Hello there, my socially distanced friends. I’m applauding you from afar as you continue to keep to yourselves. Bravo! Keep it up. It’s working.
I hope you’re still stocked with your coffee of choice. Not easy to get foodstuffs nowadays. At least not if you, like me, are ordering for delivery instead of going to a store. I am getting orders from a local farmers/artisans alliance that has been wonderful. Far more reliable than the Instacarts or Amazons of the world. “Buy local” has taken on a whole new meaning for me.
Let’s start with this: I wore a linen dinner napkin to FedEx last week. And those are words I promise you I never thought I’d say. I cobbled together a makeshift face mask from a diagram my sister sent me, using the ugly brown linen napkins that I must have bought (with my eyes closed) many moons ago. They’re going in the Goodwill pile as soon as this lockdown is over. That much is for sure.
Bizarre times. But I’m doing it. Trying to do my part.
And speaking of doing your part, anyone else find they are reevaluating their social set? I know people still trying to date during this pandemic. Or people who run out to the store just because they miss their diet soda. Others who deal with the situation through really crass jokes on social media. And still others who make anyone trying to follow more stringent directives about isolating sound like glorified sissies. I really don’t understand people who can’t just park their sweet asses at home for a month or more. Especially given the consequences for others if they don’t. ‘nough said.
Speaking of parking your sweet ass at home—we all deal with it in our own way, right? I joked with my older sister that we are channeling our dad during this time. My dad kept our house shipshape with military precision. He believed you should be able to bounce a quarter off the sheets and pass a white glove test in every nook and cranny of your home. So, in addition to finding myself wearing a dinner napkin, I’ve also found myself cleaning every tiny crystal on my chandelier. The inside of my refrigerator has never sparkled like it does now. And, shockingly, this less-than-techie gal installed a mesh wifi router. Suddenly, my Ring doorbells work like clockwork and my son finally can turn the basement into a gaming man cave. All the things I usually avoid are staring me in the face—and I’m tackling them with relish.
The frenzy of activity is my way of asserting some control over an uncontrollable, unpredictable situation, of course. I worry about my friend who is still delivering babies, my family member who practices anesthesiology and has begun emergency intubations for coronavirus patients. I know people who have lost a parent—who weren’t able to be by their side and now must grieve alone because there can’t be a funeral service. And as a divorced mom who parents oh-so-differently from my ex, I worry about what would happen to my kiddos if something happened to me. No sense sitting too long with those anxious thoughts, but I’m sure some of you are experiencing the same. A huge virtual hug to you. Try not to cope with it all by scarfing down local homemade cherry pie. I’ll cop to doing that sometimes . . . but let’s not make it a habit. I do not want to be the size of my house when I finally can leave my house.
I welcome any and all book, movie, TV series and documentary suggestions. The 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle I’ve begun is enough to drive a right-brained woman insane. Help me out here, folks.
I want to hear about your life during this strange time. Give me a shout-out and an update, won’t you?
I’ll leave you with this, thoughts from singer/songwriter Paul Williams. I love this perspective. And my tender heart is holding on to how many of us are distancing with love:
“When you go out and see the empty streets, the empty stadiums, the empty train platforms, don’t say to yourself, ‘It looks like the end of the world.’ What you’re seeing is love in action. What you’re seeing, in that negative space, is how much we do care for each other, for our grandparents, for the immuno-compromised brothers and sisters, for people we will never meet.
People will lose jobs over this. Some will lose their businesses. And some will lose their lives. All the more reason to take a moment, when you’re out on your walk, or on your way to the store, or just watching the news, to look into the emptiness and marvel at all of that love.
Let it fill and sustain you. It isn’t the end of the world. It is the most remarkable act of global solidarity we may ever witness.”
Sending love through the ether to you and yours.