Now Let Us Play

Play begins in a quest for novelty. And the novel coronavirus, which has left hundreds of millions of Americans housebound and as of this writing hundreds of thousands among us falling ill, has been called a “game-changer.”

Quite literally.

During this pandemic, play is proving to be a powerful weapon to combat the wearing psychological effects of isolation. Play is not denial. Play is fighting back. Play is no substitute for rigorous and coordinated public health measures. And play offers no vaccine for health care workers and mental health professionals, the first responders and transportation workers, the public servants marshaling government’s forces, and the teachers who are re-imagining their virtual classrooms, all this era’s heroes who square off against the national trauma.

But for the creeping dread that, along with the coronavirus, has spread east to west and then rolled inexorably toward the middle of the United States, play is a tonic.

Source: Christine Eberle, used with permission

And so, recommendations and suggestions emerge from hot spots across the country. The New York Times recommended that its self-isolating readers join kids to play electronic games (Minecraft, Roblox, and Fortnite, Gang Beasts, and Rocket League), contests, he wrote, that “won’t drive you crazy.” You’ll find, though, that kids are the experts. And the senior editor who wrangles the crossword column encourages resurrecting the ingenious and simple game 20 Questions. The game calls upon deductive reasoning and calls out your creativity. And you don’t even need an internet connection. Unplug!

Forbes, the biweekly and ever purposeful business magazine, suggested sourcing popular virtual reality workout programs. Sweat, surely; but sweat competitively and playfully. The Washington Post proposed turning home into a staycation hotel, role-playing room service and spreading out the beach blanket in the living room. Turn up the heat, put on your swimsuit. Stretch out. Finish that spy novel that you started last summer. The Detroit News reported how friends are scheduling group happy hours through teleconferencing technology. Here’s to good friends! Cheers! The Chicago Tribune proposed playing the mischievous and politically incorrect party game, Cards Against Humanity. Naughty, naughty, and all that jazz. The Denver Post suggested conducting playful tabletop science experiments like sinking a stalk of celery in colored water and watching the hues soak upward or concocting homemade Silly Putty. Mush! The Los Angeles Times advised accessing “desktop thrillers” such as Her Story and Telling Lies online. Yikes! And in the hard-hit but culturally rich hub of the Northwest, the Seattle Times spread the news of live and lively music events that can be streamed. Bravo, Seattle.

Esquire magazine writer Justin Kirkland found himself missing water-cooler chitchat and after-work tavern give-and-take with co-workers. Also missing the keen vibe and conviviality of his now sequestered hometown, Brooklyn, he looked for connection and competition in the online game Words with Friends. And there he invariably found someone game “to challenge me and to tell me that I’m an S.O.B. for using the word qat, as if I had any idea what it means.” What is qat anyhow? A desert oasis? A hallucinogenic herb? A toolbar tab? A multilateral treaty organization? Inquiring minds want to know.

My alma mater, the hands-on Strong National Museum of Play in Rochester, New York, a place of inquiry and energy, though like other arts and cultural organizations shuttered for an interval, wisely prompts hunkered-down families to engage with a rich variety of playful projects that blend education and fun. Among the projects that the museum’s website suggests:

• Create your own photo booth. Improvise fake mustaches and goofy glasses from construction paper. Dress in costumes from last Halloween. Say cheese!
• Celebrate “Talk Like a Pirate Day” early this year. Gather props from around the house. Sew an eyepatch. Stage a shipboard tea party. Harrrr.
• Turn a cardboard box into a story generator. Cut some arm holes into a carton, draw on some gizmos. Walk like a robot. Wave your arms. Shout “danger Will Robinson!” To play is to pretend.
• Customize your little red wagon as a recreation vehicle. Take a red bandanna, or any bandana, or any bit of paper or fabric that might pass as a bandana and tie it around your neck. Sing “Me and Bobby McGee.” “Windshield wipers keepin’ time/holdin’Bobby’s hand in mine.” To play is to move on.
• Make your own puzzle. Paint a picture. Scissor it into crooked shapes. Mess it up. Reassemble. Now turn it over. Mess it up again. And reassemble. To play is to strive.
• Invent your own recipe. Play is about making the rules. Play is also about breaking the rules creatively. So. Break out the food coloring and throw out the rules. Who says corn muffins must be yellow? Where’s it written that mashed potatoes can’t be green? To play is to create.
• Build your own ROYGBIV rainbow from found household objects. A red book. A mandarin orange. A banana. A green alligator. A blue recycling bin. An indigo eggplant. Violet undies! Sing “Rainbow Connection” like Kermit the Frog. But sing in harmony. To play is to harmonize.

And a final observation. Though we’re distanced physically, we need not be isolated socially. Though we’re confined and sometimes stuck inside, most of us need not be cut off from fun and from each other. Though the playgrounds are closed, as the forlorn sign illustrating this piece shows, play thrives as we now thrive on it. Snap funny pictures. Shoot funny videos. Send them to your friends. Share the fun. To play is to lose yourself. To play is also to find yourself. To play is to connect, too. To play is to reach out. And to reach out is to reach for resilience. And to reach out for resilience is to find the strength of understanding that we’re all in this together.