Emptying Out a Cluttered Mind After Six Months of Pandemic Lockdowns

Sweatpants and tie-dyes, and shoes with no laces;
Pajamas and long hair and unshaven faces;
The casual lifestyle that pandemics bring
These are a few of my favorite things.
When the bars close, no new TV shows, and I’m feeling sad.
I simply remember it’s time for my wine,
and then I don’t f-e-e-e-l so b-a-a-a-d.

Wow! The things we’ve been through since 2020 went viral. A plague on you, 2020. The year of the Rat: you are well named.

Here is a hodge-podge of 2020 thoughts and happenings:

I had my first Zoom medical appointment. Good news and bad news. The bad – there was no blood pressure taken and no stethoscope used. So when the doctor asked me how I was feeling, he had to take my word for it. The good news is I didn’t have to step on a scale. Since he could only see me from the neck up I looked like any other toned-to-the-bone Olympic athlete. Had it been an office visit I would have had to wear pants with creases and shoes with laces. For the virtual visit I was able to dress down a bit. Had I needed to strip for an examination I was way ahead of the game. He gave me a virtual clean bill of health.

I had my first hair cut in months. Prices have risen. If they charged me by the amount of hair removed I would have really been clipped. I wore a mask during the entire shearing. I was facing the barber’s mirror and kept wondering who that masked man was. It wasn’t the Lone Ranger, but I had such an abundant white mane it could have been Silver.

I was dining outside with a friend at a restaurant. Next to us was a young woman with an older lady who appeared to be her grandmother. The younger woman suddenly approached our table and said, “She’s choking.” I jumped up, wrapped my arms around the older woman and squeezed, doing my best recollection of the Heimlich maneuver. Grandma began coughing, so I knew she was getting air. Fortunately, a couple of Sheriff’s deputies were having lunch at a table nearby and took over. They called 911 and the EMT’s who responded (quickly) took her vitals. She refused to be taken to the hospital. As they were getting ready to leave, Grandma asked me whether I was married or single. I said I was spoken for, but why did she want to know?
“Well, in the short time we’ve known each other,” she said, looking up at me adoringly, “you’ve become my main squeeze.”

Here’s a protective facemask dilemma to consider. You’re in the produce department of a supermarket buying something that goes into one of those horrible plastic bags that dangle from rolls all over the department. An arrow on the bag points to words that read “Open Here,” but opening “here” requires moistening your fingers to get some traction on the recalcitrant bag. You try to lick your fingers but your protective mask is in the way. What to do? You look around furtively, pull down the mask, wet your fingers and open the bag. Hopefully, none of our local volunteer snoops who patrol the beaches are shopping at the same moment. Victory! You’ve filled the bag and avoided being put in stocks.

Here’s another minor pandemic dilemma. You’re happy that many local restaurants are open for outdoor dining and have expanded their ability to serve their clientele by offering curbside dining. The dilemma is the diners filling up the parking lanes. There is no place to park for people driving into town to eat. A solution is proffered here: take note city council members. Put the people in the parking lanes and put the cars in the restaurants. Many establishments are virtually empty, with tables and chairs pushed to the side. Surely many restaurants can accommodate two or three cars. No worries about getting your parking validated.

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg was a woman I admired, although I rarely agreed with her decisions. I understood that our brains were separated by more than six degrees of intelligence. She was a class act. I liked how she honored the tradition of stylish British Jurisprudence by wearing a Jabot, as did one of her predecessors, Sandra Day O’Connor. I would like to see the other female members of the high court honor RBG’s memory by adopting that elegant throwback that lends a bit of chic to the Supremes.

Pasta with red sauce, shrimp fettuccine,
orchestral suites by Toscanini.
The magic of baseball that came every spring,
These are a few of my favorite things.
When the stores close, and my fear grows, and I’m feeling sad.
I simply remember it’s time for my wine
and then I don’t f-e-e-e-l so b-a-a-a-d

Contact Jerry at jerrygervase@yahoo.com