Some COVID-19 Thoughts ...

Joyce and I have been pretty much "locked down" since early March. Initially, we were going out a little (walking about a mile around the neighborhood each (decent) afternoon), but as the Mask-less Numbers grew, we began to remain inside, riding our exercise bike every day (well, almost every day).

Other than that, we go out once a week to our local Acme Fresh Market to pick up the groceries we have ordered online (and delivered to the trunk of our car). Joyce has been going out to do a little work in the garden. I pop out to bring in the mail and packages--then furiously wash/sanitize my hands.

We have not been to the gas station since March 1--though we will have to later this week: I've got to go to Seidman Cancer Center a couple of times in the next couple of weeks--blood tests, a bone scan, a meeting with my new oncologist (my former one departed to North Carolina).

We are both, Joyce and I, in very vulnerable categories. Age, chronic health problems. I realize that if I get the virus, there's a pretty good chance it will mean buh-bye.

When our family has come up from Green, Ohio, to visit us, we've kept the front door closed while they've stood on the porch; we've communicated via gesture and speaker-phone. Not the best, is it?

But as the weeks and months have gone on, I have become increasingly restless. Wanting out. And, so, yesterday, a couple of things happened.

• Early yesterday afternoon I phoned my barber (Mickey, here in Hudson) to see if he was open. He was. And he told me no one was there if I wanted to run down. Oh, did I need a haircut! (My last one was on February 13! And, as I've posted here and on Facebook, I was starting to look like Rip Van Winkle--or Henry Wadsworth Longfellow--or Walt Whitman--or any other of those Barbate Bros from Yesteryear). Very nervously, I drove down there, donned my mask, went into the shop: No one was there but Mickey, who, I joked to him, would probably need a Weed Eater to assail my face. (And, yes, I removed my mask to give him access to the jungle.) No one came during the six hours it took to cut and trim my hair-and-beard--and he did his usual wonderful job. Home I drove to Joyce, who, I was sure, would not recognize me. She did. (Whew!)
• Our son and his wife and younger son, Carson, drove up to see us not long after I got home from Mickey's (their older son, Logan, was out on a golf course). For the first time since all this madness commenced, we sat out on the porch with them--socially-distanced, masked--and talked with them for about 45 minutes--the first time we've shared air with them in months.

So, maybe, I'm getting a little ... adventurous (cautiously so). Szalay's Farm Market opens on Friday, and I'm thinking of zooming (no, not that online way!) down there to get some preserves and local honey. We'll probably drive down, see how crowded it us, see what safety precautions they have in place, then decide.

And we're thinking, too, about some swift dashes into the Acme with a very limited list. But we'll see.

Lots more folks are out now in Hudson (driving, walking, jogging, biking); many stores are open (in one way or another). But I still see so many mask-less people, so many ignoring the safe-distance protocol. Worries me.

I'd rather not sicken and die right now, thank you. So much to live for ...