8 Surprising Observations After Two Months in Quarantine

Has it been months or years since this pandemic set in? I don’t remember. All I know is I haven’t been anywhere in weeks…and weeks…and weeks.  During this time, living with my husband, mother, and two grown sons, several shocking truths have come to light…

My mom gives an awesome haircut. It’s been 50 years since my mother administered to my tresses. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I timidly asked if she’d give it a shot. “Sure,” she said. In my 85-year old mom’s gentle, competent hands, she gave a cut with all the skill of my regular hair salon. Who knew? Now the family’s lining up to make appointments. Turns out quarantines bring out long forgotten talents.

I have a pathetically small need for socializing. This is hardly shocking since I write about this a lot. But I thought I’d miss restaurants, walking the streets of Manhattan, and strolling Connecticut beaches more than I do. Maybe because I know they’ll be back someday. This is not goodbye forever. That would be sad. Still, my need for anything more than home is starting to alarm me.

My husband Randy and I are adept at not letting familiarity breed contempt – Every morning I wake up next to a man snoring beside me. I’m pretty sure it’s my husband. But during the day, we catch only glimpses of each other – getting dressed, preparing lunch, coming out of the bathroom. When we finally meet over dinner, Randy and I actually have things to say, a rare talent for people living under the same roof 24/7.

My son Patrick has a tyrannical streak. He’s not called “Sanitation Czar” for nothing. I never knew my sweet, wonderful oldest could be so focused and well…scary. “Disinfect everything that comes into this house,” he says with the authority of the high school principal. He’s divided our kitchen counter using masking tape and signs that say “Clean” and the horrifying “Not Clean.” Grocery deliveries are precise, systematized drills that General Douglas MacArthur would cheer. Who knew?

My son Paul turns into a monk each morning. Paul was always at his commercial kitchen job by 7:00 a.m. each day, so I never knew this side of my talkative youngest. Under lockdown, we’ve learned Paul wants to stay in his lane in the a.m., tuning into his smart phone, and keeping conversation to…well, nothing…for a long time. Once that first cup (or two) of coffee goes down, he’s back to his chattery self. Before that, Vietnamese Holy Man Thich Nhat Hanh would be impressed.

My new hobby is obsessing over other peoples’ décor – I’m fascinated by how famous people live. I’ll even freeze the screen if I need to zoom in on a book or photo. Recently, I hit the jackpot with Arnold Schwarzenegger on the Jimmy Kimmel show. Arnold sat in his kitchen, bearded and scruffy, feeding cookies to his … donkey and miniature horse named Whisky? Apparently, they roam his house as pets. That’s when I knew I’d officially gone through the ‘snooping ‘ looking glass.

ZOOM is strangely intimate – The first time I Zoomed was with some writer friends. It was 9:00 a.m. and I was embarrassed to find myself still in my pajamas.  I shouldn’t have worried. My two friends were in their bathrobes and one sat in bed, her husband reading the paper next to her. We all started giggling. Yes, welcome to ZOOM, where every encounter feels like the opening credits for “The Brady Bunch,” a pet ‘show and tell,’ or a contest for who has the quietest (or loudest) house.

“Drive by” parties are happy, but poignant. The other day I saw my first “cars only” fiesta. I walked my dog when ten happily honking SUV’s and sedans drove by, full of cheerful people, “Happy birthday!” signs, balloons, kids, and even a dog or two. I waved to these happy revelers, getting strangely misty-eyed. Such a lucky kid (or mother or grandfather) having their birthday still celebrated when no one can come near, hug, or share a cake. The sight was another reminder that love and the human spirit can’t be squelched.

In the end, I guess it all boils down to resiliency. And yes, many have it harder than others. I can barely read the newspaper, it’s so heart-breaking and scary. But for most of us, the pandemic is just a strange era where people celebrate from cars, we visit in our pajamas, and horses named Whisky run free.

 

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