On Feb. 26, 2025, first responders found Betsy Arakawa, 65, dead on the bathroom floor of the palatial Sante Fe, N.M., home she shared with husband and Hollywood star Gene Hackman, 95. Hackman’s body was found in the mudroom. Investigation revealed that Arakawa had died around Feb. 11 of a rare rodent-borne disease, hantavirus pulmonary syndrome, while Hackman succumbed a week later from heart disease and lack of food and water, conditions exacerbated by Alzheimer’s.
Hackman and his wife were reportedly on good terms with his three children, who are themselves advanced in years, and he and Arakawa surely had friends and business associates who might have wondered why they had dropped out of contact. Yet it was Jesse Kesler, the couple’s longtime contractor and handy man, who first discovered Arakawa’s body after her failure to respond to his emails.
We might dismiss this strange incident as a case of error and chance, yet it strikes me that the deaths of Hackman and his wife – Arakawa was apparently a loving and excellent caretaker – serve as a metaphor of isolation for our culture at large.
In 2000, Robert Putnam published “Bowling Alone,” his study of the decline in American social relationships and the concomitant rise in loneliness and isolation. Twenty-three years later, Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy reported that America was suffering an epidemic of loneliness which was more damaging to individual health than “obesity or physical inactivity.”
In a letter accompanying this report, Murthy wrote:
People began to tell me they felt isolated, invisible, and insignificant. Even when they couldn’t put their finger on the word ‘lonely,’ time and time again, people of all ages and socioeconomic backgrounds, from every corner of the country, would tell me, ‘I have to shoulder all of life’s burdens by myself,’ or ‘if I disappear tomorrow, no one will even notice.’
Some commentators blame this skyrocketing sense of separation from one another on our smartphones, screens and social media, an ironic twist given that these devices were touted as enhancing human connectivity. In “The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness,” Jonathan Haidt addresses this increase in solitude among screen-obsessed teens as part of his critique. Leonard Sax’s “The Collapse of Parenting” broadens that target to include what he calls “our toxic culture,” which with its focus on the individual and on self-esteem has diminished healthy social interactions.
If we pay the slightest attention, we see evidence of this isolation everywhere. In my town, for instance, it is more common than not to spot some lone sidewalk pedestrian hunched over a phone, oblivious to all but the tiny screen in the palm of the hand. And in my neighborhood, most residents know little about the other property owners, even their names. Recently, I was surprised to learn that the couple in the house next to mine has a 15-year-old daughter. “She stays inside most of the time,” her father explained.
We’ve been neighbors for more than five years.
Aware of this epidemic, lots of online counselors offer good advice on overcoming loneliness. Become a volunteer is one popular suggestion. Join a club. Engage with your community through events and meetings. Keep in regular touch with friends and relatives. Distract yourself from temporary feelings of loneliness by doing projects around the house. There are even sites advising you how to overcome loneliness without the benefit of friends.
These are admirable suggestions for individuals living in the here and now, but equally needed are long-term solutions for our epidemic of loneliness. Here is where parents, grandparents, educators and mentors come into play. By word and by example, children can be taught from an early age to show consideration for others, to value face-to-face encounters over digital relationships, to keep an eye on the old and the infirm they may know, and to reward even the services of the convenience store cashier or the coffee-shop barista with a smile and a “thank you.”
These small actions not only lift the spirits of others, they work to uplift us as well. Isaiah 58:10 hits this nail squarely on the head, saying, “If you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday.” Many Americans today are afflicted with loneliness, and people are more likely hungry for a kind word than for bread.
Here I’ve taken my own advice by asking my neighbors, including their 15-year-old daughter, to supper, with the date remaining to be set.
There are many ways of dying, and one of them is feeling alone and alienated from others. The only cure for that condition is us.
Jeff Minick is a father of four and grandfather to many. A former history, literature, and Latin teacher, Jeff now writes prolifically for The Epoch Times, American Essence Magazine, and several other publications.
This culture article was made possible by The Fred & Rheta Skelton Center for Cultural Renewal, a project of 1819 News. To comment on this article, please email [email protected]. The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News.
Don’t miss out! Subscribe to our newsletter and get our top stories every weekday morning.
