IN A RECENT Wall Street Journal, Peggy Noonan wrote, “People need hope. Americans live on it. We must return to life.” Like her, many other columnists report that Americans are chomping at the bit to return to normalcy. Well guess what: not me. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, or possibly ever again. They can open up all the restaurants they want, but I won’t be there.
No thanks. The idea of hearing the daily specials from a server wearing a face mask is a total turnoff. Fist of all, could I even hear them distinctly? And secondly, how appetizing is it to be served by someone wearing a face mask specifically designed to prevent spittle from flying out of his/her mouth and directly onto me and my food? In fact, how have I ever eaten in a restaurant before all this started when they weren’t wearing masks?
As for “Take me out to the ball game” —something we enjoy in the summer when the Portland Seadogs play other AA teams like the Wichita Wingnuts and the Milwaukee Milkmen—that’s not happening, and with good reason. People are packed in pretty tight in those bleachers, and everyone is eating the whole entire time. Last season I’m pretty sure I was sprayed with ketchup for an entire inning by the guy behind me eating French fries. I’ll pass on that.
Sadly, attending the symphony, the theater, live concerts, and even Broadway shows are no longer on my list of things to do. This is a dreary fact of life I must accept, being in that age group deemed “most vulnerable” to the Covid-19 virus. In my search for replacement activities, the main one that works for me so far has been eating, so I may take up sewing and begin altering my entire wardrobe. That should keep me busy until a vaccine shows up.
Andrea Rouda blogs at The Daily Droid.