If asked what I missed most about the past two or three years – the plague years – I’d have to say hugs. During COVID-19, instead of an embrace when meeting an intimate, I’d have to wonder: “Fist bump? Elbow bump? Or smile and yell ‘Hi!’ from 15 feet away?”
Before COVID-19, we could hug, kiss and/or shake hands without fear of contamination, without terror of exchanging bodily breath or palm pestilence, without angst of wondering with whom that person had been in close contact the past 72 hours.
But now the hug is back. Big time. Everyone’s hugging – friends, relations, the postal carrier. Well, maybe not the latter, but you never know. Just because I’ve not witnessed such an awesome spectacle doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened – like the 1969 moon landing.
Lately, on a vacation in northern Wisconsin, I ran into people I’ve known anywhere from 60 seconds to 60 years and was the recipient and giver of hugs as numerous as ticks in tall grass. Since then, I’ve reflected on those quick cuddles and discovered three distinct types.
The “cool hug” is used when the hugger is uncertain about one’s relationship with the huggee. For example, an old friend introduced me to her daughter whom I’d never met. Ordinarily, convention would suggest no hug or handshake, but because she’d already hugged someone in our group she knew, everyone felt obliged to follow suit.
So we hugged, a tentative, light, two-handed double tap on the back and immediate release. Also known as the “obligatory hug,” it’s used at cocktail parties where everyone is required to hug the hostess.
When in doubt which hug to use, The Lukewarm is the default. Arms enfold the huggee, a slight pull inward, a modicum of pressure as if leading in a waltz, three or four palm pats just below the scapulae, and a release neither above nor below the speed limit.
The “lukewarm” fits most occasions, from meeting at your 50th reunion the boy you bullied in middle school, to the sister you never really warmed to. It’s a one-size-fits-all that won’t get you in too much trouble, even if the huggee was expecting “the cool.”
“The hot” means business. Outstretched arms precede bodily contact, as do broad smiles on both huggee and hugger, then the meeting (not beating) of chests, an enclosure of enraptured arms, and multiple poundings on the back. It’s a lovely, loving hug. If you’ve never had one, get out of your cave.
Driving home from Wisconsin, I told my son about the three hugs. He remained silent for a few seconds then said, “There’s a girl who’s up north every summer and she gives me the kind of hug you get when you haven’t seen someone for a long time. It’s amazing.”
The “amazing hug.” He’s right! Hotter than “the hot.”
“The amazing” burns, it brands, it sizzles. If a hugger clasps the huggee with the “amazing,” expectations must be 100% that the huggee will return with his or her own “amazing.”
Four arms ensnare the bodies that twist and turn and shimmy with joy as if shaking snow off a parka. Backs are beaten with hands like sledgehammers. A kiss or two is not out of the question. Before and after the clench, adoring, longing, looks into each other’s eyes! Finally, after the seemingly endless unwavering, steadfast fastening, hands linger over a love handle or shapely hip.
In leaving, however, “the amazing” promises to return next year, next month, or next day, forever.
• Rick Holinger’s writing has appeared in more than 100 literary journals. He holds a Ph.D. in creative writing from UIC. His poetry book “North of Crivitz” and essay collection “Kangaroo Rabbits and Galvanized Fences” are available at local bookstores, Amazon or richardholinger.net. Contact him at editorial@kcchronicle.com.