Zen Artistry in the Modern World
Requiem for the Departed Via Zoom
Richard A. Gershon
I recently finished a Zoom conversation with a longtime set of telecommunications colleagues. As the meeting ended
and the familiar gallery of faces disappeared from my screen, I was reminded of one of the first times I experienced video conferencing not as a business tool, but as something very personal and deeply human.
In the final days leading up to the passing of my mother-in-law, Dr. Janet Perrigo Brown, our family gathered around her bedside through various laptop and tablet devices. It was January 2021. Vermont was under strict pandemic restrictions, travel was nearly impossible, and hospitals limited visitors. We could not be physically present, but we could still be together.
Dr. Brown, former Professor of Nursing at the University of Vermont, approached every aspect of life with extraordinary
care and precision. She was very old school in how she conducted herself. She loved teaching and took particular pride in
serving as the standard bearer during University processions, carrying the ceremonial mace with quiet dignity and unwavering attention to tradition. She planned every detail of her affairs, from funeral arrangements to multiple revisions of her will.
Her declining health was complicated by cancer, and after contracting COVID-19, she remained hospitalized as the virus further weakened her. Our family found itself doing something that, only months earlier, would have seemed unimaginable. Brothers, sisters, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and close friends gathered through Zoom. My brother-in-law Tony was
the only person allowed to remain in the room itself. He positioned a monitor beside her bed so that we could all be present with her. We laughed, cried, reminisced, and quietly kept vigil together. Technology did not replace human presence, but it became the bridge that allowed us to share one of life's most sacred moments.
As I stared into the iPad screen, I was reminded that in times of crisis, necessity is the mother of invention. Technologies
born during periods of conflict or disaster often find new life in the civilian world. During World War II, innovations such as radar, synthetic rubber, the Jeep, and even duct tape helped the Allied forces wage war on a global scale. In the decades that followed, each became part of everyday life. The same has been true of natural disasters. Following Hurricane Katrina, early aerial drones were deployed to search for survivors and assess flood conditions. Since then, increasingly frequent hurricanes, tornadoes, and wildfires have accelerated the development of technologies for disaster preparedness, resilience, and risk reduction. In January 2021, we were fighting a very different kind of world war. The enemy was an unseen virus that disrupted schools, universities, businesses, governments, and families across the globe. Like wars and natural disasters before it, the pandemic accelerated innovation that otherwise might have taken decades.
As a University professor, I watched higher education transform almost overnight. Faculty members who had never taught online suddenly found themselves learning new technologies at a frantic pace. Those first weeks felt like drinking from a firehose. Yet within a year, educators around the world had adapted. Online instruction was no longer an experiment but an accepted part of higher education. Economist Joseph Schumpeter described this phenomenon as creative destruction —
the disruptive force through which innovation permanently reshapes society. Today, on-line instruction courses have become fully integrated into University teaching and degree programs.
Business underwent a similar transformation. Before Covid-19, telecommuting remained more theory than practice.
Managers questioned whether employees could remain productive outside the traditional office. The pandemic answered
that question almost overnight. Home offices became permanent workplaces equipped with high-speed internet, laptops, video conferencing, and smartphones. Hybrid work, once considered an exception, has become a defining feature of the modern workplace.
Today, video communication is no longer remarkable. It has become steadily woven into everyday life. We move effortlessly between in-person conversations and virtual ones, often without giving the technology a second thought. Remote collaboration spans continents. Physicians meet with patients through telehealth. Grandparents read bedtime stories to grandchildren hundreds of miles away. Distance has become less of a barrier than it once was.
Yet something else has become equally clear.
Zoom technology, by itself, creates neither intimacy nor isolation. It simply amplifies the intentions of those who use it.
As technology becomes more sophisticated, our need for authentic human connection grows stronger. The real question
is not whether we should embrace technology, but whether we allow it to serve our humanity rather than replace it.
Dr. Brown belonged to an earlier generation. She treasured handwritten letters, family photo albums, commencement ceremonies, and the quiet dignity of face-to-face conversation. In a sense, we said good-by not only to Dr. Janet Perrigo Brown, but also to an analog way of thinking about education, business, and even family life. The pandemic accelerated
a digital transformation that was already underway. Yet its most enduring lesson was not about technology at all.
It was about human connection. I still remember looking into that iPad and seeing the faces of our family gathered through
a technology Dr. Brown’s generation never imagined, yet creating a connection that was profoundly personal.
After a time, the technology steadily faded into the background; what remained was the simple act of being present
for one another. Had she witnessed those final hours from our perspective, I believe she would have recognized that
compassion and caring had simply found a new medium. The highest purpose of innovation is not speed, efficiency,
or convenience. It is to help us remain fully present to one another, even when circumstances keep us apart. High tech achieves its greatest value when it makes possible an act of high touch. We laughed. We cried. We quietly supported one another through small conversations and shared remembrances. There was humor, there were tears, but most of all there were stories. And that, Dr. Brown would very much have appreciated.