A Man Eating Chicken

The COVID-19 pandemic has been unlike anything that any of us have seen in our lives. There’s the obvious things: the deaths, the long-haulers who have been sick for months, those who have lost their jobs and businesses in the name of public safety, and the countless others who have had their lives ruined by this virus. Less talked about, however, are the little disruptions to everyday life. These stressors are destroying normalcy for the hundreds of millions of perfectly healthy Americans. It’s been over a year already, and I think it is about time we go back to the way things were: not requiring masks and only pretending to wash our hands when we go to the bathroom.

Do you remember how good things used to be? Before you’d go outside, you wouldn’t have to worry “am I forgetting my mask?”,  or “will everyone be following the proper hygiene guidelines at the store?” or “do I need to use soap and water after using the bathroom, or can I just wait twenty seconds after I flush so everything thinks I’m actually washing my hands?”. It used to be fine to just turn turn on the faucet in the bathroom so it sounds like you are washing your hands, then go prepare your family’s dinner and then stroll outside without your mask on. I mean, I’m not even sick, so what really changed? Will things ever go back to normal? 

It’s not even washing the hands that’s a big deal. Honestly, it probably takes about as long to wash them as to pretend to wash them (it has to for it to be a realistic pretend). It’s the mental burden that is wearing on me. After using the bathroom, I would never think “better actually wash these hands this time”. I would think my normal thoughts, like “better remember everyone’s name at this meeting so I don’t look like an asshole when I shake their hands”, or “this fruit salad I’m about to prepare is going to rock everyone’s world at the potluck”. Now, it’s all cleanliness all the time. I swear my brain is breaking down working overtime juggling my normal day-to-day thoughts and this new basic human hygiene thing that everyone suddenly cares about.

And what about scratching the inside of your mouth? Like let’s say you are on the subway and you have a canker sore that is bothering you? It used to be perfectly acceptable to just scratch the thing. That’s why God made fingers smaller than mouths, am I right? We could scratch our canker sores on the subway and then resume holding the poles so we don’t fall down. Now, I have no idea if this is still cool or not. I mean, it doesn’t specifically say not to in the CDC guidelines, but it certainly is in some sort of gray area. My commute home used to be my downtime, when I could shut my brain off and blend into the crowd. Now, I’m doing the mental calculus on whether I’ll wind up in some viral video being called out for doing something that I’m pretty sure used to be just fine.

What gets me the most is the loss of innocence in our children. Kids used to get to be kids, and not have to worry about the problems of the adult world. Now, kids as young as 4 need to wear masks, and that means they need to know about deadly viruses. It’s not just the masks. My two sons were out in the yard and one of them dared the other one to eat some old gum off of the sidewalk. Kids being kids. Well, I had to tell them that it wasn’t ok, because now, since it’s 2021, they might get sick. Talk about innocence lost! Last year, totally fine, but I guess everything is different now. If the first thing a 15 year old is thinking about when he’s playing with his older brother is germs, I’m pretty sure the next generation is going to be doomed to fear and germophobia (look it up, it’s a real condition!).  

I could stay here all day and list the millions of terrible ways this pandemic has affected me, the healthy American everyman, but I’ve been sneezing and coughing all morning, so I need to go find a box of tissues. I guess those are suddenly super important now. As far as I know nobody gave a shit about them or used them before…

It’s hard to know what you can trust anymore. There’s the news, but now there’s also the fake news. The same thing can happen and, depending on which TV channel or homeless person you get your news from, you’ll get a different version. When I was a boy, there was only one channel; its name was We’re the Only Channel. We got our news from it and it was the real news. That’s how they’d sign off every night: “This was the real news, ladies and jellybeans”. They were simpler times, before the modern “funny” joke was invented.

Back then, you could trust the government. Lyndon Johnson, or President Lyndon Johnson, as he was widely known, sent me off to fight in the Vietnam War at the ripe age of nine. We lost some good children, but they lost some bad communists, so that’s ok. At least that’s what Mr. Johnson told me right before he took my wallet so he could pay to bring the boys back home. Only a true patriot would do something so rotten to help his country. 

The modern government isn’t so trustworthy. I heard they impeached the same president twice! I don’t know why they made him president again after they impeached him the first time, but then again “there are a lot of things I don’t know.” That’s what the tax man said when he took my wife from me.  That’s when Reaganomics came along, when the tax man started taking everyone’s wives.

Things were so much simpler when I was a kid. We used to play in the street until the streetlights came on. I can still hear the neighbors in their cars, honking and yelling “get out of the street, we can’t drive with you in the street!” Now, you hardly ever see any kids filling the streets with joy and danger and angry honks. I guess those neighbors finally won.

In school, we used to learn one version of history. You knew it was the real history with no malarkey because the textbook was called “Real History with No Malarkey.” Now, there’s all kinds of different versions of history. How are the kids supposed to know what happened and what didn’t happen? Did we evolve from monkeys, or were we designed by them? Was Christopher Columbus a hero, a villain, or a shared illusion? All I know is that I asked my grandson what he was doing on Columbus Day and he told me there was no Columbus Day and it was Indigenous People’s Day now, so I told him that there was no Santa Claus. I thought if I was old enough to know that there was no such thing as Columbus Day, then he was old enough to know that there’s no such thing as Santa. Well, we both were crying, so I guess neither of us was old enough.

That poor kid, he’s all mixed up because the world is so topsy-turvy. Sometimes he’ll say cruel hurtful things, like “that’s racist, Grandpa”, or “that’s sexist Grandpa”, but he doesn’t realize that I grew up in a time where there weren’t any minorities or women in America. It was an “old boys’ club”, as they say. Someday, he’ll be an old man, leering at women and complaining about immigrants at the Cracker Barrel, and he’ll wish he could apologize to his old Gramps. He won’t be able to, though, because by then I’ll be so rich that I’ll never speak to him or anyone else ever again. You see, if there’s one thing that’s been constant in this ever-changing country, it’s that the rich don’t have to do anything they don’t want to. I suppose that’s what makes America so great.

“Wake up son, it’s time for space camp,” says your dad. “Are we rich now?” you ask. “No,” he says, “we’ve always been rich, we are old money. We’ve just kept it a secret until now. Now come downstairs and eat your pizza rolls.”

You have so many questions. Is space camp going to be hard? Will your teachers care that you are going to miss a week of school for space camp? Is your little brother coming to space camp? The answer to all of these questions is no.

You pack up your bags and hop on the bus to space camp. You are the oldest kid on the bus. Also you are driving the bus.

You get to space camp and you are greeted by the head counselor. “Put your pizza rolls in your cubbies and let’s get to work.” Space camp is totally awesome. All of the other kids are really nice and none of them have the same name as you. They have all sorts of space training activities, like eating astronaut ice cream and going on the ride where you spin around really fast and it feels like you are in space. At night you take the bus home and tell your mom and dad and little brother all about space camp. Your little brother is so jealous that he is crying. “This is why we didn’t send you to space camp,” your dad says.

The next day, at space camp, you realize that the head counselor looks a lot like Bill Parcels. That’s because he is Bill Parcels! “Space camp is a great place to find new football stars for the New York Giants,” he says. “Kid, you’ve got the goods.” They sign you to a rookie contract worth $1,000. “Wow, we aren’t just rich now, we are super rich,” says your Mom. She’s so happy that she’s crying. Everybody is crying but you.

Everyone on the New York Giants is really nice, especially Lawrence Taylor who is your new best friend. Your position is defense, which is pretty cool, but you want to play offense so you can score some touchdowns. Phil Simms gets to throw all of the touchdowns and get all of the glory. You and your new best friend, LT, are sick of him hogging the ball so much, so one day after the game you team up and give him a double wedgie. It turns out LT is so strong that it breaks Phil Simms’ butt and he can’t play football anymore. “Looks like you are the new quarterback of the New York Giants,” Bill Parcels says. You go to sleep to get some rest before the Super Bowl.

“Wake up son, it’s time for school,” says your dad. “Come downstairs and eat your pizza rolls.” Looks like it was all a dream. A wonderful, wonderful dream.

P.S. the end is a surprise twist because you aren’t allowed to eat pizza rolls and also you don’t have a dad.