Days of Pestilence
So, if things had gone the way they were “supposed” to go, my wife and I would, on this day and just about this hour, be boarding our cruise ship in sunny Florida and soon would be sailing on a southerly course toward the exotic Caribbean. We would have just unpacked our (too full!) suitcases into our immaculate stateroom and have enjoyed our first drink (with the obligatory fruit and umbrella adornments) and our first meal aboard. We would have had plenty of time to get together with our cruising companions and had a great gab fest. We would have probably then wandered around the ship, impatiently waiting for the “sail away” festivities and savoring the utter joy of watching the land slide away and the blue ocean to take its place.
But, of course, that didn’t happen.
What did happen was this damn corona-virus. And poof… just like that, all those things we were supposed to do just… went away. It’s not like the last time I canceled a cruise. That was four years ago, I’d just suffered a heart attack and was just too weak to attempt a “week in the sun.” But in that case the boat DID sail – just without us.
This time our boat did NOT sail. Most of the cruise ships of all the fleets are empty, sitting at docks or sitting out on the water, empty except for the crews. They’re keeping busy cleaning and refurbishing the ships, but their reason for existence has become moot. Those ships have become dangerous ground for the passengers (and crew). As has been said recently, they are now floating Petri dishes. The virus absolutely LOVES those places where people congregate and are close to one another. The news of the past several weeks show that.
So instead of feeling a piña colada sliding down my throat and the gentle rocking of a ship at sea, my wife and I now sit and talk about what might have been. And remind ourselves that those things we love have not gone away forever. We look forward to sailing again. We look forward to enjoying the company of our sailing companions and we contemplate the new adventure that is waiting for us sometime out there in the future.
And that leads us to the question – just exactly how far in the future will that happy day be? When will it again become safe to travel, both on the airlines and the cruise ships? How long will we need to sit at home, watch the increasingly dire reporting on the television news shows and count the days until that ephemeral time arrives when we can again push the GO button.
How long?
I hear estimates of that period of time. Pundits and politicians say weeks or possibly months. This has to happen first and that has to occur they say. The virus has to “pass its peak” and/or this or that medicine/vaccine has to be developed and tested. Year-to-a-year-and-a-half for that last one.
Ughhh…
Now understand that I have never been much of a gad-about. I’m usually pretty content to sit at home and do stuff around the house. I usually let my wife do the shopping and do our family gad abouting. But now, sitting at home because I’m supposed to; hell, it seems like a weird kind of prison sentence. But then I remember: There are invisible bugs outside that door that would like nothing less than attacking me and bringing me down. Maybe my neighbor has it. Maybe the postman. Perhaps one of the guys from my lodge. And I could “get it” just by a handshake, an inadvertent cough, sneeze droplets lingering on a stair rail or in a hundred other ways.
Yipes!
It’s creepy as all hell. Because the outside looks absolutely normal! Muddy and a bit rainy with occasional peeks of glorious sunshine. Totally normal for this time of year and for this place. Except for the store closures, the school closures, the paucity of traffic and the way folks are beginning to go out of their way to avoid contact. Except for the new normal of fist or elbow bumps for greetings, when greetings are absolutely necessary, for the quick dash to the store or carry-out restaurant for food – keeping your distance from your fellows here and there. Except for the long-lasting boredom of staying at home interspersed with the ever-present newscasters with their announcements of doom and destruction. And of course, of politics.
So what to do, what to do, what to do?
I guess the word to live by in these modern days of pestilence and worry is hunker. As in hunker down. Staying socially isolated as much as possible and “riding out the storm”. Keeping calm and collected. Keeping your mind and body as active as possible. And keeping the faith. This too shall pass. After an as yet undetermined period of time has passed we’ll be able to look back and say, “remember when…?” We’ll all smile, but inside a little shudder will occur.
Our sadly cancelled cruise WILL happen… down the road… after a period of time… when things have settled down… when this bug is dead. And we WILL enjoy it, especially because to do so we had to wait and be patient for the stars to align, the winds to be at our backs and for the pestilence to be vanquished.
I can smell the ocean spray now!
(No, sorry, that was hand sanitizer I was smelling.)
See you on the other side…
StuffGood Lord do I have a lot of stuff! And so does my wife. Almost everywhere I look there is… stuff. Older stuff, newer stuff, even multiples of the same stuff. On every floor of our house, in every room there is stuff. Stuff I need every day, stuff I use every once in a while and stuff that… well, stuff I haven’t touched in decades. Yes, decades. Things in the back of closets, stuff that’s fallen behind furniture, stuff that’s been in drawers for ages and ages. Stuff hiding behind and under other stuff. Stuff hanging on the walls, stuff on racks and shelves and hooks. Stuff on the floor covering other stuff on the floor. Important stuff in lock-boxes and not-so-important stuff scattered hither and yon. Garage stuff in the… you guessed it, the garage! Stuff in this place for my wife, stuff in that place for my son, stuff in that box and on those hooks for my dog.
Stuff.
So why am I, today, blithering on and on about stuff?
Well, every now and then my wife and I go through our clothes – the ones hanging in closets, the ones in drawers and under the bed in boxes, and “thin the herd” so to speak. We discard or donate clothes that we don’t wear any more, that we decided were too ugly to put on, ones that don’t fit anymore (sadly the most likely reason) or, more rarely, actually ones we’ve worn out. A lot of times it’s just so we have room for more stuff!
Some of the really old stuff is here just as keepsakes. An old Air Force uniform of mine. My wife’s wedding dress. A hunting coat I’m keeping for the next time I go hunting. (I haven’t hunted in a very long time.) Even a beautiful lace tablecloth I bought as a gift for my mom and dad 50 years ago. I don’t think it’s even been used. And why do I have it now??? It probably came to me with a bunch of other stuff I got after my parents passed away and their stuff was being divided.
That’s what happens to a lot of old stuff I guess.
So I’m going through a chest of drawers the other week and I come across a bunch – several dozen at least – of gray socks. Mid-calf-length gray socks. Nice socks. Now I have switched over a few years ago to a shorter sock – ankle-length or thereabouts – and I don’t wear the longer ones any more. And there they sit in the drawer, neatly balled up (that’s how I store my socks) and ready to be slipped on a pair of cold feet. A lot of them are new or at least new-ish. Sooner or later I suppose I’ll have to check around and see if anyplace will take them. A lot of donation places have rules about what you can and cannot donate. Socks might be a no-no. But I just don’t want to toss them. And I could probably use the space they’re taking up for more stuff.
Of course.
My mind then centers on my attic. Oh boy is there a LOT more stuff up there! Probably things I could sell on eBay. (Do people still use eBay?) Boxes of old papers that could probably be shredded. Boxes with boxes inside of other boxes, a matryoshka in cardboard. A whole bunch of old books and CD’s, many dozens, that I used to sell online. These are the ones that didn’t sell and they need to go bye-bye. Old school stuff from my wife’s college days and old military documents from my days in uniform. Many, many old photographs. We’ll be keeping most of those. Old electronics someone might want. Christmas boxes up the ying-yang. I try to use some of them during the holidays to wrap gifts in, but my lovely wife likes to buy new ones for her gift wrapping. So, the sum total of Christmas boxes goes up and up. Along with shoeboxes and jewelry boxes and watch boxes and other boxes we get when we order stuff from Amazon and their ilk. They’re GOOD boxes! Just hate to pitch ‘em. Might need one JUST THAT SIZE one day down the road.
Or not…
Lots of work facing us up there.
And of course there’s the basement. Exercise equipment and weights that could go adios tomorrow. And in the workshop, lots and lots of stuff. The mantra down there is “you just never know when you might need a _______”. I’m not like several friends I have who have WAY more stuff in their basements than I do, but there IS quite a bit of stuff here. And, to be honest, I probably don’t know what 20% of the stuff down there IS, let alone what it DOES.
I had a good friend many years ago tell me that I was “living the American dream.” He had very little at the time and, when he observed the stuff that my wife and I had it seemed that we had “made it.” To him at least. Seems funny to remember that now, looking back. My little family, at least at that time, was probably the epitome of lower-to-middle middle class. We had our share of stuff, decent cars, a decent place to live and OK clothes to wear. We never missed a meal and were probably, essentially, doing all right. But I’m sure my richer friends would have seen something very different, peering into my world, than my poorer friend did.
And most of that was just because of stuff. More stuff, shinier stuff, newer stuff, stuff that was needed and stuff that we just wanted.
Just stuff.
So I guess it’s time to go back to work, isn’t it? To peer in all the dark corners and decide about the stuff we still have left. Keep it? Pitch it? Hide it? Save it for another day?
Oh, and yes… let’s not forget. Do you need any gray socks, mid-calf length? New to almost new? They’re yours for the asking!
