Tag Archives: coronavirus

A Light at the End of the COVID Tunnel

Facebook has a feature called Memories that shows you previous pictures and posts from your own timeline. Every morning when I log on, Facebook shows me posts from a year ago, two years ago, five years ago, and in some cases, ten years ago. I’m constantly reminded of parties and friends and holidays, but the posts from one year ago this month are most curious.

The first few posts are trivial. Innocent. There are pictures of food and thoughts about video games. In the second half of the month, the posts begin to change. Mostly they’re reactions to the arrival and spread of COVID-19. Each post contains an undertone of wonder and disbelief, bordering on incredulity. People are going to start wearing masks in public? Restaurants are going to close? The NBA is going to pause their season? In my first blog post about coronavirus, posted on March 20, 2020, I mentioned that I was waiting for a pause in the news cycle in order to write something, but that pause never came.

I think hard times are easier to get through when you know good times lie ahead, but month after month I (and millions of others) waited for the good times, wondering when (and sometimes if) they would arrive. While we waited, we watched the end of Mason’s senior year of high school crumble. We cancelled vacations. The kids began attending school virtually. Susan and I began working virtually.

For me, the light at the end of the tunnel came in our first vaccination shot, which we received two weeks ago. In February, Oklahoma opened up shots to, among other groups, overweight people. Not one to turn down an opportunity (or apparently dessert) I jumped at the chance.

For the record, I feel no guilt about getting the shot when we did. More than one person on social media has made passive-aggressive comments toward me, hinting that overweight people should not be receiving vaccines before anyone else. It’s impossible to track what rules which states and cities are following. We signed up like everyone else, hit refresh on our browsers a hundred times like everyone else, and got our shots when they became available. Hate the game, not the player.

I’ve also had several people (both friends and acquaintances) explain to me why they are not getting the vaccine. It’s a personal choice. I no longer have it in me to be the mask police, and I’m not about to start being the vaccine police. All I can say is, I see the vaccine as the path to normalcy. I want to start eating out again. I want to go on vacation again. I want to go to garage sales again. I don’t want to worry about contracting a disease every time I hear someone cough behind me.

I hope that when I log on to Facebook in 2022, my posts from 2021 will be the opposite of 2020’s. I hope the memories start with posts about boredom and vaccines and end with pictures of food taken inside the restaurants that survived.

CoronaEaster

I don’t usually associate sports with Easter, although the void left by their absence over the past several weeks has been impossible to ignore. Sunday, ESPN aired a HORSE tournament where NBA players, each in his own city, played HORSE on his own court. This was only slightly less embarrassing than the streaming video game tournaments ESPN has been airing, in which professional athletes play video games against one another. ESPN, along with other channels, have resorted to showing games from the past. Over the weekend I saw game seven from the 2016 NBA finals, followed by football bowl game from ten years ago. Typically this time of year I would be gearing up for the NBA finals to begin. Instead, we watched a rerun of the 2008 National Spelling Bee.

Every year on Easter, both of our families come over for Easter lunch. After lunch, the big kids hide Easter eggs for the little kids to find.

This year, we were afraid. We were afraid someone might get us sick. We were afraid we might get one of our parents sick. We were afraid to celebrate Easter the same way we’ve celebrated it for the past twenty-five years, since we got married.

Instead, Susan baked an entire meal (ham, potato salad, deviled eggs, beans, rolls, carrots, cupcakes, and that weird, fluffy stuff she calls salad that’s made out of Cool Whip), made plates, and delivered them around town. We sent two meals-worth to my dad, two plates to Susan’s mom’s house, and some cupcakes over to to my mom’s. While at my mom’s, we sat six-feet-apart outside and talked while Mason and Morgan played basketball in the driveway.

These are not the sports I wanted. This is not the Easter Susan wanted. We’re doing the best we can with the information we have.

The ham was delicious, and so was that weird Cool Whip salad stuff.