Zooming Out

 

It has been a long five years since the pandemic caused our local society to abandon in-person meetings and exchange them for live online sessions. The funny thing was, though, once the restrictions were lifted and people were no longer required to remain isolated, our organization stuck to the status quo.

There were several reasons for that, first among them being that even our most tech-phobic members discovered the relative convenience of not having to drive somewhere on a blustery evening for the sheer reason of showing support to one's organization. Bunny slippers and hot chocolate or not, staying home is far easier than going anywhere.

Other reasons stood in our way as a group, as well. The onslaught of rising prices everywhere—from a cup of coffee to the gasoline to drive to the meeting—eventually conspired against us. When we used to see multiple offers of free space to use for our meetings, now we see dollar signs. And yet, our budget is constrained, too. It's far cheaper to maintain our website and host online meetings than it is to pay a rental fee for a year's worth of monthly meetings.

The down side to all that, I noticed, was perhaps something other groups might not experience: when we zoomed in to these handy online meetings, everyone sat still and listened to the speaker. Rare was the too-talkative member's interruptions (yet again) of the speaker; everyone was on mute. Even attempts at encouraging discussions among members seemed stilted, mostly a function of the technology, I suspect. The give and take of normal, everyday conversation just doesn't play well over online delivery.

For that reason, our board had been entertaining the idea of finding a way to meet again in person. If only occasionally, we wanted our talkative bunch to get together face to face once again. 

A few months ago, that reality began taking shape. One of our society's members had connections with the people who run our local FamilySearch Center, and asked about the possibility of their co-hosting one of our meetings. This week's meeting was the result of that open house gathering.

What happened at this in-person gathering, as the speaker's presentation finished, was that she recommended our members download the FamilySearch "Family Tree" app to their phone. On that app, she explained, was a section called "Relatives Around Me." Since I already knew there were several members who had already downloaded the app, I asked if we could all pull out our phones and try it during the gathering.

Almost immediately, people began calling out, "who's John?" or "who's Nancy?" We had several visitors for that meeting, so it became a time for people to meet each other—especially those people who, unbeknownst to them, might actually be distant cousins with someone else in the same room.

Of course, such calculations are only as good as the trees from which they are gleaned, but it was a great ice-breaker. Even more than that, I can't imagine any such form of interaction occurring, had we held a meeting like that online.

The electric energy level that carried through the next half hour, people sitting around computers, comparing notes on family trees, or sharing stories about research conquests or battles to overcome brick-wall ancestors—I can't imagine that happening online. Spontaneous life happens best in, well, real life. We can approximate it through technology. Make meeting easier through technology. But technology can't make life real. That comes with people reaching out to people, face to face in real life.