I'm reading about social networks again though I'm not really on any of them. I've got a LinkedIn account I thought would be a good for business connections, but, as with any social network, it's a terrible way to connect. It has provided a few opportunities to prepare for connecting, but for real connection it's as sucky as Facebook, Twitter, and the rest, just not quite as evil. Despite not being involved with social networks, I keep thinking about them as I do about this virus. Terrible, poisonous stuff but still intriguing.

Some of what has me thinking this way is isolation. You're probably isolated too. I hope so. It's the primary tool in turning the tide of this pandemic and anyone who says otherwise is a fool duped by misinformation.

Isolation is tough. Friday our family had a video call with another family whom we miss terribly. The call was lovely, but I grew sad as it went on. Talking over video beats the hell out of not connecting, but it's a poor substitute for visiting their house, hugging each of them in turn, and absorbing their full presence. Video isn't even close. I'm grateful for it, but it amplified my longing for real intimacy.

That video call was at least a targeted, private connection. We weren't posting notes on a commercial bulletin board, weren't trying to impress others, weren't doing the things social media seems to demand. Video is a poor imitation of real connection and intimacy, but social media is way further down the line.

Writing that, I think of those who connect with far away friends and family via social media. I hear those who say they're on Facebook to see pictures and hear news of grandchildren, old coworkers, students, and so on. I get that and yet I still disagree that they are connecting much at all.

My wife explained her reasons for remaining on Facebook. She hardly ever posts. She keeps up with people with whom she might otherwise lose touch. She accepts the bad of Facebook the way I accept Google's huge failings so I can keep using Gmail. But here's the thing: I don't believe any of that really counts as keeping in touch. It's faux contact, fake connections, imitation social interaction. Worse, it hides from us the fact that we are growing more isolated through the uses of these things.

I got sad at the end of our video calls because it demonstrated how separated we are. The medium highlighted our distance and seemed to extend it. I craved real connections such as:

• Visiting our friends' home, bringing wine and dessert, having dinner, and staying late because we don't want to leave one another's company.
• Receiving a call out of the blue from my college roommate who lives in Texas, my wife, he, and I talking for half an hour; three friends who have known one another thirty years.
• Having a meeting over coffee with people doing similar work, talking, making notes, shaking hands, and being on a team.
• Stopping on a run to talk with a friend about how his kids, the job, and a concert he attended, then telling him about my job and a book I just read.
• Attending writing group, sharing coffee and taking turns to read our pieces aloud to one another gathered around a table together.
• Receiving a friend's poem over email, feeling moved by it, and writing back to thank her and to ask if I can share it.

Not all connection has to be in person. Some can be mediated by technology. But shouting in public is a bad way to connect. I don't broadcast conversations with my wife because I treasure my connection with her. Try having that conversation on Facebook and you'll come up empty or worse. I'm not about to try that.

She says Facebook seems like the playground of showoffs. I say Twitter is the sandbox of discord. Agreeing on that, we moved on to talking about her family and job. The sunset glowed through the window and dimmed as we talked there on the couch. I flipped the record on the turntable. The cat joined us. I felt love binding me with my wife. We felt truly connected with one another. It was absolute bliss.

How we did all that without Mark Zuckerberg's or Jack Dorsey's help, it's just such a mystery.