unHooked

This post is inspired by a refrigerator magnet that reminds me to write drunk and edit sober. Just for the record, I’m not drunk. But I am writing. Since COVID 19 (“SC” — sort of like BC and AD), I look at my home differently. No, I’m not bored with it. Almost none of the many “immediate” or even “some day” upgrades I envisioned 21 years ago have been done – yet. But 35 year old carpet not withstanding, nearly every inch has been lovingly curated with our own personal blend of old and new, antique and modern, casual and formal. I look at it differently now because of COVID 19 and here’s why: I now move from room to room thinking “Now this would be a great Zoom interview background!” I blame Anthony Mason. I like Gail King, so I have CBS This Morning on most week days and SC, there’s been a lot of hoopla about the painting that appears over Anthony’s shoulder every morning.

I have a couple ideas for the venue of my non-existent Zoom interviews. One is in what’s now my spare bedroom. It was initially my daughter’s room and later my son’s. After all the mood swings and paint colors, it’s probably an entire square foot smaller than when we moved in. Now, it has been carefully transformed into a peaceful but interesting room where anyone could, although very few actually do, rest comfortably wrapped in the family treasures placed here and there, on the cool cotton sheets, under the thick down duvet, safe and loved. There’s a interesting collection of items on the wall above the night stand (inherited from my grandfather) that might just rival Mr. Mason’s gigantic impressionist version of Venice. However, as the night stand is not very tall, the interview would need to be done with me sitting on something the height of a plastic milk crate. Or, I suppose I could relocated the collection to accommodate an actual desk chair. If I must.

Another option is the antique floor to ceiling wooden book shelf, housing a small but handsome portion of my eclectic book collection, a 1930’s Corona typewriter and a tiny photo-booth black and white of my best friend and I from 40 years ago in a bright union jack frame, among other things. Might make me look smart, if not well read. Also not ideal, however, as there is nothing in front of the bookcase and just plopping down a kitchen chair might look a little forced.

There’s also the Reading Room (which is actually the dining room, even though the dining table currently occupies the living room). In that bright and sunny room, there’s a splendid portrait wall which you can contemplate for hours on end from the sofa on the opposite wall. That might work best as there are actually two lovely old leather and nail head chairs there. They came from a long ago renovation of an attorney’s office. I was 20 something and ran errands for the firm, he was 80 something and finally surrendering the corner office which was actually bigger than the apartment I was living in at the time. I measured.

I have absolutely no idea why I might be interviewed. Maybe to tell funny, slightly self deprecating stories about my life. Maybe my Dad’s theory about the cause of cancer turns out to be right and the world wants to know why I made the cure public knowledge rather than filing for a patent. Maybe my TV show idea — American Picker’s: Diva Edition — makes such a splash on YouTube that the History Channel picks it up and it’s a huge hit. Maybe I’m just a guest on a revival edition of Wayne’s World.

Regardless, I’d try my best to be an interesting and lively person who: was a three month old embryo when JFK was shot, an infant at the time Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated, a 38 year old mother of two on 9/11, standing incredulously in my kitchen in pink silk men’s style pajamas, my 4 year old on my hip, a largely unscathed survivor of the Great Recession and a weary empty-nester when COVID 19 hit. Just a regular person. Just trying to make sense of it all. Just wondering what my parents would be thinking if they were still alive. Just feeling bruised and lame along with so many others, hand cuffed, side-lined, rendered helpless — useless — by a virus.

COVID 19 babies will wonder what all the fuss was. After all, their main point of reference will be old ladies on outdated media platforms taking about nothing seated in front of long forgotten books or paintings or pictures of people no one remembers any more. If we’re lucky, they’ll be hard pressed to understand just how close to the edge of global destruction we came. If we’re really, really lucky, that proximity to the edge will have been gracious enough to have allowed our survival. If you’re reading this in 2020, you’re still here! If you’re reading this in 2060, then I say, YES! Some of us did make it through and even though we never met, I am so very glad you did.

And if you do nothing else, please, please be better than we were.