Memories of Lockdown

I wish I had kept a daily diary of all that went on while the government illegally locked us down during Covid. But I do have memories, and many of them quite wonderful.

I remember the stillness and quiet, sitting in the backyard with my wife, watching our children play, watching the chickens do that scratch-scratch-look thing as they hunted for mites in the dirt.

It was a time when the Catholic school kids on the block finally gelled with the Publics, and they traveled in bike-packs all over the neighborhood. Honey, where are the kids? Just look for the bikes strewn in someone’s front yard, in front of the forest where they built an “Indian village,” or over near the pipeline, the one that brings various kinds of fuel all the way from Florida to New England. Diary of a Psychosis: ... Woods Jr., Thomas E. Check Amazon for Pricing.

There are fond memories of my wife and daughters having a tea party in the living room, riding bikes to Duck Donuts. They did TV exercises in the basement. There was family time during lockdown! Busy dads worked from home. Travel sports, that family killer, died. They died for a time; sadly, they are back.

I say this remembering also that our precious family time was juxtaposed against those poor souls who were shut in completely alone and lonely. Some were forced to die alone. A friend of a friend committed suicide during this lock down. We remember all these sorrowful events.

There were remarkable moments, though. One of them was Cathy and Gigi participating in an exceptional choral event put on by musical genius Eric Whitaker. A virtual choir of 17,572 singers from 129 countries submitted their faces and voices in four-part harmony all singing his song “Sing Gently.”

Deception: The Great C... Paul, Rand Check Amazon for Pricing. I remember the shortage of paper, particularly toilet paper. I had heard our local Giant Grocery store had an open hour for seniors only, those over 60, from 6-7 a.m., during which we had free run of the place. About a hundred of us Boomers formed a long line around 5:45. When the doors opened, we made a mad rush for the toilet paper and picked it clean. Sorry, Gen-Xers. No paper for you. There was one Xer who tried to get in line. We shooed him away.

Do you remember those drive-through Covid tests where they stuck that thing halfway into your brain and swished it around. And then you waited for a few days to get the word? And the masking, all the stupid masking. I got chased down by the cart guy at Giant. He was a real masking fascist. I told him to leave me alone, I had the “governor’s exemption.”

We went on vacation in those days, out to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. At Sunday Mass, in the Church where Biden goes, they waited in the vestibule and literally sprayed you down with God-knows-what. And they MADE you wear a mask in the Church. I took my bandana and covered my entire face. I was so angry. And then, it was time for communion—not during the actual Mass, but after the final blessing. You were invited to line up at the side aisle to receive and then immediately get kicked out the door. I was so angry I could not receive. I remember being so angry that I littered. I deliberately littered. I know, kind of a juvenile rebellion, but I thought, let the local masking fascists pick it up.

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