My Sunday Feeling

School started last Thursday at my house.  

Joe took the first classes of his Junior year at Hendrix upstairs in his chambers.  Hendrix College decided about a month ago to remain closed to in-person teaching due to the pandemic.  This, in retrospect, was a prudent move on its part given that other colleges have tried to open only to close a week or so into the semester due to clusters of Covid-19 breaking out on these campuses.  This should have come as no major surprise.  The Washington Post's Sally Jenkins, Dan's girl, aptly described college students along the lines of "poor decision makers who possess car keys."

So Joe will be doing his classwork online for the foreseeable future.  Which ain't so foreseeable. 

My first experience with Zoom was not so great.  It was my privilege last year to help out with the the Theology Club at school.  Catholic High, along with everybody else, shut down. So our meetings last semester went virtual.  Which I suppose in a certain sense is the way everyone does religion anyway if we were to be honest about it.

I wasn't much good at it at first.  But my friend Ed, the faculty sponsor of the group, got me up to speed.  And now I've done the last two VA Legal Clinic sessions online.  It's worked out pretty well.  Examining documents on the computer screen is a challenge at times.  But it's doable.

I haven't done a hearing online yet.  I'm getting mixed responses from my friends that have.  Some hate it.  Some are OK with it.  All of us are resigned to it.  I have a hearing scheduled at the end of September in a little town 90 miles south of here.  It wouldn't surprise me if it winds up going virtual seeing as how one of the parties and two of the lawyers are from out of town.

 But I can't imagine doing the first year of college, much less medical or law school online.  I just can't. My youngest nephew started his freshman year from the kitchen table last week.  He says he's good with it.  But Max is the kind of kid that doesn't get fazed by much.  This experience is likely to test that admirable quality of his.

What an surreal year this has been.  And I'm lucky.  I can merely shake my head at the changes it has brought to this house.  Nobody has gotten sick.  Nobody has lost a paycheck.  The Great Pandemic thus far has mainly been a surreal experience for us.  We are damn fortunate.  

Still.  I sang at a funeral a week or so ago.  It occurred to me that it was the first time that I had set foot in a church since March or so.  I guess.  The priest and the deacon served communion wearing gloves.  After the priest had cleansed his hands with holy water and with sanitizer.  Both the church and the state Department of Health have their procedures.  

The Deacon and I celebrated the second year of my not being divorced last Tuesday.  She looked like a million bucks as she tends to do.  I asked her if she was wearing a new dress.  She replied that while she had bought it some time ago that particular night was the first time she had worn it since "we never go out anymore."

This was not the opening salvo of a typically tedious marital dispute.  She was stating fact. We don't go out anymore.  I immediately began second guessing the outfit I had purchased as a gift for her.  What the hell.  Maybe I'll get to see it on her after flu season.  On the other hand, she bought me a high end bottle of amber liquid to mark the occasion of my not living at the Motel 6 yet.  A much more utilitarian present all things considered.  

But what if she had wanted to buy me an article of clothing.  I buy-make that used to buy-90% of my stuff from Jos Bank and Brooks Brothers.  Both are in bankruptcy and mostly exist-guess where?-online nowadays.

Process this.  Abraham Lincoln wore an overcoat made by Brooks Brothers when he gave the Gettysburg Address.  Or when he got shot.  I forget.  

Brooks Brothers is in bankruptcy.  This is what us writers refer to as a metaphor.  

School starts here in Arkansas tomorrow morning.  For the first time in memory, I will not be at the opening assembly at Catholic High.  Assuming they have an opening assembly. Dr. Ingram, the Deacon and I made the joint decision that I would take a "leave of absence" from subbing until we see how this virus thing plays out.  Let's face it.  I'm no spring chicken.  And I have asthma along with a genetic predisposition to heart disease, the latter of which was described by my cardiologist as "a gift from [your] dad."  

Lord knows I will miss seeing my friends and being with the kids.  But If I catch this stuff it could do me in three or four different ways.  The principal understands.  We will keep in touch.  Besides, we've been friends for a hundred years. He knows where I live and that I keep both whisky and confidences out here on the porch.  I can in that fashion still serve even though I but stand and watch the Governor's press conferences.

Besides, I am a mere pawn in the game of Catholic High.  My highest and best use over there is helping with the choir.  And you can forget that for the time being.  Best that I stay on the sidelines for awhile.  

Joe is like Max in that he doesn't get fazed by much.  It is an admirable quality given the present age.  He is an accounting major at the Little Utopia.  He allows that the subject lends itself to online study.  To which I reply "Good thing he's not a piano major."

Because the surreal is the new normal around here.   We are damn fortunate that's all it is.