What we will remember about a year we’d just as soon forget
/The Boston Globe
Beverly Beckham:
I am trying to put a spin on it, trying to look back at 2020 and cherry-pick some good things that happened in this god-awful year. There have been good things, right? Babies born. So many babies. I see their pictures on Facebook: Haley’s son, Carter; Ali’s son, Benjamin; Emily’s daughter, Maeve; Meryl’s twin grandsons, Leo and William. In all the pictures the babies are beautiful and everyone looks happy.
In real life, I haven’t seen these babies, though. Maeve lives just down the street. But there is no visiting babies in real life. No holding. No hugging. No stopping by.
This, too, shall pass. That’s what we tell ourselves. In the meantime? Chin up and soldier on.
And what have we learned while soldiering on? This is what I ask myself today. Have I learned anything useful? Interesting? Particular to right now?
I have learned that even though this pandemic isn’t like World War II, it is still hard. It isn’t Kristallnacht or cattle cars packed with people on their way to concentration camps. It isn’t hiding in an attic. It isn’t even rationing or putting your car up on blocks so that the rubber tires can be donated to make tires for Jeeps and planes. There are no shortages of butter and sugar. No blackout curtains. We have food and shelter and heat, plus FaceTime and Zoom.
But it’s hard not to hold newborns. Hard not to hug your son when you haven’t seen him in months. Hard not to be able to race to the hospital to comfort a sick friend. Hard having Christmas Day without celebrating with family and friends.
What I have learned from this pandemic is that “Some days are diamonds. Some days are stone. Sometimes the hard times won’t leave me alone.” John Denver sang this in 1981. I find myself singing it every day.
I have learned, too, that my attention span, which was never long, has vaporized. For example, just now writing the word “sing” made me think of the word “whistle,” which made me think of a book I read or half read whose title I forget, which taught me that the sound of whistling made Winston Churchill angry. And that he took two baths a day. These are the crazy things that stick in my head now. Not titles. Not authors. Just useless facts.
I have learned that it’s not just the names of books and authors that don’t stick. Sometimes when my grandmother had finished a novel, she’d lay it on the kitchen table, sigh, light a cigarette, and turn to me and say, “You know what? I think I read this book before.” And I’d shake my head and ask her, “How can you not remember what you read, Nana? How can you not remember an entire book?”
Now I know.
I have learned that I am never going to speak Spanish in this lifetime. I’ve had more than enough time to listen to the tapes I bought years ago and read the “Spanish for Beginners” book that’s been on my desk for so long its pages look like parchment. But here we are nine months into isolation and I still cannot pronounce huevos rancheros.
I have learned that I am never going to see my waist again. I miss my waist. But not enough to do crunches and planks. I walk. And then I come home and make hot chocolate and devour Walkers Shortbread cookies, which are made in Scotland and taste like the shortbread my mother-in-law used to make. Shortbread makes me happy. And Brigham’s Chocolate Chip Ice Cream with Kahlua. And those chocolate-covered chocolate chip Dunkers that Trader Joe’s sells. I have learned that sweets make a person feel better.
I have learned that I have a closet full of clothes that I will never wear again. Dresses? Fancy blouses? Shoes with high heels? Pants with zippers? Never.
I have learned that right now would be a perfect time for Days of the Week underwear to make a comeback. Remember them? They came as a boxed set, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday embroidered on each pair. The trash man picks up on Monday morning (except Monday holidays) and “60 Minutes” is on Sunday night. Right now this is the only way I can differentiate days.
I have learned that it’s important to like the people you’re stuck at home with. Because it’s hard to be stuck at home even with people you like.
And I have learned the value of EarPods.
When the calendar turns, hope grows. A new year. A new president. A new vaccine. A new start.
I have learned not to get my hopes high but to continue to soldier on.