Opinion

GARY SMITH: Life as a hand-washing rebel

And other notes on life during a pandemic

Greetings from the front. Because it's always darkest just before I figure out how to open the blinds in this room. No, wait, if you pull on that, the blinds go all the way over ...

So here's what's bouncing around in my

socially distanced head:

• Start your car. You remember it. That thing in the driveway covered with pollen? Go ahead, start it. And not because the battery needs it. Just to see if you remember how.

• Also, just imagining what the interstate is going to look like the day we all get to go back to work after most of us have driven minimally for several weeks. I'm picturing a scene out of Mad Max. Now that I think about it, that may not be all that different from any other day.

• I love you all, particularly my family and friends. I can't wait to see you, and look forward to that time when we all can be together and am just waiting for (or, as a fully functioning introvert, ready to put up with) all the hugs we'll all share. But at this point, the person I'm most looking forward to seeing is the one who cuts my hair.

• Not to minimize the horrible impacts of all this, but I am somewhat introverted, don't like going to the store, wash my hands all the time and don't really like crowds. Frankly, I was built for this.

• I'm not going to lie: I purposely washed my hands for just 15 seconds the other day and I felt like Jesse James. Since I wear a mask quite a bit these days, that might be appropriate.

And, I promptly rewashed them for 20 seconds, even doing that thing where you scrape your fingertips against the palm of the other hand so you get soap under your nails. I can only be bad so long.

• I know we're all looking for things to watch during this time, but I would recommend a few movies to stay away from: Contagion. Outbreak. The Andromeda Strain. And, Godfather Part III, just because it's not very good.

•••

At this point, the Lovely Mrs. Smith and I treat a trip to the store with the combination of fear, loathing and dread that's similar to ... the way I normally treat a trip to the store. OK, that might just be me. And I have a reason this time.

But, as a result, we're either using grocery pickup or online ordering for most of what we need (every day is Christmas! If, you know, you wanted body wash or razor blades for Christmas). However, there are times when one of the offspring has decided to brave it or when the Lovely Mrs. Smith's stress baking has overwhelmed our capacity to eat it all and we want to share.

At this point, the ritual that goes on resembles most closely the prisoner exchange from Bridge of Spies. We meet at a predetermined location, leave whatever we've brought, then back away. They retrieve it and leave whatever they've brought, then retreat.

Then we both go home and dunk everything in boiling water while chanting over it to ward off evil spirits. OK, not so much the "chanting" thing.

I'm not sure if this is all necessary. But I'm sure it's pretty entertaining for the neighbors and a testimony to our nimbleness and dexterity. Or something like that.

Now, I have a confession here. We probably don't really need whatever we've exchanged. I mean, I can figure out how to get trash bags and Buffalo meat patties. And the kids probably don't need butterscotch oatmeal cookies and chocolate cake. OK, maybe we all actually need butterscotch oatmeal cookies and chocolate cake.

But the thing is, we get to see each other, even if for the briefest of minutes at safe social distances. And we get to connect, even if we're not physically connected.

I came across a story the other day from New York. Seems one of the folks who lives on the same block as the story's author is a talented musician, and every evening he leans out his window and plays music for the neighborhood.

This being New York, the author doesn't even know who the musician is, but he and his neighbors are starting to treat the events like a major concert, cheering in anticipation and clapping wildly for every number. Every night they all come together, even though they're apart.

We adapt. We change. And whatever the circumstances, we connect. Always have, always will. Because we're all in this together.

Commentary on 04/17/2020

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