Columnists
Write it Right
Well, wasn’t that a night! As I write this on Sunday morning, many County folks are still sitting in the dark. Just when I was thinking things couldn’t possibly be any worse, or more exciting, we were hit with an epic wind storm. Every once in a while, during the last two years, I’ve wondered who would write the great COVID- 19 pandemic novel. You know the kind, “It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was the windiest of times.” I’m not likely to be the person who writes the epic novel, or a collection of pandemic poetry, but you have to admit, there’s a whole lot of fuel for that fire. Surely, someone will get it done. Remember back in January of 2020 when we all thought it was just an influenza virus and the only people who were concerned were the gatekeepers at the hospitals and clinics? Ah, yes! I remember it well, I was on my early Tumour-in-My-Head Tour of healthcare facilities and was frequently asked all of the “cough, cold and influenza questions” before I was allowed to see a specialist. It never occurred to me there could be something bigger than my problem going on in the world. Not at first. Even in February of 2020, the Country was still on the ropes about what was going on. Ah, the good old days when we didn’t know a sneeze from Shinola™. If I were to write a pandemic novel, I could start with my big, ole tumour story.
And, I’ve said it before, “Here we are. Living the dream.” If living during a pandemic is, indeed, your dream come true, here we are. Every once in a while I wonder how my parents would have managed if they had been alive during this time. Now that would be a novel. My folks were living the dream when they came to Canada during the Depression. As newcomers, they lived their dream very close to the poverty line throughout most of their childhood years. They endured the deprivation, pain and loss of a world war. They lived with the aftermath and horror of that war, then basked in the warmth of the abundance of the postwar years. They raised seven kids in a house my dad and his brothers built. All seven of us Durning Kids managed to stay out of trouble, graduate from high school, colleges, universities and trades schools. Our parents watched, advised and helped us all as we ventured out on our own and began to raise our own families. Our parents were survivors but I can’t imagine, after all they saw and lived, heeding someone who might tell them to sanitize, socially-distance, not travel and wear a face mask whenever they ventured out. My parents, like a lot of folks from their generation, saw a lot in their lives. But somewhere along the line they stopped accepting technological changes and adamantly refused to use their cellphone, respond to messages on their answering machine or hook their computer up to the Internet. Somewhere along the line they just put the brakes on and decided they didn’t need anymore “magic” in their lives. Heck, the television remote was much more than they wanted, most of the time. I truly believe they would have put the brakes on when it came to all of the protocols of living in pandemic times. I can see my parents, especially my mom, thumbing her nose at the need to “mask-up” or distance from her family, neighbours and friends. My dad was harder to read, but let’s just say he wouldn’t have liked any of it. I’d have to include something about my parents in the novel I’m not going to write.
Although I’ve often said to others of my life experiences, “I could write a book about it” I don’t think I actually could. My life is too full of “plot twists” and I’m not sure how many plot twists a reader should endure. It seems my life, if only in Pandemic Times, is full of more twists and turns than the rabbit warren at the old Riverdale Zoo. I did, ever so briefly, discuss the notion of writing a book with my friend Terry. He’s a natural born storyteller, but I’m not sure I have the memory or stamina it would take to reflect, make notes, revise, edit and then get it into print. However, the great storyteller Mark Twain once said, “Writing is easy, all you have to do is cross out the wrong words.” Are swear and cuss words the wrong words? Once I crossed those out there wouldn’t be much left to print.
Whoever you are, if you write it I’ll buy a copy!
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