Albo P Fossa—April 30, 2021
Remember the poem?
April to May is one of those four times I coax my watch from 31 to 1. Wristwatch? Yep. Time and date are close at hand. And my cheap Timex with years-long battery beats a pricey smart watch with daily recharge.
Thing is, my Timex doesn’t unlock my phone when I’m masked in public. Oh well, maybe herd immunity will ease me out of a mask.
Or maybe not: a toss up. Covid19 made for a very long and strange year. Posterity may puzzle. I recall empty toilet paper shelves. Rolls have returned.
I learned new terms. #Stayhome; then “distance” became a verb, not a noun: social distancing, the new normal. When would it end? Vaccine yearning and eating at home watching reruns brought Covid fatigue. At last, vaccines came, with unmasking paranoia, post-vaccination inertia, and vaccine hesitancy.
Folks who missed social contact now refrain, and may still for years: fist bumps and elbow knocks instead of handshakes and hugs. Folks forced to work at home think, “Hey I like this. I don’t wanna go back.” Zoom! Folks bumped from jobs find unemployment more lucrative than low pay. Now hiring.
Folk once eager for vaccine now pause to protect themselves and others with a simple poke. Lacking demand, vaccine overstocks expire. Will folks come to refuse yearly flu shots?
Near a quarter of folks hold back from shots. Shots for the many protect the few? Some fear side effects, some reject forced body pollution. Covid varieties lurk.
Zorro and the Lone Ranger masked their eyes. Covid hesitancy masks logic and respect. A long year has left too many folks tired of masking nose and mouth, yet unwilling to get poked. The herd ruminates.
And I’ll keep finding the sweet spot on the watch stem four times a year. Time marches on.