World gets weird; family turns normal
Grandma Wise taught Nurse Vivian how to handle influenza. Whenever Bernice, Vivian, Charles, Jimmy, Georgie or Janey took sick, she’d put that child in the middle of the family bed. In this way, they all had the measles or the mumps together. Needless to say, Brother X, Brother Double X and I had the same treatment. A personal crisis was a family crisis.
But nowadays it’s all about social distance. We peace officers have been bumping elbows for years, but it’s impossible to give a hug from a distance. Been told by the boys that the newest thing is tapping shoes, and I wonder if this is the new world order. Have we seen the end of the handshake?
I’m Irish, so I’ve got a smaller social distance as it is.
Last week, I commented that deputies don’t get to call in sick for Armageddon. Deputies, police officers, firefighters, emergency medical technicians — for all of us the world has been set on screech, setting up emergency protocols and trying to look calm as we do.
Cops love a good crisis. It’s what we train for. When the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse come galloping down Market Street, we’re gonna pull them over and give them a citation. “Mr. Famine, did you know you’re missing a taillight?”
It’s not the pandemic we like but the camaraderie. Gallows humor. We’re working long days, but one of the guys stopped by Robert’s for the meat, so that on St. Patrick’s Day we had our corned beef and cabbage.
COVID19 isn’t one of those crises with dramatic saves and people running into burning towers. Won’t be any medals. Instead, men and women demonstrate their bravery by walking into hospitals and taking care of the sick.
So if you see a person with a badge or a stethoscope, thank them for showing up.
While my world has sped up, my husband Brian’s has slowed down. He’s been laid off from all seven of his dance/teaching gigs. Worse, he’s sheltering in place with two teenagers.
Brian’s been fighting the Battle of Safeway, standing in line for an hour so that we don’t run out of boxed wine. Call any shortage during the plague, and people buy it up: tissue, hand sanitizer, RiceaRoni. I went down to Cordova Market and there was a run on The Chronicle, sold out every last copy. I asked Sohel whether people were desperate to read the column, and he shrugged, “Maybe they’ve run out of toilet paper.”
The schools sent my sons Zane and Aidan home for the duration. That’s right. Zane’s home, one of the nicer things about this disaster.
The more abnormal the situation gets, the more normal our family seems. I’ve been coming to the Bedlam Blue Bungalow after 14hour days, and Brian’s had dinner ready, just like Donna Reed (but without the pearls). Yes, you know it’s Armageddon because Brian’s cooking, but he’s been grilling cheese sandwiches with tomato soup or roasting vegetables and every meal has been splendid.
But without all the school and rehab and dancing, there’s been the space in the outer, outer, outer, outer Excelsior for the four of us to sit down to the dining room table, hold hands, say grace and toast “the best boys in the world.”
If you’re asking about the grilled cheese, it’s because I skipped the Lent column. I have kept my New Year’s resolution thus far, which is not to make any New Year’s resolutions, but when it came to Ash Wednesday, with everything going on I went with my default of no meat. You know the drill: smaller carbon footprint, balancing out the chi, hanging with the enlightened 6%. Did you know that on average vegetarians outlive their carnivore counterparts by about six years?
Back to Brian. When he was shopping for Ragnarok, he picked up every pound of ground turkey he could find, but no tofu. This being a spiritual crisis, and with all the churches closed, we turned to Sister Lil, who advised, “If the priests can’t say Mass, they can’t hand out penances either. So here’s a plenary indulgence for white meat.” Catholicus Interruptus.
Just like breaking Lent, we are also breaking the social distance taboo. When I walk in the door of the Bedlam Blue Bungalow and announce, “Daddy’s home,” both boys pop up from their iPads and give me a super hug because Nurse Vivian was right: A world crisis is a family crisis. None of us wants to live in a world without hugs.