I hesitated before sitting down to write my annual 'Wacky' - seeing that last year I opted to write about the
new year instead - for obvious reasons: Covid cases are soaring statewide, nationwide and globally. But, I realized soon after my mother died in August, 2018, that humor - specifically "Two and a Half Men" and Graham Norton - would help pull me through. We are wading through communal grief, such that most of us cannot even begin to articulate its depths.
However, in grief grows a greater understanding of life's precious gifts. For me, that has meant long walks here in Branford, Connecticut, revelling in the change of seasons. From the spring spurts of life in the guise of the crocus to summer's sweltering gasp, the autumnal song of the crimson and amber leaves scattered about to winter's frightening white march. Here were some of the WW highlights of 2021:
By
January 28, Connecticut had rolled out at least one dose of a Covid vaccine to 8.8 percent of the population, and 1.7 percent had received two doses; nearly six percent of Hawaiians had received at least one dose and about one and a half percent of them had received two doses by this date. Unfortunately, many of us struggled to book appointments and January was still a time of frightening,
mask-wearing, antiseptic-spraying, six-feet-from-our-neighbor behavior. That is, for the 60 percent of our nation who seem to be following the rules and believe in, oh, what was it called again...SCIENCE.
February. Ahh,
February. Time of love and romance and hand-holding and ...wait. That is if you had already found your significant other or had been forced into quarantine with the person who was supposed to be a one-night date (this is all anecdotal, I can only imagine). The rest of us flirted with dating sites and then - at least someone on the other end of this keyboard did - flit away quickly when responses started barrelling in. My decidedly unscientific analysis is that men care much more about mating at the risk of losing their life than do women. My dream man? A nerd who never goes out. Possibly a writer/professor type with no children/grandchildren/friends he has to see. He has one vaccinated small white dog who gets along with the Blue Persian I plan to purchase in 2022.
March was a triumph for me in that a story I had been chasing for a few months, a Q and A with the renowned dame, the
Dr. Jane Goodall, came to fruitition and was
published by the BBC. Interviewing her on Zoom from my small room was delightful, all the more so because, due to nerves, my screen was not clearly showing my face. She politely asked if I could move it up so she could see me. Her message of hope, obviously timed to market her new
Hopecast podcast, resonated with me. Like many of you, pandemics ain't exactly my thang. Hearing about how we humans have the capacity for hope and how it has been an evolutionary tool has stayed with me all these months, and no doubt, will take me into 2022.
Speaking of hope, in
April I got my first jab! Thank you Pfizer, thank you science, thank you to the nice woman at Walgreen's in New Haven. Remember that glorious feeling of hope we all had upon getting our shots? I could not wait to return for the second, and became a little testy fighting to come in at exactly three weeks instead of four. Survival of the noisiest, I guess, because I got it done in mid-
May.
June is for weddings, and it seemed that this year we all heard one too many stories of couples who overcame great odds, got married on balconies in New York or Milan with only the housekeeper or harried best friend-cum-man in attendance. I wonder how many of these romantics secretly trilled after alleviating the mess of a
traditional wedding - you know, the one where we have to meet our in-laws' second cousins once removed and tell our best friend she's had one too many Mumms.
In
July, President Biden declared the nation free of Covid, or did I just imagine that? In any event, the celebration came as we were dealing with the wave of Delta criss-crossing the States. Schools and businesses were doing remote learning and working. It felt odd watching he, along with Jill, their daughter and some other woman spy fireworks from a balcony, but I could not blame him. How many times did Trump tell us he was the best? Daily at least 57 times. I appreciated the victory lap, even though I knew it was premature.
In
August, my birthday month, I celebrated by talking to my endocrinologist on Telehealth about my thryoid. Celebrated because the images from the previous month had shown I was safe from cancer, at least for now. I have had some niggling nodules on my thryoid for at least a few years, and again celebrated their being benign. Speaking of this video call, 2021 was the year I got to know some of my doctors up close and personal via the screen, in a way I had not previously. I mean, who had ever really studied their MD's nostrils in high def pre-Covid?
September, usually my favorite month, was nondescript this year. I had continued to freelance and job search and it felt that I was at a standstill. I had had to stop tutoring in person and was not doing remote tutoring. I enjoyed a number of Zoom sessions, continuing a year-long trend to maintain sanity, on everything from Georgian history to alumni meetings. Note: had never quite appreciated my lipstick or silky blouse collection as much, as hard pants as they are called became a thing of the past. I make no qualms about my enjoyment of delicious sweats, drawing a line at PJ bottoms (usually).
October was my new favorite month this year. The leaves seemed even more resplendent. I spent a lot of time at my favorite diner, a local hang where the staff had once found my Paypal credit card and tried to track me down via social media. That's good service! It sits alongside a creek here in Branford, and although I fear its many unmasked patrons, the staff is masked and professional, the food yummy and view breathtaking. In October I also began moving from
medical to
tech writing, learning more about app development than I ever thought I could cram into this little brain. I balanced that with my addiction to "90 Day Fiance" every Sunday night and Rachel Maddow. By the way, this year I always noted when Rachel used a word I didn't know.
! I finally got to return to my beloved Manhattan.
Like a song out of Gershwin, there I was on the train, Metro North out of New Haven, on my way to the Polonsky Exhibition at the
Public Library. It had been 22 - 22! - months since my previous trip. How fortunate was I to have gone that day, on a day of hope, long before the dreaded Greek O word plaguing us. I relished in this return to a period I studied, the Long 18th Century, soaking up the handwritten Bill of Rights copy of Jefferson's and a fascinating series of notes from Senators against the push of Susan B. Anthony (19th Century). History is learned through living, from books, and by visiting museums. Afterwards, I walked up Fifth to Central Park, up Central Park South to Whole Foods, where I remarked on its changes. I had not been since Covid, as I said, so was not quite prepared for the new high-tech way to check out. A man barked that I was cutting ahead, when I simply had not understood the electronic numbering system. No matter, I left with my sandwich and fizzy drink, on my way to my favorite rock in the park. "Will you take my picture?" I asked a young tatooed woman. "I'm vaccinated!" Sure, she said, and snapped several of me in my element, arms flung wide as I spun around.
, we knew that our lives were once again unravelling. One more
. Five more pounds gained. I was having nightmares again, even though by day I was pretending mask-wearing and staying six feet away from anyone I deemed handsome was absolutely normal, that sniping at strangers who invaded space was just "the new normal". Brian Williams left MSNBC, which for some reason made me very emotional, just as seeing Parklane Deli in Milford, Connecticut go under. I became aware that even small changes were rattling me. I realized the comfort of hugging the same stuffed pig or seeing the same Walgreen's checkers, the value of the commonplace. I had enjoyed a trip into Stamford to meet a distant cousin a few months earlier, but upon returning was overcome with anxiety. The stark contrast between the way my favorite restaurant had been on my birthday in 2014 versus on that day, empty (though it was lunch, but still), hurt in a way my vocabulary cannot fully describe.
would say about all of this, what she would advise me. Oh yes, I had once again begun trying to unravel her mysterious death after a catheterization, as a heart attack just right then made absoultely no sense. Part of me now was grateful Mom had passed before Covid, just as my sweet
, whom I had taken to Europe and the UK, had done. Now it was just I, facing an uncertain future, tossing at night, turning the page and yet always looking back. I told my brother my first love, a pilot, had written to me in 2010 that he taught his students the danger in looking back. It could kill a person.
Let's all look forward, then. It can only get better.
Comments
Post a Comment