“Have you gotten your shot yet?” A
swimmer from Hilltopia stops me at the corner of 32nd and Roosevelt.
I haven’t seen him in a while, but he seems the same: Fit and friendly.
This is the latest greeting on my
pandemic pacings. Everyone is curious if you’re on the road to immunity.
Fortunately, I am and tell him so.
“Me, too,” he says, “Oh, here, let
me put on my mask.”
He pulls it out of his pocket, performing the necessary adjustments
under his hat and sunglasses. I’m glad he has the mask, but man, I’m sick of the
whole masking up. It’s just so tiresome. And the experts are saying, (Who? Dr.
Fauci? Kaiser Permanente?) that we’ll have to continue with mask-wearing and
social distancing even after we’ve been vaccinated.
Well, then what’s the point? I mean, I suppose I understand that even if we’re vaccinated, we might still carry the virus and transmit it to those who aren’t vaccinated yet. Like young people. And kids.
But for
groups of old people or fellow educators, if we’re all vaccinated, can’t we let
our guard down just a bit?
I saw on the news how a group of Old People, all of whom had been vaccinated, were out partying. (Can Old People party? Your bet your ass they can! Let lose Grandma! Shake your booty, Grandpa!) They were gathered in a park, all seated on their little folding chairs, like the kind you bring to watch Shakespeare in the Park, with bottles of fine wine, cheeses, and grapes, toasting to their newfound freedom from Covid!
I wanted to
join them, but I can’t drink. For other reasons that are still a mystery to me,
but that’s neither here nor there.
The point
is, if we are all in a group and everyone’s vaccinated, then we can let loose a
bit.
I’m sure
ready for that!
It would be
nice to be out walking and when I run into someone I want to chat with, we
could just pause and exchange the latest without having to muffle our words
behind a mask. Because as I’ve said before, I can’t really hear everyone behind
a mask and people can’t hear me.
The other night at the Dive Tank check-in, the polite young lifeguard asked me my name. I told him and he heard something entirely different---Teresita. For a moment, I thought of telling him I was Teresita. Maybe she wasn’t in the Dive Tank and had a Real Lane, but then I thought, what if Teresita showed up? And I was in her lane?
Well, it
wouldn’t be pretty. And, frankly, I’ve decided not to fight the Dive Tank
banishment anymore.
I’m just
wishing that the Herd Immunity would happen faster!
Hilltop
Swimmer is going on about how Berkeley is supposed to open. What is he talking
about? The Berkeley Y? He was telling me this 6 months ago. Is he on a Repeat
Loop?
Tonight, I
just nod and agree that if Berkeley opened their pool that would be cool. Cuz
all I’m doing is walking and Dive Tanking.
“I have a rowing machine,” he brags.
Of course,
he does. He’s a manly workout guy. These types have equipment. Even during a
pandemic. Or maybe esp. during a pandemic.
“I don’t
have a rowing machine,” I state the obvious, or at least to me. “I just walk
and swim in the stupid Dive Tank.”
He laughs.
I can hear his amusement in spite of the mask. “Well, that’s better than
nothing!” he proclaims.
And, I have
to agree. It is better than nothing, but hell, I just want to get my second
shot and do a little partying, you know?
Sans mask.
Sans Social Distancing. Sans Anxiety.
It’s time
to embrace the future.
If only it
would get her sooner!
“Well, nice
to see you,” he starts off down Roosevelt, taking the mask off once the 6 ft distance
is assured.
We are all waiting for those magic moments of when we will be together again sans masks. We did not know how such little things as just breathing the fine clear air is. Like fine wine...sorry you cant.
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