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April Fools!

April Fools!

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With deep respect for the unprecedented situation in which we find ourselves … today the universe has a chance to tell us this is all a big joke, that we aren’t actually living through a pandemic. I doubt a chorus of “April Fools!” will be forthcoming, though.

In fact, I’ve heard that Google and other big companies will not be concocting their usual April 1st pranks out of respect for those fighting the coronavirus. A sound move for corporate PR — though not for those of us trying to approach the situation with the occasional leavening of humor.

So on this day I’m calling up the funny memes sent by my colleagues, including the ones you see here.

Happy April 1st … or something like that!

(Thanks to all the members of the wonderful Winrock Comms Team!)

No Banner

No Banner

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I haven’t been keeping an official count, but by my haphazard reckoning, today is the first in weeks when the Washington Post has not had a banner headline. Instead, there was a five-column head, “Stay-at-home orders for capital region,” to explain yesterday’s announcement from the governors of Maryland and Virginia and the mayor of D.C., that residents can only venture outside for essential business. You had to turn go page A5 to learn that Virginia Governor Northam’s order extends to June 10 — which was big news around here.

What this says to me — the monumental announcement and the lack of banner headline — is that this is the new normal. You can’t keep slapping a huge headline across the top of the paper day after day even though the news continues to shock, amaze, sadden and befuddle us. At some point the shock, amazement, sadness and confusion becomes the way things are now.

I realize I’m one of a vanishing few who even read a hard-copy newspaper, let alone pay attention to the width and point size of the lettering across the top. But what this says to me is that we are becoming inured to this upside-down world. How inured? Ah, that’s the rub. The trick is how we adjust and what we lose as we do.

(Empty roads: part of the new normal.) 

Blossoms Remembered

Blossoms Remembered

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It’s been years since I’ve missed seeing D.C.’s famous cherry blossoms. It’s one of my own personal rites of spring — walking beneath the massed pink flowers, petals falling gently on our heads, seeing the city transformed.

There are always crowds: picnickers, photographers, little kids who stray too close to the Tidal Basin. Many people dress up for the occasion, and it’s a favorite for engagement shoots. But the clamor and craziness of it is part of the experience, as are all the times I’ve gone before with my family and with my parents years ago. Those earlier visits are with me each new year when I brave the crowds to see the blossoms again.

This year there are no tourists. Roads are blocked off discouraging congregation. Those who venture down are masked and gloved. They’re maintaining social distance.  I will not be one of them.

But I can imagine what it’s like, can take a virtual walk beneath the trees.

The Sunday Funnies

The Sunday Funnies

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The pandemic is creating many strange situations, some terrifying, some exasperating and some … unexpectedly funny. I just experienced the latter.

The humor came not from one of the many memes circulating via group text, nor from a streaming late-night comedy show but from the videotaped Mass provided by my Catholic parish.

The service was conducted with utmost respect and solemnity, but a series of little blunders left me chuckling by the end. First, the voice track of the video lost sync with the action, which made all the speakers look like they were being dubbed. Next, church bells started ringing loudly toward the end of the service, which seemed to surprise everyone on the altar.

And then there was today’s presider  — a puckish older man who brings smiles even on ordinary Sunday. When it came time for the sign of peace, Father Dick shrugged, looked around and finally settled on a jolly, window-washer-type wave. Next, he had to be reminded to alert parishioners to the food van in the parking lot today (a whispered reminder from the pastor that was transmitted to the listeners through the mic Father Dick was wearing on his vestments). And finally, he began the dismissal before giving the blessing. When he realized his mistake, he knocked on his head and said, “Well, at least some things are happening like usual around here.” It was a splendid self-deprecating  recovery that left me laughing out loud.

I’m not sure Hollywood will be calling my church anytime soon. But … maybe they should.

Bingo!

Bingo!

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The line stretched past the supermarket and the auto parts place, almost to the furniture store by the time I got to the store, pulled on my rubber gloves, picked up a cart and stood in line this morning. It’s grocery shopping in the age of COVID-19.

Once inside I was making my usual rounds when I suddenly remembered I ought to make a beeline to the paper goods aisle. And there, almost mirage-like, were a couple dozen packages of toilet paper … and even more of paper towels. There was liquid soap, too.

I grabbed one package each of toilet tissue and towels and some hand soap. My shopping trip would  have been complete even if I ended it right there.

But I was able to get everything else on my list — picked up not in the usual circular way, around the perimeters first then aisle by aisle but by zigzagging from one potentially scarce set of items to another. Skim milk. Check. Spaghetti. Check. Bread. Check.

Back home now, with cans and packages wiped down and put away … I’m ready for a nap.


(Another day, another store. This week I was able to find everything on my list!)


Drifting Westward

Drifting Westward

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Untethered by office routines, I find my days starting and ending a little later each day. This is especially true because I work closely with people in Central Time, so without the cues of the local office, I am being pulled into their frame of reference.

At some point, there will be a rude awakening. I will have to get up early, put on work clothes and make my way down to the office. But that time seems far away.

For now, we live in a netherworld where there’s work aplenty but not only can it be done from the living room couch, but it must be done from the living room couch (or some other remote spot).

So on this rainy Wednesday, as I sip my fourth cup of tea, I find myself drifting … ever westward.

(Not as far west as this photo would make you think, but a girl’s gotta dream!)

Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

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Entertainment in a time of coronavirus: We need it, though we may be a bit reluctant to speak of it when the death numbers keep rising and the photo above the fold of today’s Washington Post is of a stack of caskets in Italy.

Nevertheless, entertainment is helping many of us make it through. The Netflix servers (if they have servers) must be groaning from the load these days. And the same for Amazon Prime and Hulu and of course all the cable news stations, especially the news and movie ones.

I began to watch a show called “Pandemic,” a Netflix documentary. It was made last year but is so spot-on in its depiction of what’s happening now that it’s worth watching for that alone. But I decided last night to try something different, and watched “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood,” a movie about Mr. Rogers and his relationship with a cynical journalist.

Turns out, there really was a cynical journalist. He really did write a long article about Mr. Rogers in Esquire magazine, and he and the journalist really did become friends.

Interested in how true-to-life the movie was, I read an article on its accuracy. It pointed out the differences, and also said that we don’t see enough of Mr. Rogers, that we don’t learn enough about his life. I saw the documentary about Mr. Rogers and found it boring, as I found Mr. Rogers (though my kids did not, and that’s what mattered).

But the movie’s story about Mr. Roger’s effect on others touched and inspired me. We see Mr. Rogers stooping to talk with a boy with cancer and assure him that he’s strong on the inside. We see Mr. Rogers swimming and Mr. Rogers praying for the people in his life, saying their names one by one. 

I took from it a simple truth: that there is always hope and that we must help each other. Not a bad message in a time of coronavirus.

(Photo: Screenshot of the Esquire cover from the 1998 article by Tom Junod. The film also contains a great scene of magazines being printed that I loved, being an ink-on-paper journalist at heart!) 

Solace of the Suburbs

Solace of the Suburbs

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The title of my blog has always carried with it a faint whiff of irony. The suburbs aren’t made for walking, as anyone who’s lived in them will attest. And I’ve never hidden my mixed feelings about living in the suburbs.

However … the pandemic has reminded me of urban density, suburban space — and why we ended up with the suburbs in the first place.

People moved out of urban cores for green grass and family harmony, to stretch their legs and put some distance between themselves and their in-laws. But they also moved for their health and safety, for clean air and open space.

The suburbs have no urban buzz, no throngs surging up the avenue. But if you’re looking for social distancing, the suburbs are the right place to be.

New Shopping Etiquette

New Shopping Etiquette

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The local supermarket opens at 6 a.m. I was there by 6:30. I was not alone.

Inside, the place was bustling, with many customers wearing masks and gloves. As expected there was no soap or paper products, and the meat case was almost empty, too.

There was little to choose from in the lettuces and greens section (one of my favorites). I managed to score a small container of arugula (it lasts a while) and a small bag of mixed greens.

Moving on, I was delighted to see the dairy case fairly well stocked. I grabbed what I thought we needed but am already wishing I’d bought more.

The new shopping etiquette makes for a delicate dance these days. If you grab too much you feel greedy. If you don’t take enough you feel foolish.

I tried for the middle ground. I hope I achieved it.

More Fragile

More Fragile

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On this day I will always associate with Dad (six years today), I think about him and his generation, what they had to deal with — a depression, a world war, polio, scarlet fever, random infections which could easily lead to death in those days before antibiotics.

It was a more fragile world but not a worse one.

Where will this worldwide pandemic lead us? Right now it’s to confusion and panic. But where will we be, what will we be like, when the dust settles?  Will we let fear transform us to meanness? Or will we become wiser, kinder, more prepared, chastened to a greater compassion?

For us, too, a more fragile world could, perhaps, be a better one.