Yesterday afternoon our friends and neighbors Nelson and Susan Bye gave us a heads-up that they were going to pass by our home. They live up on the hill of the gated community with whom we share sheltered common grounds. We opened the back gate leading to our back-yard patio, set the chairs up so we could enjoy our welcomed visit six-feet apart. It felt like a dress rehearsal for hopeful things to come.
Normally, we would greet each other with a warm hug. Now, we had to be concerned that anyone of us could be carriers of the invisible, sometimes silent, and unwelcomed coronavirus that has sadly afflicted so many. I offered our guests a choice of beer or wine. Cecile and Susan abstained, and Nelson said he would join me in having a beer. I hadn’t had a beer since this pandemic began. When I told Nelson all we have is Corona Light, he smiled. It wasn’t too long ago that Google Trends reported there was an uptick in online searches for “corona beer virus” and “beer corona virus.” Thirty-eight percent of Americans said they wouldn't buy Corona beer "under any circumstances," because of the coronavirus. YouGov.com had to point out “the corona virus has nothing to do with Corona the beer; the virus is named after the Latin word crown thanks to an exterior structure that features little spikes, while the beer is named for the Sun’s corona.”
I got two bottles out of the garage fridge, wiped them down with an antiseptic wipe, and we toasted each other from a safe distance. It was like old times, when things were more carefree and we all dined-out together. Nelson and I would always have a photo taken of us clinching our glasses or bottles without the concern we now have of an uninvited guest in the room.
I couldn’t help but think about the iconic singer Neal Diamond who last month posted on Twitter, “I know we’re going through a rough time right now, and I love you.” He then added “I think maybe if we sing together...we’ll feel just a little better.” He began strumming his guitar and sang “Sweet Caroline with his signature soaring vocals,” playfully changing the lyrics in two places. “Hands, washing hands, reaching” and, “Don’t touch me. I won’t touch you.”
According to Loretta LaRoche, a suburban Boston stress management consultant cited by William J. Kole of the Associated Press in a story on Time.com, “All the hand washing in the world isn’t going to clear up your head.” La Roche uses humor to help people de-stress from the anxiety brought on by this predatory pandemic. “Some people say,” she added, “This is not a time for laughter. The bottom line is, there is always a time for laughter…Laughter helps the brain relax.” My favorite is the tweet by Fox News anchor Julie Banderas who wrote: “How long is this social distancing supposed to last? My husband keeps trying to get in the house.”
A few hours after our guests had returned home, Cecile and I ordered a “Shelter in Place Special,” dinner from Thaibodia Bistro in Campbell, recommended by our friends, the Rothenbergs. The special deal invites you to choose three entrees for $25.99. The generous portions are enough for two or three meals. The restaurant bills itself as the finest Thai dishes with the distinct hallmarks of Cambodian cuisine. I struck up a conversation with Jay (see photo), the manager who offered me a complimentary cup of iced Thai tea.
