Columnists
All of the curves
It’s January the somethingteenth or another, 2021. Once again, the streets of the County are quiet or, at least, quieter. A lot quieter. I remember, back in the good old days of March 2020, walking around Picton and thinking I’d never seen anything like this before, and here we are. Where did all of the County Cadillacs go? Where are all of the Rolls-can-hardlys? I’ve only been here for forty-nine years; there could have been a time in the past when the roadways were this quiet, hushed by fear and threat of illness. Perhaps, in a time before our arrival in the County. And here we are. We’re sheltering in place. We’re doing what we can for the cause. We’re staying home, kids. Really, really staying home this time. We aren’t hanging around the coffee shops on Main Street. We aren’t meeting up for lunch. We aren’t heading to the library to paw through the Mystery Section for “whodunits” or catching up on the periodicals at one of the big tables. We’re at home, widening our behinds and flattening the curve.
For some of us, staying home isn’t physically difficult to do. We do get out to grocery shop. We can pick up prescriptions. We believe it might be okay to exercise out-ofdoors, but we’ve all heard mixed messages on this point. Right now, mostly, we’re just staying home. We read. We wander from room to room. We day drink. We fiddle with jigsaw puzzles. We rearrange furniture and clean closets. We post crap on social media. We whine about crap posted on social media. We disturb the ca-ca on social media. We watch a lot of television. By “we” I mean LOML and I. Staying home isn’t too difficult for us. We aren’t what you’d call social butterflies. If, in the days of yore, there happened to be a party or get-together to avoid, we did our best to avoid the gathering. Personally, I believe LOML is more outgoing than I am. He does brag about being the least sociable person in the County, or at least in our family, but our children know that’s not true. He misses chatting with George at the Beacon. He misses going to the bookstore to pick up his magazines and to catch up with Becky. He misses getting his hair cut. I also know for a fact he misses the County Ukulele Band get-togethers. It’s not only a big music sharing thing, for him, but there’s a chance to chat with folks who are likeminded about ukuleles and other stringed instruments. So, now a version of the group meets online via Zoom. On Friday every week, and every other Wednesday, the group tunes into their Zoom time slot and away they go. They catch up, they laugh, they sing, they talk, they encourage each other and they make music. Zoom has been a blessing for the group, with one drawback. Some of the original band members live in the rural corners of the County and it’s not easy to join the group if your Internet connection is slow, or spotty. Zoom is only part of the answer for their group. All of them look forward to the day they can “play together”, in the same space and not be hampered by masks, separated by distance and be in fear of COVID-19 transmission.
Me? Well, I’m looking forward to actually passing someone—on the sidewalk. You know what I mean, right? Being on the same sidewalk, approaching another pedestrian and one of us doesn’t have to jump out into the street or onto someone’s front lawn to avoid the other person. I’m looking forward to the day I can go to the grocery store and not get all pissy-pants because someone’s mask doesn’t cover their nose, or because someone isn’t following the arrows, or I can actually recognize “someone” because I can see their face—mask-free. I’m looking forward to eating in a restaurant. You know what I mean, right? I’m looking forward to eating food I didn’t prepare, delivered from a kitchen I didn’t have to stock or clean, eating at a table I didn’t have to set, and on dishes I don’t have to clear, wash and put away when I’m finished. That kind of eating-food-experience. I miss that. Yeah, we have had a few takeout meals in the last 10 months, with thanks to those entrepreneurs. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great to have that option, but there’s always a mess to clean up afterwards. I look forward going to those restaurants, to table service, taking time to decide if I want dessert and not having to bake the dessert myself.
I do have to say, I’m impressed all of us did learn something from the very first lockdown, way back in the olden days. We learned that we didn’t have to hoard BUMPF, or other paper products. Many of us did spend hours on YouTube and Allrecipes.com learning how to make sourdough bread and when we blew up the still, we moved on to yeast bread and emptied the baking shelves of the local grocery stores. At least half of us took a crack at making PPEs out of just about anything that resembled cotton. Some folks learned a language. Some learned to play an instrument. I have questions about this new lockdown, and I haven’t even got answers to my questions from the first go round. Like, “What the H E double layers of softness was hoarding toilet paper all about? Did we really think the most important thing to do, in the face of a pandemic, was to have eight hundred rolls of toilet paper in the basement, next to the hundred pound bags of flour and pails of yeast?
Now if we could just lay off the freshly baked bread and flatten our curves. Yeah, that’s the ticket.
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