would take over.  Finally when it couldn’t be turned any longer, part of the ice would be removed, the lid would be taken off and the “dasher” would be taken out.  The lid would be returned to the top of the can, the hole would be plugged with a cork and the whole thing would be packed in more ice and salt to await eating after dinner.  Ahhh, but the dasher, now that was a different story.  The dasher was a metal and wooden set of paddles that stirred the ice cream mixture to ensure even freezing.  Although it was scrapped thoroughly when it was removed, there was always a battle to see who got to lick the dasher to remove the last remnants of the ice cream. 

My hometown main street was Main Street and on Saturday evenings, it was a popular place to visit.  People would park on Main Street and walk around to see who was in town and they would “visit”.  My mother had severe rheumatoid arthritis and walking was very painful.  She would sit in the car and people would stop by to talk and catch up on the latest news of each other’s families.  Some would stay for half an hour, some only a few minutes.  But all parties got some pleasure from the visit.  We kids would play up and the street, perhaps going to the Meadow Gold Ice Cream Parlor for a 5-cent double dip ice cream cone or into the drugstore for a nickel fountain Coke.  Occasionally we would prowl the aisles of the F. W. Woolworth store looking for a bargain. 

My mother’s arthritis soon took it toll by crippling her so much she could not drive to visit with friends and family.  Driving was left to my father on the weekends and to my brother and me when we got old enough.  But Mom loved to visit—particularly if she was not feeling good.  Now that may seem odd, but bear with me.  There was man in my hometown whose arthritis was far worse than my mother’s.  He constantly complained about his problems and did so with little provocation.  When Mom was having a particularly bad arthritis day she would give him jingle to visit.  Almost immediately he would begin to tell her how bad he was doing.  She would listen patiently and when she would hang up the phone she would say, “Man, I feel so much better now!”  Her telephonic visits gave her friend a chance to have his complaints heard and his complaints made her realize that maybe she didn’t have it so bad that day.  Mom had many lifelong friends she would visit with.  They understood the necessity for telephone visits and some of them would be hours long.  Friends would visit our home often and they were always a welcome sight. 

Extended families would gather on summer Sunday afternoons in the city park to visit and enjoy a family picnic.  These were often potluck affairs with each of the women bringing their favorite dish.  I am sure there was some planning since we never seemed to have all desserts or all potato salad or deviled eggs.  These picnics were always a taster’s delight and you would look forward to Aunt So-and So’s fried chicken or Cousin So-and-So’s deviled eggs and Grandmother So-and-So’s homemade pie.  The women would sit and talk about their families and homemaking ideas.  Men would talk about work, fishing, and how to keep to a car running for money was tight and new cars were infrequent.  The kids would play on swings or perhaps sneak down to the river to throw stones or to watch local fishermen fishing for catfish.

For the adults, visiting might involve playing cards or board games.  Contract bridge, canasta, penny poker and pinochle were popular.  In the 50’s a board game called “Wahoo” came along and was extremely popular in the Midwest.  My parents and my mother’s cousin and her husband were virtually addicted to the game.  My mother’s cousin would call and say they wanted to visit, but they only had time for one game of Wahoo before they had to leave.  And so it would go.  One game and they were off. 

But somewhere along the way, the art of visiting got lost.  Air conditioning meant you no longer had to sit outside on a shady porch, seeking a cooling breeze in the heat of summer.  Parents both began to work to make ends meet.  Television came along and brought all kinds of entertainment into the home.  People went inside, closed their doors and visiting began to die.  The computer age came along and dealt the deathblow to old time visiting.  Now people can “visit” across many time zones with instant messaging programs.  Web cameras have made it possible for us to see and hear each other during our electronic visits.  We no longer have to visit the bank to take care of our banking business.  Checks are deposited electronically and we can pay our bills with the push of a few buttons.  We don’t need to visit the local pharmacy—we can get our prescriptions filled on line, even going internationally to get a cheaper price.  We don’t even have to visit the post office to buy a stamp—we can get them everywhere or we can buy them on line or even print them on our home computer.  We can visit museums and far away places simply by spending a few minutes on the computer.  I recently took a virtual visit of Russia’s Winter Palace and Hermitage Museum in the comfort of my own home.  

When I walked my dog Jake this morning, we went up to the corner store.  I took the time to visit with the owner and we spent our laughing about funny events.  We had a genuine good time even though the visit was only a half an hour.  We caught up on what was going on in our lives and some of the events of the day.  On the way back home, I stopped to visit with a friend who has terminal cancer.  Jake and I didn’t stay long, just long enough to see how things were going, to offer any help we could and let them him know we were available if needed.  

Take time out of your day to go and personally visit with someone—a family member, a friend or someone you know who needs help.  It will refresh you and bring happiness to your day.  Trust me on this one.