The commercials make me laugh. . . And sad

I am endlessly entertained by the Progressive insurance commercials. They’re legit funny.

If you’ve watched 30 minutes of TV you’ve seen them. The premise is that as we age we gradually turn into our parents. In the commercials there is usually a group of 50-somethings wearing the head-to-toe equivalent of dad jeans.

They’ve engaged the services of Dr. Rick, who is a “Parenta-life Coach,” to remind them when they are crossing the “becoming” line.

So in one sketch the group is at a street fair and one of them says they’d “better put together a plan of how to attack this.”

“We’re at a farmer’s market,” Dr. Rick deadpans. “No one is attacking anything.”

When the campaign started, years ago, it was more cranky, “Hey, shut the window. Are we trying to heat the whole outdoors?” kinda stuff.

But it has obviously been popular and now that we know the characters, it’s become a little more pointed.

Now the laugh is that the “becoming” subjects are so eye-rollingly clueless that you have to laugh. And of course, Dr. Rick’s efforts are resolutely unsuccessful.

So (see above) Keith and Dr. Rick are at the deli when they spot LL Cool J.

“Now, Dr. Rick begins, “let’s imagine that LL Cool J has a bubble around . . .

“Hi I’m Keith,” our mid-parent blurts, rushing over to force an awkward handshake.

Seriously funny. You can see why this advertising arc has persisted. (Although not sure what it has to do with insurance.)

Full marks.

Hilarious.

Except . . .

I’m just going to speak for myself here, but I’ll bet others know the feeling.

I am quietly in mortal terror that’s me. That I’m the one rolling out ear-bending stories and letting recent cultural references and changes sail over my head.

I recently heard an interview where a guy, to make fun of someone scoffed, “He’s still using hashtags.”

What? We aren’t using hashtags any more?

Where’s Dr. Rick when I need him?

All of which is a wind up to what I hope is a serious point.

I laugh at those ads, but they also make me more wary of reaching out, speaking to people and initiating contact.

We’re in a dog-walking neighborhood and running into neighbors on a walk is pretty much a given. And I am very conscious, especially if they are several years younger, that I hope I am not coming across as the neighborhood windbag. Or that I make some kind of dumb gaffe about TikTok or something.

Because I don’t want to play that part in Dr. Rick’s ad.

You can see where this is headed. It’s all over the news.

Seniors are experiencing epic bouts of loneliness.

There are loads of studies showing this. This one, located at random by Googling, is from the University of Michigan. It found that one in three seniors, aged 50-80, feel lonely and often isolated.

And it’s probably not a mystery. If you work in an office or at a job you interact with dozens of people all the time. Maybe you had kids in school and met other parents.

But when you’re not working, the frictionless interactions are less common. There are long stretches of empty, unplanned time. You don’t just bump into people, you need to make an effort.

Of course the concern is, what if we do that and we’re intruding? What would Dr. Rick say?

And that’s why I am recommending a book.

It’s The Correspondent, and if you haven’t read it you probably know someone who has. It’s a runaway best seller.

It’s a short novel, entirely composed of letters, mostly written by a prickly, proper older woman who values the power of the written word. She reaches out to all kinds of people. Some of them are from her life, and some, like renown novelist (and personal fav) Ann Patchett, are famous.

It’s entertaining, and our correspondent makes a case for good stationary and a nice pen. But the real point she’s making is the reaching out. Of taking the first step. Of initiating contact.

So, in my own modest way, I’ve been trying it.

I joined a pickleball group. And I’ll be honest, there were a serious first-day-of-school vibe when I walked up to a group of strangers at the courts.

But it’s been great. The regulars are outgoing and friendly, with a casual group feel. The game is easy and engaging enough to hold your interest but there’s still space for idle chat. (Picklers say two thumbs up for The Odyssey BTW.) It’s fun.

I checked in with an old friend who now lives in the midwest. Wrote to someone I went to school with from fourth grade through college. Texted a sometime golf partner who lived in our building in San Francisco.

And it’s been surprisingly pleasant.

Let’s be honest. We’re not saving the world here. There’s a lot more talk about what happened than what’s happening. We’re pretty careful with talking politics.

But it is nice to have some casual conversation.

I’ve cast a fairly wide net and frankly, some people aren’t interested. Which is fine. Got a reply, usually with a “good to hear from you again,” and that may be it.

But that’s also the point — for all of us. We existed for years in polite society. We can read a room. We haven’t gone tone deaf. If we are overdoing it, we’ll know.

And that’s important because . . .

I do talk too much.

I realized it when I was playing golf with Phil and Hubert who have allowed me to join them for their regular weekly rounds. I was standing over a putt and I caught myself thinking about an interesting news story I was going to tell them about, rather than how hard to hit the putt.

So yeah, there are times when I have to remind myself to put a cork in it.

Which I do. I have access to a cork.

And so do you. So do all of us. And if you want to ask the waiter how busy the restaurant has been tonight (a personal violation, as I’ve been reminded) go ahead. He’s in the service industry. He can make conversation.

Anyhow, when I’m laughing at those commercials, it also makes me think of this.

And, there’s even a kicker.

One of our lunch friends was the first of our group to read The Correspondent. He was so taken with the book, and admonition to reach out, that he did.

He wrote a letter to the author, Virginia Evans.

And he got back a pre-printed postcard saying in so many words, “Since the book came out I’ve been so swamped with letters I can’t keep up. Sorry.”

So I guess it is working.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cwnevius@gmail.com. Twitter and Threads @cwnevius