Sat, May 23, 2020
Read in 4 minutes
From the United States of America
I was cleaning my car the other day. I drove it into the city the week before to visit my girlfriend. It had been two months since I’d seen her. We had our long-distance relationship all figured out before the pandemic. Since she works in a vulnerable occupation – healthcare worker at a hospital – and because people were/are advised to social distance, 150 miles away is where I stayed. Before I visited her last week, I visited my parents. They’re 65 or so and healthy for their age; though my father’s father passed away with pneumonia and my father usually doesn’t make it through the winter without a long respiratory illness. Someone asked me a year ago how I thought I’d die (talk about a morbid conversation). I think they were expecting an exciting response. I said probably some sort of respiratory illness.
I was cleaning my car because I left it under a tree in the city. Those city birds will make ya’ pay a toll whether you like it or not. Between the bird shit and the seasonal pollen, my car was in a pretty shameful state. The houses here are duplexes and are lined one by one. I’m in a coastal town an hour from the city. I was scrubbing the rims when I noticed a guy working on my neighbor’s air conditioning unit. I said, “you’re gonna’ be a busy man this summer… that’s the right line of business to be in… residential AC.. people working from homes just blastin’ it” He said, “it’s already starting to pick up.” I adjourned the quick conversation with a “damn.” A few minutes went by and I said, “I hope it starts to rain soon… I’ll get a free rinse.” He laughed. Indeed it began to rain. I said, “God has to work on his priorities.” Then I whispered to myself (or to God), “I was only kidding, I’m just keeping you in the conversation.”
From the garage, an acoustic guitar hung from a hook installed into the ceiling (usually a bike hung from the hook). I’m refinishing a guitar. The task that preceded the car wash was the application of a second coat of polyurethane. My neighbor walked into the garage with his new dog, Tito. We talked and Tito rummaged around. He found a piece of sandpaper I had lost. This dog’s gonna’ be a good boy. My neighbor stood five feet away… or six feet; whatever it is. I would have shaken his hand – I respect him and a handshake is how I would have liked to start the reunion. This is my parent’s second home (primary home is a few hours inland; I had a fortunate upbringing) and I hadn’t seen him since the end of last summer.
He’s a macho, blue-collar conservative guy… I’m more liberal and I do not endorse the current President during political chit-chat. He gave me his take on the situation – a timely take as it is Memorial Day weekend. Memorial Day is a federal holiday in the United States where military personnel that died in service are honored. He referenced ancestor’s fighting for our freedom in the various wars in which our country has been involved. They took a risk… if they weighed the risk of dying, and did not fight for the cause of freedom and a quasi-entrepreneurial pursuit of happiness, then where would we be? Should we not take risks today that may lead to illness or death? I said, “that’s an interesting opinion.”
I’m a coward, I suppose. Because here I am writing about the encounter, and at the time I didn’t speak my mind… I guess I wanted to preserve neighborly cordiality. I don’t think that it’s a good comparison though… for one; I think the risky action is being precautionary and sacrificing the usual social experience of the weekend. Maybe the pay-off will be continued dissipation of the virus. The sure cost will be moping around indoors.
Additionally, this may be referred to as a war… but it’s not a conflict between humans. If we’re the soldiers in this war, the enemy is on an invisible, empirical quest to cover the planet. We’re in the land of the brave… healthcare workers are the brave ones… hopefully they’re compensated for their bravery. For us white and blue collar workers, is this a situation where bravery helps? I think we need to be smart about this whole thing… not tough.
Thunder woke me up this morning – the Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend. Before I opened my eyes, I saw flashes of light – lightning crashing into the open ocean where my window faced. If it was nice people would be preparing for the beach, shopping on the boardwalk, riding their bicycles down the avenues… perhaps the rain is divine intervention. Or maybe, it’s just the usual cycle of water.