Winter is something we can welcome. Unless it’s a portent of something to dread. In this Boomer Opinion piece from Silver Spring, Maryland, Larry Checco wonders how this winter will work out.
Winter is coming!
The weather is cooling. The days are getting shorter. And as if that isn’t ominous enough, the coronavirus is on us like a plague of locusts.
Gone are the balmy evenings when one could invite friends over, safely congregate outdoors, everyone practicing social distancing, masked when in close proximity to others, and eating the food and drink they provisioned themselves (weird in itself).
Even the space heaters and fire pits some of us bought won’t fight off the onslaught of bitter temperatures to come.
Being indoors feels less like shelter from the elements and more like solitary confinement from family and friends.
Our two grown sons haven’t set foot in our house since March for fear of transmitting Covid to us. In their eyes, we are their vulnerable, high-risk elderly parents. It’s flattering that they are so conscientious. Yet we want to see and hug them, and them us.
We’ll get through this, but for the moment we’re all victims of this pandemic.
I just wish everyone would start donning masks in public so we can get back to something that resembles normal sooner.
Wearing or not wearing a mask is not a political statement. It’s got nothing to do with being tread on. Oh contraire. What good is “freedom” if you’re dead.
Wearing a mask signals respect for the health of others as well as oneself. It’s not the PC thing to do, it’s the right thing to do. Moreover, it’s the necessary thing to do until we get this virus under control via the vaccine that’s finally on the near horizon.
In the meantime, my wife and I will stick close to home. Grocery shop at off hours. Try to watch less toxic cable TV and read more good books. “Visit” people via Zoom. And keep a safe distance from unmasked folks when taking our walks.
My old guitar has been leaning up against the wall for quite a while. I might pick it up and start strumming again. Hell, there’s no one around to hear my singing… Sweet Caroline.
Bring on winter. But let’s hope for some light.