It seems that I have so much to say at this time, and certainly plenty of time to say it, but simply do not know where to begin.
As this week started to unfurl, my wife and I made the decision that —if at all possible — it would best for our family to get the Hell out of Dodge, so to speak, as the four of us jam-packed into our “junior four”-sized apartment (charitably described as “intimate”) was really going to take a toll should the shelter-in-place directive come down (which now seems imminent). As such, after the rigorous unspooling of red tape required to secure enough of my son’s meds for an extended period (way easier said than done), we decamped to Long Island to put some serious social distance between us and downtown Manhattan. We are currently squatting — as we do in the summers with generally far less drama — at my Mom’s place in Quogue. We feel cut off and summarily isolated, but are very grateful. My mother, meanwhile, is down in Florida, which while still not “safe” (nowhere is), is marginally better than being up here.
As a friend of mine suggested last week — a time period which already seems so comparatively fancy-free, in hindsight — the way this has all played out seems strangely akin to some of the videos of the tsunami of 2004. Contrary to popular perceptions of a what a tsunami is supposed to look like, the water didn’t arrive like a Godzilla-sized wave, but rather as simply a gradual increase of water. At first it seemed manageable, but then it kept rising, and rising, and rising, and rising…… and then took everything with it.
Again, so much has happened since last week, when I was wondering if certain events were still going ahead, it seems we — the giant, collective we — are looking at a total shut-down.
When will the coast be clear?
Stay safe. Stay smart. Wash your hands.
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