It’s almost Halloween. We’ve been sprucing things up around here, pulling skeletons out of closets. Trenches that appeared in our yard for utility hook-ups to the casita have left ghostly outlines and dangerous culverts. Don’t get me wrong, we’re not blowing up ginormous black cats to cover the landscape, but we are planning to level the yard and lay new bluestone paths through the garden gate to the patio, and beyond. And baby pictures of the Bug in a princess costume keep popping up on my iPad, so I’ve succumbed to nostalgia.
Lately, while listening to a podcast about the Covid pandemic, I’ve been thinking about how much has changed since 2020. How that interval of time changed us all, everyone in the world. It was a Great Pause, and I’m not sure we’ve actually studied the sociological implications. A researcher said that children around the Grands’ ages were most affected, the early elementary school students who were deprived of classrooms and classmates. Another person said that puppies born during the pandemic were completely untrainable!
The live podcast was streaming from the UK, and a man said he looked inward and decided to pursue a career in acting. He had been active in AIDS circles and dealing with homelessness at about that same time Brexit became a thing; and I thought oh yeah, we had a tornado right after lockdown, and then Ada died. There was loss… upon loss… upon loss. It was a universal insult to our collective psyche.
And then this activist turned actor said, “I was looking at my sell-by date.”
He was comparing us to produce! But that hit home. I’m fast approaching eighty. It’s coming on two years since the Big Fall. Last week I had a dermatologist dig some squamous cell carcinoma out of my forehead, and next week Bob is getting his first cataract done! I don’t need a costume for Halloween this year, the big scar on my head makes me look like the Bride of Frankenstein!
Lettuce is still safe to eat after its sell-by date, it just might be a little wilted. It will no longer grace the table of a Michelin starred restaurant, but you could find the salad at a food pantry. The podcaster was making his case for a chance to Pivot during the pandemic – after Covid, we had two choices, to change, or become cynical. Indeed, the Bride left her practice, and started something new, Bluebird MD.
Covid became a dividing line – between who actually believed in facts and who believed in alternative facts. The conspiracy theorists were free to roam online and IRL. A neighbor insisted our Grands didn’t need to wear masks. A favorite bagel shop felt the same way about masking up for a schmear. Everybody started doing their own research. Friends were lost, alliances changed, and family members splintered. The Bride and the Groom had to shower in their garage apartment before kissing their children goodnight.
Do you remember? It wasn’t so long ago. Our Pumpkin is about to turn twelve. He’s still playing guitar in his band Snakebite, and he fell in love with mountain biking this year… which seems almost impossible in a city, but why not? We all have a sell-by date on our backs. And the Grim Reaper inflates every night in the yard across the street. Can you see my scar? It’s right at the hairline.
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