It’s hard to envision a return to our old lives
A Burlington writer reflects on family, activities and an uncertain future in this pandemic
When you were born as long ago as the 1940s, the start of the new year 2020 had a futuristic sci. fi. feel for me. Little did I anticipate that this speculative fiction would turn into a reality like nothing I had ever experienced.
In March, I would be surveying the scene from my apartment window of Brant, Burlington’s main downtown street, at times devoid of people, with empty parking spots and the usual hum of traffic stilled. So still, that without the dash of early morning commuters, I spied two geese waddling down the street one morning.
One day, a while back now, I was enjoying my favourite activity, indoor short mat carpet bowling with my senior peers, when we received news of the first case of coronavirus in our area. While I followed the overseas news, the spread of the virus seemed remote until it arrived on our doorstep. Within a day, a whole sweep of cancellations were put in place. More restrictions followed with each passing day. Anxiety replaced the ordinary runof-the-mill of daily life. Watching our hard-earned savings for our retirement plummet, knotted our stomachs. The number of people infected and the loss of life was fearful, more so when it moved within our own circle.
Seniors were said to be among the most vulnerable. Instead of us worrying about our offspring, they were concerned about us. Our daughter insisted on buying our groceries and dropping them off at the front door of our building. I wondered if nature had set out to cull the codgers to curb the world’s overpopulation.
A new vocabulary was introduced into our lives: “Zoonosis” — a disease which can be transmitted to humans from animals was thought to be the origin of the virus. We all had to “self-isolate” to keep our “social distance” from our fellow human beings to enable the “flattening of the curve” or even the “planking of the curve” to try to stem the deluge of cases hitting our hospitals and health care workers on the front line. It sounded like a war zone. We are all in this together: a prince, a prime minister and ordinary people fighting a common enemy.
Civilians, expecting the worst, created lineups at grocery stores, the LCBO, for guns in the States and marijuana in Toronto. There was an unfathomable rush on toilet paper. The hour between 7 and 8 a.m. was restricted to seniors. A friend, who was jolted out of bed by her alarm, watched the sunrise while waiting in line before 7 a.m. to buy her groceries. She mentioned that people were nicely “spread out,” although she was tempted to say, “spaced out.”
In our new lives, our children are working from home, our grandchildren are doing their lessons on line and we, the seniors, are trying to stay contained and entertained in our apartment. Where before, my normal busy life left me with limited time, now my abnormal unengaged life endows me with more time than I know how to fill. This simpler life is taking slowing down to the nth degree. I now socialize on electronic devices. Our family of 18 have a new tradition of speaking together on a zoom conference call once a week. We have cleaned every nook and cranny in our apartment, while my hubby has become addicted to doing jigsaw puzzles. My daughter and I are back researching our family origins. My next project is 8,000 digital photographs to be sorted.
Looking for ways to retain our sanity, we rely on humour as one weapon to get us through these troubling times. Our brother-inlaw, not wishing to complain over the disappointment of a cancelled trip to Europe, commented: “Cowboys don’t cry.” My brother sent a photo of himself from another continent donning his own version of a face mask: a Victoria Secret thong. A grandson, looking for a quiet spot to present an assignment online, set up an office in a spare bathroom in the basement.
We mull over the difficult tasks facing our politicians endeavouring to deal with the many aspects of this pandemic. We look for positive signs and hope for the future. Hearing that the air quality has shown signs of improvement underscores what we can accomplish for the next challenge of climate change if we set our minds to it. Family time has taken on a whole new meaning. Acts of kindness give us back faith in humankind. However, it is impossible to attempt to prepare for the return to our old lives. As I stare at my blank calendar, the lyrics of a John Lennon song come to mind: “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”