Unseen guests at the table

The Schaefers just made the decision to cancel Thanksgiving. Not to say that the holiday itself is canceled, but our formal dinner – with family from outside our immediate home – is canceled. It makes sense. With the television news, medical experts and most of our country’s leadership, all but screaming at us to stay home, don’t travel, Zoom with family, etc., and events publicized one day only to be canceled the next, it made sense. And although it would have been just me, John and Ben, my sister Diane (a member of the medical community who has been super careful), Charlie (unemployed, staying home and taking all precautions), her partner Jamie and her son Brodie, it still gave us all pause. For two weeks, we all fretted and talked about it off and on and finally made the decision to alleviate worry and stress and stay home. And we talked about last Thanksgiving. I talked with Charlie last night, during a long drive back from Chicago after delivering the first load of furniture and belongings to ‘the new place,’ and I talked with my sister this morning. Last Thanksgiving was our last Thanksgiving with my brother Daniel and Mom. Daniel was sick; he had just gone into hospice. We were talking about going to a restaurant so that Mom, who wasn’t in that great of shape herself, wouldn’t have to cook a meal. Then, it occurred to us that Daniel wouldn’t be able to go with us to a restaurant. Duh. So much uncharted territory… So, as averse as I am to just about anything that takes place in a kitchen, we – John and me -- agreed to go up to Fort Wayne on Wednesday and work together with Mom and Diane to prepare a dinner. I told Diane this morning on the phone: “We had to make a lot of decisions, and most of them were good ones.” From here, a year later, I cannot imagine even considering going out to a restaurant and leaving Daniel alone in his hospital bed – even for a couple of hours. Dinner was good. We had Christmas music on and we decorated Mom’s tree. And that was the Last Thanksgiving. This year – 2020 – is the first year in 61 years, where I will sit down to a turkey dinner fixed in my own home. Before this year, it was Grandma Finley (my mother’s mom) in Lafayette, and then it was my mom’s house in Fort Wayne. For 60 years. For the first time in 60 years, I will get to see Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV. In past years, we were always on the road to Grandma’s or Mom’s. It will be my Christmas dishes, my tablecloth and just us – John, Ben and me. And COVID-19, of course. The unseen guest at everyone’s table this year. But we won’t be setting a place for him. We will carry on, remembering Thanksgivings past and making new memories. And hopefully, this time next year -- with my sister and BOTH of my children with their significant others – we will push back from the table and move into the living room with our pumpkin pie, chocolate cake and coffee. And we will say, “Remember last Thanksgiving? It was COVID and our first Thanksgiving without Mom and Daniel. And Charlie was moving to Chicago. And the news was screaming at us and we finally decided to cancel? It was a hard decision, but it was a good one. Remember that?” And we will sigh.

The Coronavirus Diaries: Breaking News

I’m way late with this second entry. I really wanted to look back and reflect on what it was like when this all came rolling in, but I no longer remember exact dates, but I still want to capture the moments. This entry is mostly for me, so I can remember the sequence of events when and if everything gets back to normal.

Some advice from the television, still early on, suggested that those over 60 should stock up on things they needed for being sick. I suggested to John that each time he went to the store, he should get a couple extra cans of soup, tissues, Sprite, cold medicine, etc. I remember being concerned about my friends’ spring break plans.

The last place my husband and I went was on a weekend trip to Clifty Falls State Park. The KidsPlayers had given us state park gift cards, and we had a bucket list of staying at each of the state park inns over the next few years. We’d been to the Abe Martin Lodge in Brown County; Clifty Inn was next.

We actually started the day at Charlestown State Park. I had heard about an abandoned amusement park – Rose Island – from the 1920s and 30s that had been flooded out (since it was on the Ohio River). A hiking trail ran through its ruins. I thought it would be a great place to explore.

We were practically the only ones there. We saw others on the trail, but at a far distance from us. I had the wherewithal to take photos and notes to write a story – one of the last I would write before things tightened up – to fill the Just 4 Fun pages for the newspaper I worked for.

From there, we went on to Clifty Inn. We ate our meals at the lodge and read in front of the fire, and we watched the news. The NBA shut down; the NCAA basketball tournament first said they’d play without crowds, then canceled altogether; schools began to close; baseball shut down. Breaking news came every few minutes with another alarming change to our society. We learned that Tom Hanks and his wife had tested positive for the coronavirus, and our sense of concern heightened. If Tom Hanks, with all of celebrity and money couldn't stay safe, what hope was there for us? We listened for medical advice on how to stay safe, how to recognize the signs of the virus and what to do if we felt sick. We swallowed and took deep breaths, felt each others' heads for fevers. We were nervous.

Saturday was cold and rainy, so, with some relief, we scrapped our plan to wander around in Madison. Instead, stayed in, read more books in front of the fire; we taught ourselves a new game:  Horrified, a game we bought at GenCon. And we watched the news. We kept to ourselves. We felt wide-eyed at the rapid pace of changes that were going on. We ate in the dining area, where there were a surprising lot of people still. But there was hand sanitizer at the hostess station, our waiter for gloves and wiped everything down before we sat at the table.

It was such a strange and surreal weekend, normal, and yet not normal. Sunday, we slept in and watched still more news. My friend’s cruise was canceled; my other friend came home early from Florida. We left the inn around noon and drove home -- all at a heightened sense of awareness, on edge, uncertain about the changes, uncertain about everything.

The Coronavirus Diaries: what a difference a year makes

I woke up slowly, as I have for past week or so, and got dressed, putting on a long-sleeved t-shirt extolling the accomplishments of the Wright Brothers – First in Flight. I bought this shirt approximately one year ago while my husband and I traveled Ohio and North Carolina in the footsteps of the illustrious Wright Brothers on a spring break trip.

What a difference a year makes. A year later, and we are sheltering at home, because of world-wide pandemic. Is that redundant? World-wide and pandemic? Probably.

A year ago, my dad was still with us. My brother was still with us. My mother’s aging Schnauzer, Hansi, was still grumping around her condominium; my sister’s Westie, Wylie, would still let you pet him, as long as you didn’t step on his toes.

And now, here we are, self-quarranting or whatever we’re supposed to call it, trying to stay healthy, trying not to attract the attention of germs they say can hang in the air for three hours and live on surfaces for up to eight hours.

Last week was incredibly hectic. I spent Monday and Tuesday frantically trying to get ready for KidsPlay’s Tuesday night Photo Night. Wednesday and Thursday, I visited my mom up in Fort Wayne. Good thing, huh? Friday, Saturday and Sunday, John and I went off on a strange and secluded weekend trip to the Clifty Falls State Park Inn courtesy of the KidsPlayers. And in between all that, I wrote up my last Just 4 Fun pages for the paper for awhile, although I didn’t know it at the time.

I said to my mom, as I was frantically packing up to get back to Greenfield in time for a 6 p.m. rehearsal: “You know, what I want is time. Just time. To take care of myself, to read, relax, watch a movie, sew for myself.” I was thinking of the dozens of things I wanted to do – to write in my journal, to finally find the quiet to make a decent website for KidsPlay, to clean my house.

And now, curiously, it seems I’ve gotten my wish. Our front room is cleaned up. The costumes that have been hanging in the hallway for weeks are sorted and put away. And I’m embarking on some creative projects that I’ll write about later. Time. Time to blog about what is happening around all of us. Time to remember what boredom is like. Time to cherish my husband and pet my doggies. To write responses to 10 years worth of Christmas letters. Lol. I’m not going to end this with some sappy quote about time, but, nerd that I am, I DO love this exchange between Frodo and Gandalf….

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.

“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”