A Shot in the Arm

Since my father died, I have often thought about what he would think was most odd about today’s world. And that would definitely be the technology.  Specifically, the devices – laptops, tablets, cell phones, and now watches – and their access to the Internet. There was no Internet back then – at least that we knew of. Sometimes I imagine showing him a live stream on my phone or googling some tidbit of information on someone like George “Boomer” Scott (which I just did – born in 1944, he was picking cotton by age nine).

Supporting my theory, I recently came across this statement from a front page of The Boston Globe from 1970 (I won’t bore you with why I was looking at a front page that old):

Now, just when some mortals – feeling oppressed by the flood of information that comes at them from all the media [print, telephone, radio, tv] – are about to cry ‘Enough!’ another major revolution is looming. It comes in the form of prerecorded video cassettes.

Boston Globe, August 14 1970

Oh, my. Print, telephone, radio and tv. And VHS tapes. What would that reporter, and my father, think now?

I also think about what my mother would look on with disbelief if she suddenly made a reappearance. And that would be the masks. If she came back, her first question would be, with an incredulous look on her face,  “How come everyone is wearing masks?”

My father has been dead almost forty years. My mother died shortly before the start of the pandemic. But when I think about who would have a harder time with the changes and be more surprised by them, it would be my mother.

Changes in technology are imaginable even if the specifics are not imagined. If you can pop in a VHS tape, well then why wouldn’t anything be possible in terms of advances in technology?

But everyone in public wearing a mask? Maintaining a wary distance from others or at least having an anxious awareness of lack of distance at all times? That is impossible to imagine – except in a horror film. I’m guessing it would be more terrifying than the advances in technology. More surreal. 

This whole year has been surreal. During the first weekend in February of 2020, when I went to Orlando to see my niece play field hockey, we joked about this Corona virus over lunch at a crowded restaurant indoors. Later in February, David flew down to Florida shortly after attending an international conference in DC. He had a terrible cough that he passed on to me. We wondered could it be Corona? In March, while I was still coughing, Nicole came down with friends from college for spring break. While they were here, they got the message from the administration that they would only be returning to campus to collect their things and clean out their rooms. After these college seniors headed home upset, and a bit stunned, I agonized about when to fly back to Massachusetts. Should I just stay put for two weeks when hopefully it would all be all over? Or should I fly back now on the chance things got worse?

For the remainder of 2020 and up until now, typical events continued to occur, but in atypical ways. A graduation, a memorial, a wedding shower, a wedding, Thanksgiving, Christmas, a baby shower, and a birth were celebrated outside the norm. Things were done differently than they had ever been done before. 

We all got used to a new routine as the pandemic went on and on and on. The pandemic itself has ranged from annoying to tragic. But one benefit – at least for us – is that the pace of life got a lot slower. I liked that. In the early evenings (or late afternoons), Nicole and I would have a glass of wine, and one of us would say “Another day done.” And the other would follow up with “And another day tomorrow.” Each night, the three of us – a 23 year old sitting on the couch with her middle aged parents – would watch an episode of Queer Eye Makeover together and quietly wonder what Tan would make of our daily pandemic attire. 

Now our routine includes hunting for vaccine appointments. I have become familiar with eligibility rules across four states. 

Meagan and Chris in New Jersey were the first in our immediate family to get fully vaccinated. That brought me a sense of relief, not just for them, but for the baby. Studies have shown that a baby may get COVID immunities in utero and through breast milk from a vaccinated mother. 

Heather was the next to sign up in California. She got her first vaccine on Phil’s birthday. She actually had COVID back in December. As did her her roommate of 10 years, Alexandra, who asked me to give her a shout out in this post and use her legal name. She just FaceTimed me to ask if she should get the Johnson & Johnson. I yelled “YES!”

Dave was in a tizzy for quite a while trying to book an appointment in Massachusetts. Nicole and I would tell him to relax because his distress wasn’t doing any of us any good, but to no avail. I managed to find him something in Florida. Then I booked my own about a week later. We will be getting our second vaccines on the same day. He is ticked off because despite all the worrying and agonizing he has done, I will be fully vaccinated a few hours before he is. 

Nicole will soon be eligible in Massachusetts, and  I am itching to get on my computer to help her find an appointment.

With each shot in the arm, we get a step closer. A step closer to the release of a stress that has been with us over a year. A step closer to letting ourselves relax. A step closer to some sense of normalcy. A step closer to a day when my father would be more surprised by the changes in the world than my mother would be. 

Though, come to think of it, my mother did insist on keeping the VCR at the lake so she could watch her Jane Fonda tape.