“There’s nothing to do.” That plaintive refrain has sounded through generations of children as the “lazy-hazy-crazy days of summer” stretch before them. Thanks, Nat King Cole, for the wish “that summer could always be here.” My mother used to tell me, “be careful what you wish for.” She had a point.
Since schools closed in March, some families have developed structured schedules of home-instruction and Zoom classes, while others (no judgement here) feel like they’ve checked into “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” Now, as school winds down for the year, “there’s nothing to do” will tax the imagination of even the most creative parents and caregivers.
But it’s not just the kids. With a myriad of non-essential activities on the taboo list, even us Golden Buckeye folks are getting antsy. Did you know that the “stir” in “stir crazy” meant “prison”? Now you do.
In March, USA Today Life compiled a list of one hundred things to do while stuck inside due to a pandemic. I got hung-up on #19: “Try on all your clothes and determine whether they ‘spark joy’ a la Marie Kondo.” That might have worked in March, but halfway through May, forget the joy-sparking – I’m hoping something still fits. I’ve cleaned out my sock drawer (#64), watched Frozen II (#54), and moved in slow motion (#95) but I have no interest in #72, memorizing the periodic table (been there, done that in eleventh grade). I haven’t watched “Tangled” recently, but Rapunzel’s ideas for castle isolation are inspiring: ventriloquy, candle-making, papier-mâché, and adding a new painting to the gallery.
Fortunately, we can still go outside, which opens up options for exercise and sunshine on alternating days. Lots of people are bike-riding and walking in our neighborhood, and as they pass our picture window, I think that maybe I’ll join them – tomorrow.
Last weekend, the stir-craziness was pretty intense. Let’s take a ride in the car! Our family used to do that on Sunday afternoons when I was young. Sometimes we’d follow the Niagara River towards Buffalo or Niagara Falls, hoping we wouldn’t have to travel past the smelly chemical factories in the Falls. With no Gameboys or DVD players, we sang songs, often belting out “Show Me the Way to Go Home” long before we arrived back at Klinger Avenue.
In the spirit of those long-ago road trips, Larry and I headed to Ashland last weekend. Our leisurely trip did have a purpose beyond boredom relief, as we wanted to get flowers and vegetable plants for our home. Governor DeWine determined that garden centers such as Honey Haven Farm could open, where Farmer John welcomed us and we giddily made our purchases. Knowing Lerch’s Donuts would be on-site may or may not have tipped the scales on our choice of destination (smile emoji). We stopped for groceries at Millers-that-will-always-be-Hawkins to me, and completed our Ashland day by picking up supper at A&W. The simple pleasures of a Corona-inspired escape.
Because I’ve still been going into work, we made the early decision to socially isolate from our kids and their families. The lovely Madelyn Simone and the delightful and determined Elizabeth Holiday have talked often with me about what we can do together when “The Corona” is over. Wanting to improve her skills on her new-to-her Corona typewriter, Madelyn created her list: “Things to do with Nana after the COVID-19 ends.”
I’m not sure when Sluggers and Putters or the McKinley Museum will re-open, and who knows if we’ll ever eat at a buffet again. But I’m holding out for Madelyn’s “at-Nana’s-house” list: making pancakes for breakfast, washing dishes with Nana, cleaning Pop-Pop’s fish tank, and going on Nana’s phone.
Laura Ingalls Wilder understands: “The real things haven’t changed. It is still best to be honest and truthful; to make the most of what we have; to be happy with simple pleasures; and have courage when things go wrong.” In that spirit, Joseph Brackett’s words echo. “Tis the gift to be simple, ‘tis the gift to be free, ‘tis the gift to come down where we ought to be.” Spring flowers, Lerch’s donuts, breakfast pancakes, washing dishes together: today’s gifts, tomorrow’s promise.
No comments:
Post a Comment