In the early days of the Corona Virus, during the days, weeks and months that Nero fiddled with really huge ego and promised that the sheep blood on the doors would protect ‘murrica, My wife, Pam, and I set out to drive to Florida for an extended stay at my mother’s old house. My brother generously maintains the house for relatives’ use.
We called it the “Michael Tour”, because we were stopping along the way to visit her brother Michael in Virginia; my oldest friend, Michael in Hampstead North Carolina; our boy Michael at Fort Bragg, North Carolina; my sister Ellen in Cross Hill, South Carolina (she refused to allow us to change her name to Michael); then my brother, Michael, in Palm Bay, Florida. It was an ill-fated trip.
When we arrived at Virginia Mike’s house, we learned that Ellen’s husband had died, and that she did not want company. When we arrived at friend Mike’s house, the warning to self-isolate came down, along with closure of all beaches.
Friend Mike made the wonderful sacrifice of opening his home to us for as long as necessary, which was 36 days in our case. Pam did drive half-way to Fort Bragg twice to see Boy Michael, his wife (Abi) and daughter (Chloe) in a park, from a distance, without hugs or kisses. Since Mike is deploying to Iraq in June, it was the last opportunity to see him for some time. Because of my age and medical issues, we decided that it would be better if I didn’t go… a sensible, although unsatisfactory decision.
So, I never saw my sister, brother, or son, and Pam never got to do mother stuff with Boy Mike. Still, as isolation goes, we were in a wonderful house with a great friend; near an empty golf course, where we could walk to our hearts’ content; with an extensive garden in which to putter. We were supplied with endless food by Mike’s daughter-in-law, Maun. So we were well fed, healthy, safe, and well occupied.
We watched the numbers climb, the president lie, the scientists try to rein him in. It was painful, but safe.
To pass time, I began sending almost daily messages on Facebook, describing (with no particular emphasis on truth or accuracy) what life was like for us during the Zombie Apocalypse.
In the coming days, I plan to share those observations with anyone so bereft of choices that you resort to reading this stuff. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy(ed) writing it.