We've moved into the dog days of summer. In Portland that means that you can wash your car and have it last for a few weeks. There is no rain in the immediate future, so we get to enjoy the shine for a bit.
But nothing this year is predictable. We have very little to look forward to. Things have disappeared. They have been canceled. People are longing for that which they resisted last year. This how it is. When those of us who survive tell the younger generation all the "how it was" tales, what will we say?
We will talk about the time we couldn't go to restaurants, but some restaurants came to us by delivery. The great mask dilemma will no doubt be a big topic. Even then there will be no adequate response to the reasoning some folks used to resist wearing a mask.
The politicization of almost everything will surely find its way to the discussion. In that category will come the mother of all denial in describing how some people continued to believe the pandemic was a hoax. With no evidence and the fear stoked by paranoia bubbling in their brains, they sallied forth giving credence to the ridiculous. Contraries find a way to move forward despite logic.
I'll tell the story of my long walks. Couldn't go to the gym, so I walked. Often I'd pass people with no mask. I'd smile at kind faces even though they could only see my eyes. We learned to read eyes.
A few times I rose early and went fishing on my favorite nearby lake. There, for a few hours, it was possible to forget. Social distancing is the rule when fly fishing and there was often the profound thought that it was something you could always do. Keep a mask handy, but slowly traversing a lake, wind blowing, fresh air, slight mist, catching, and releasing rainbow trout can all be done without covering up. Catch relief was more like it.
We had no baseball. No live competition. For the night owls, there was baseball from Korea. For everyone else, there were series games from the past and all manner of sports contests where you could Google who won if you forgot or simply wanted to turn in before the finish. Only horse racing remained live. No crowd in attendance. Jockeys looked more like banditos on horseback, but the horses ran and the Triple Crown happened albeit out of order.
We avoided the grocery store until necessary. Masks required, grocery carts sanitized, some commodities in limited supply, RULES.
Birthdays took a hit. Hard to buy presents unless you go online. No parties. No groups of over 5 people. 10 is a risk. Travel is a bigger risk. No flying, car travel only. What about trains or hotels? Lots of uncertainty.
I miss my weekly music group and the progress I made at my gym. Those are on hold until I don't know.
And the constant thought of the burning question: Is this the new normal?
But nothing this year is predictable. We have very little to look forward to. Things have disappeared. They have been canceled. People are longing for that which they resisted last year. This how it is. When those of us who survive tell the younger generation all the "how it was" tales, what will we say?
We will talk about the time we couldn't go to restaurants, but some restaurants came to us by delivery. The great mask dilemma will no doubt be a big topic. Even then there will be no adequate response to the reasoning some folks used to resist wearing a mask.
The politicization of almost everything will surely find its way to the discussion. In that category will come the mother of all denial in describing how some people continued to believe the pandemic was a hoax. With no evidence and the fear stoked by paranoia bubbling in their brains, they sallied forth giving credence to the ridiculous. Contraries find a way to move forward despite logic.
I'll tell the story of my long walks. Couldn't go to the gym, so I walked. Often I'd pass people with no mask. I'd smile at kind faces even though they could only see my eyes. We learned to read eyes.
A few times I rose early and went fishing on my favorite nearby lake. There, for a few hours, it was possible to forget. Social distancing is the rule when fly fishing and there was often the profound thought that it was something you could always do. Keep a mask handy, but slowly traversing a lake, wind blowing, fresh air, slight mist, catching, and releasing rainbow trout can all be done without covering up. Catch relief was more like it.
We had no baseball. No live competition. For the night owls, there was baseball from Korea. For everyone else, there were series games from the past and all manner of sports contests where you could Google who won if you forgot or simply wanted to turn in before the finish. Only horse racing remained live. No crowd in attendance. Jockeys looked more like banditos on horseback, but the horses ran and the Triple Crown happened albeit out of order.
We avoided the grocery store until necessary. Masks required, grocery carts sanitized, some commodities in limited supply, RULES.
Birthdays took a hit. Hard to buy presents unless you go online. No parties. No groups of over 5 people. 10 is a risk. Travel is a bigger risk. No flying, car travel only. What about trains or hotels? Lots of uncertainty.
I miss my weekly music group and the progress I made at my gym. Those are on hold until I don't know.
And the constant thought of the burning question: Is this the new normal?
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