A matter of respect

A man came jogging toward Suzi and me as we were walking a trail the other day.

Like we always do, we reached for our masks, but as he approached, he told us not to worry about it.

Although his mask was doing a wonderful impression of a chinstrap, his tone didn’t give off an anti-mask vibe, more that he’d be past us by the time we got them on.

Mine was up to my face by that point, so I just held it there.

One shot down, one to go

Her name was Erin.

As Erin pulled the needle out of the box and put on her rubber gloves, I had the same thought as after the attendant pointed down the aisle toward her table, only more intensely.

”Oh wow … this is actually happening.”

Maybe … that’s ‘normal’ in the distance

Looking at the beer list over our head — the one that started with “Get Maxxinated!” — Suzi said she found the one for me, which is interesting, since I don’t drink.

”Passionately Sour.”

After an excellent lunch of chicken schnitzel and mashed potatoes, I had my mask on since we were about to leave, but my mouth didn’t need to be visible for Suzi to see what I thought of her suggestion.

If we only knew …

Remember the first week or 10 days of last March?

I know it feels like a century or two, but it was only a little more than a year ago that most of us were still enjoying the Before Times, unaware that we were just days away from the full force of a pandemic that would infect and kill millions, cripple countless businesses and turn people’s lives upside down … for more than a year.

But what if we had known?

What would we have done? What would we have not done?

False spring … and hope for better days

I decided I was going to risk it.

I was going to wear a T-shirt on our walk … and shorts.

I even made sure it’s a Syracuse shirt for their big game against Virginia.

Things will be ‘normal’ someday … whatever that means

The other day, as I was again contemplating the question of how we can send a man to the moon and store all of the world’s information in a device small enough to fit in the front pocket of the jacket I was wearing but not develop a snowplow that creates massive snowbanks at the end of every driveway (see also: umbrellas that don’t disintegrate in the wind), I had to stop so I could get more gas for my snowblower.

The week gone by — Jan. 24

Gather around everybody. I have something to tell you.

Consider it a public service announcement … if you will.

The week gone by — Jan. 17

I talk to my grandmother and parents in New York every Sunday night.

Last week, I made sure to tell them as much as I knew about the state’s updated COVID vaccination plan, which was being opened to residents over 75 the next day. (My grandmother is over 80.)

I had to let my mother know because, even though I didn’t know the details, I assumed there was an online element, and my grandmother doesn’t use computers.

Birthday candles, toilet paper and the next ‘0’

I’m not entirely sure what Suzi and I will do for her birthday at the end of this month.

Normally, we’d go to one of the restaurants where we eat for special occasions, but this year, we’ll probably just order take-out and eat at home.

But one thing I do know is that, whether dessert is cake or cupcakes like we did last year, we’ll have a “9” candle for the second number of her age, since she bought one the other day.

Silver linings in a very dark cloud

Tens of millions infected.

More than a million dead.

Businesses crippled.

Nearly everyone’s lives upended in ways great and small.