I don’t see too much of it anymore, but when it crosses my line of vision, I pause and take notice.

Not too long ago, I drove past a park where a group of girls and boys, quite possibly a preschool or kindergarten class, was walking up a trail. Two by two, they held each other’s hands while they stepped. Race, gender and culture had no bearing upon who was with whom. An African American boy held a white boy’s hand. An Asian girl clasped her hand into the palm of a freckle faced red haired little girl. Together these two swung their arms and skipped all the way up to the top of the trail.

Walking into the post office just the other day, I saw an elderly couple holding hands behind me. They moved slowly toward the door which I held for them. “Take your time,” I said. The man looked feeble. He kept his eyes on the ground all the way to the door. She paced herself with him, step for step. “Thank you, sir,” said the man who lifted his head as they moved past me.

Later that day, my imagination returned to the elderly couple. I figured they were husband and wife, married 35 years or more. They raised children. Now they have each other. Just by the way his wife took such care helping him walk, I could tell she adored him. They certainly have had their struggles through the years that every longtime marriage incurs, but they have lived true to their vows, “To have and to hold this day forward, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health.”

I imagined the first time this man held hands with this woman was hard for her to describe. Author Sophie Jordan in her novel, “Firelight” captures what might have been her extraordinary experience. “His hand glides down my arm, folds over my hand. His fingers lace with mine, palms kissing. I can feel the fast thud of his heart through this single touch.”

Now in the twilight of their years, this man can still feel the incredible sensation whenever she takes his hand. Poet Maggie Pittman wrote about what he might be feeling. “Her hands are more beautiful than anything can be. Her hands are the reason I am me.”

When little kids hold hands and older couples do the same in public, I wonder why we don’t see much of that with everyone in between. There’s something in this simple form of human touch that speaks security, loyalty, and of course, love. Writer Richelle E. Goodrich said, “A great amount of compassion is communicated in the simple act of taking someone’s hand and holding on tightly. It creates a spiritual vein through which strength, comfort, and hope are transfused to revitalize the soul.”

I can remember as far back to my third-grade class when we held hands through fire drills and gym class games. When our friends were sad about something at recess, we would clasp hands together and change their tears into smiles.

Whenever we would walk together in the dark as kids, we held hands so as not to be afraid. As adults, sometimes we’re frightened to have to walk into the dark alone. Goodrich writes, “I felt sad. I felt cold. I felt hurt. I felt scared and deeply worried ... I felt utterly hopeless. Then you held my hand and I felt better.”

According to a study by UCLA, there is a scientific explanation for why we humans live to touch and be touched. Putting hands together triggers the release of oxytocin in our brain, a “transmitter” that increases feelings of trust, generosity, and compassion and decreases our fear and anxiety.

Further studies indicate that holding hands has significantly declined in America due to our preoccupation with digital media which in turn causes a lack of physical intimacy. This can result in an increase in anger and violence, especially with our younger population. I think that the angry fist that swings at the angry face today has one thing in common with both the giver and the receiver of the punch. Neither one has felt the comforting touch of a warm hand in quite some time.

The beautiful act of holding hands comes full circle in life. A young parent holds a child’s hand while they walk together, reassuring a sense of comfort and love in the little one’s path of travel. The child then grows into adulthood and then one day, the parent lies upon a bed in the final minutes of life. The child holds the hand of the dying parent and returns the feeling of comfort and love received so many years ago. A silent message is sent. “It’s OK. You can go now. I’ll keep on loving you until we can hold our hands together again.”

Imagine what we could do in this world if we formed a human line of holding hands all across the globe with each other. John Lennon had sung, “Imagine all the people livin’ life in peace.”

It may be impractical to have a human chain of holding hands, but we can start the link today. Hold hands and go for a walk. Hold hands and gaze at the sunset. Hold hands when a loved one is crying. No matter what the day brings, holding hands makes life better for all of us.

Rich Strack can be reached at richiesadie11@gmail.com