We live in an old Levitt-built neighborhood, built in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Quite a few original owners still live here, and they’re old, so they can’t get out right now. My other neighbors and I are shopping and running errands for them. I did some Passover shopping for the couple who live two doors down from me. They needed some matzo meal and parsley and radishes. “We’re doing Passover on the computer,” the lady told me in her Brooklyn accent. “Did you know you could do that?” I did, actually. I did.
CDC recommendations aside, I didn’t wear a mask to the Safeway, but I did wear gloves. I stayed at least six feet away from other shoppers, and people who crossed the six-foot threshold got the evil eye. I don’t want to catch the damn ‘rona.
*****
When I was little, my grandmother had a set of hardbound “best of” Readers’ Digest anthologies, and I read all of them. In a profile of Alfred Hitchcock, I learned that one of the foundational rules of screenwriting is that you cannot introduce a gun or a knife or even a bowling ball into a scene, unless a character will later use the gun or knife or whatever in a way that is meaningful to the story. I remembered this later that day, as I was watching “Better Call Saul” on Netflix. There was a scene in which a character is about to enter a diner, and the camera rests for a second or two on a sign in the diner window. The sign reads “Today has been canceled. Go back to bed.”
Maybe the sign was a clue, a portent of something that would happen later in the episode, but I’m not sure--I was only half paying attention. “Better Call Saul” is set in 2002 or so, and this episode originally aired in 2015 or 2016 so there wouldn’t have been any way for the producers to know that lots of homebound people would later watch it during a pandemic quarantine. The last half of March 2020 and now probably all of April and part of May have been canceled. Go back to bed.
*****
“Better Call Saul’s” Jimmy McGill is what people used to call a quintessentially American character. He’s quick-witted and optimistic and can talk himself into or out of absolutely anything; and his brain is an instant-recall database of mid-century popular culture, from “Leave it to Beaver” and Monty Hall to Guy Lombardo and Karnak the Magnificent. He could have been a character in every screwball comedy or gangster movie made from 1930 to 1950 or so. Watching him makes me a little sad. Something is lost and it will never be found. Something is ending, if it hasn’t ended already.
It’s raining, and I still have work to do. I haven’t left the house today. I suppose that most people in America haven’t left the house today. Thirty years ago or even ten years ago, I couldn't have imagined this. I’m watching a news report that suggests that maybe things are beginning to look up. Maybe we’re turning a corner. I hope so. But we have already turned a different corner, and that’s probably for the best. Things have to change, and not just a little bit. Still, I’ll miss fast-talking, wise-cracking optimism. I’ll miss the shared understanding that Jimmy McGill just assumes as he rapid-fires his way through one pop culture reference after another. Does anyone even remember Monty Hall anymore?
*****
So I shopped for my elderly neighbors. The online Passover couple are bearing up remarkably well. They’re celebrating the holiday on Zoom and they even figured out Instacart. The other neighbor is someone I didn’t know before this whole business started. She makes Chuck McGill look pretty low-maintenance. She won’t leave her house because she believes that someone or something poisoned her; and she also told me that the Internet is against her religion. I spared her the knowledge that A. I found out that she needed help via a neighborhood listserv and B. the mobile phone that I use when I’m talking to her could not operate without the Internet. It’s like the cell phone battery in Chuck’s pocket. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
Because I didn’t know this lady until a few weeks ago, I have no way of knowing if she’s always as crazy as she appears to be when I talk to her (likely yes) or if she’s corona-crazy, like so many of my once-sane friends, relatives, and neighbors. Just this morning, a person who is normally quite intelligent and reasonable sent out a link to a series of corona-conspiracy articles from a site that can only be described as the paper of record for tinfoil hat wearers. It’s Chuck McGill’s space-blanket suit all over again. I spent two minutes on the accompanying comment thread and then I got out while the getting was good. Everyone is losing their damn minds.
*****
My crazy lady’s shopping list is very specific and a little eccentric because of course it would be. The first time I shopped for her, she asked me to get whole wheat matzo, which I did not know existed. I thought that matzo was matzo. I was wrong. There are quite a few varieties. The second time I shopped for her, she asked me to just buy every box of whole wheat matzo in the store. Which of course I would not do because what about all of the other eccentric old ladies who need whole wheat matzo? Did you ever think about them?
Whole wheat matzo, and Smucker’s natural creamy peanut butter and unsalted butter and cinnamon raisin bagels and powdered milk for coffee (not a bad idea actually) and ginger ale and a few other things. I found everything she wanted, because I’m just that good.
Lent is almost over, thank God, which means that I can have my daily piece of Dove dark chocolate with my cup of Bigelow’s oolong tea. It turns out that there’s room enough in this town for more than one eccentric lady. I don’t know how to sew masks, but at least I can make sure that someone’s kitchen is stocked with familiar, comforting foods and treats. At least I can do that. Meanwhile, I have more shopping to do; this time for surgical masks. As of next Monday, they will be required apparel for grocery shoppers in my town.
*****
No comments:
Post a Comment