HOWEVER...
This is a plague and I have this space. I have feelings. I have observations. I have no answers. So, here we go:
What I did on my Covid Vacation:
I started by kissing my income goodbye for the foreseeable future. I will miss it, and the things I did to earn it. It's gone. So long. Pretty much everyone is going to have a story like this on some level, especially as it plays out over the long haul. I will not bore you with the details except to say that I earned money in the tourism economy, and there is currently no tourism economy. Thus... #CovidVacation.
I ate some homemade corn bread with cream cheese and banana. I like to cook.
I also decided to try to keep a higher cooking game going. Make it attractive, even if it's cheapass. There's going to be a lot of home cooking over the next few months. Restaurants are closed. A lot of them will go bankrupt. I guess I could order in, but who's got money for that? Plus, germs.
I had a quick phone chat with my brother. He's had a small cold over the last week or so. This is all perfectly fine, but also scary in today's situation. We're going to try to have a bike ride together soon. As far as I can tell, things like that are on the short list of what's safe and acceptable to do, outside your home, during the plague.
I made a big bottle of Lysol disinfectant spray. My wife and I are in semi-isolation at the moment, but, psychologically, it's nice to have a big gun to shoot.
I rode my bike to New Brighton Park. I love cycling. Have done for years. #PlagueVancouver seemed a surreal place. As I pumped and soared through the streets of East Van I saw many, many folks out and about. All walking in small groups. Walking strollers, walking dogs, mowing lawns, riding bike in the sunshine. A lot of people not at work, I'd say.
One person smiled at me. From a safe distance. I smiled back. Otherwise, a lot of blank faces.
When I parked the bike at the park, I took a moment to sit and breathe in the Pacific Ocean.
I have loved this place for decades. I did a gig up at the amusement park nearby when I was a first year music student, thirty-plus years ago. I drank rye from a flask with a long-dead friend here, "back in the day". I have walked here with wife and lover, and dog. Gazing at the settler culture commerce of the harbour, I reflected on the nineteen men who died building the bridge. (It's called Iron Workers Memorial for a reason). I thought back further to pre-settler times, and imagined the Coast Salish Nations living their lives here, enduring a Smallpox plague of their own, a mere couple hundred years ago.
And I had feelings. There was a temptation for a small weep, but I resisted and rode home.
I ate bunny noodles and then slept for a while. Then I had afternoon coffee. I call it #NoodlesNapNext.
I patted my dog. He is old and lovely.
I opened a zoom account and then shared alcohol with people I love, via the internet.
Intermittently, all day long, I compulsively checked my phone for news and information. I will be doing this for a long time. I struggle with the sheer volume of it, seeking useful knowledge while trying to fortify myself against irrational fear. Calm, honest science and commentary, please.
These sources are okay:
https://www.cbc.ca/news
https://thetyee.ca
After all that, before bed, I texted my son to encourage him to come home. Not necessarily move home... just come home... you know, in general, regularly and stuff. Things are wiggy.
Tune in next time when I will tell you about phoning elderly family members, cleaning out the storage, and walking to the liquor store.
Peace, love, health, safety.
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