This Sunday we were all anticipating probably the weirdest Thanksgiving we’d face in our lives with all the dire warnings spinning in our ears cautioning us against travel and visiting friends and family because of the very real possibility that we might infect ourselves or others by the innocent act of celebrating a national holiday we’ve known since childhood. The attitude on the call was, however, not alarm, but mere “whatever,” more pandemic, more poopiness Most of us had decided to forego big events, or that decision had been made for us, and were anticipating smaller events or riding the evening out solo. It wasn’t even that much of a topic of conversation as it was sort of done deal and best not belabored. We talked briefly about alumni and alumnae and about the book the Red Tent by Anita Diamant and the graphic details of the biblical story of Dina which inspired it, which made some of the gents uncomfortable. Then we launched into a very long and extensive conversation of what to look for in a laptop. I’m contemplating buying a backup as so much of our lives we’re now living so remotely depends on our computers and our access to the internet that the prospect of my old workhorse failing is a tad disturbing. One friend kept commenting privately in the chat that our collective lack of knowledge about computers, aside from an individual or two, made us sound “old.” As most of us are over 40, well so be it. Hardware and software issues were parsed collectively and many of us shared issues of minor note that caused major frustration.
We went from computers to more fretting about the COVID situation. New lockdowns are being threatened in various parts of the country, and various parts of New York State, now. Someone mentioned her doorman in her Manhattan building told her several families in the building had contracted it, two of which were on the same floor. One person shared that her building required that a tenant reveal their status to the building if they do test positive. Personally, my building does not require notification and when I asked my doorman in passing whether he knew of anyone who did he said no. I live in a building of mostly young people, so maybe that’s why. However, one young gent shared with me in the elevator when I asked if he minded that I join him on it (even though we were both masked that seems to be the current elevator etiquette – to ask) that he had had it back in April, but didn’t have symptoms while his parent and grandparent did. He referred to his household as a “typical” response to COVID, with the symptoms worsening with the age of the person suffering the virus, as if there were such a thing as normal with this. We talked again about staying warm as we socialized outside and about the vaccine. Our regular with a young daughter shared her on her Zoom box and our regular with a little dog shared him on her Zoom box. We talked about fitting in dinners, haircuts, and doctors visits before any worsening spike in cases or increased lockdowns. We talked a bit about Trump’s refusal to concede even while more Republicans encouraged him to do so, and we wondered about who he would pardon or what important documents he would shred before leaving. We worried that so much of our government relies on people doing the right thing and how Trump often didn’t and that Trumpism isn’t going away and that he may run again in 2024, and we were curious who was funding all his spurious lawsuits. We wondered a bit about who Biden would choose for his cabinet, and how we couldn’t wait until January. And then we retired from the chat, with the impetus that our friend had to put her little girl back to bed.
