DINING OUT REDUX
Let's all get nostalgic for those days of the unnecessary mask, the ineffective social distancing, and such viral petri dishes as the local Mom & Pop store.
Most are tired of running the dishwasher; shopping at the grocery store; cooking; baking; and cleaning up. Have to admit I'd reached my limit . . . but not entirely.
I grew up in a lower middle class area of southern New Jersey. Born in Camden. Dad moved us to a Post WWII housing development (Laurel Mill Farms) in 1962. My father, a veteran of the Pacific Theater, worked as an unskilled laborer in an oil refinery. My mother a part-time secretary at a JC Penney mall store, the first in Audubon and the second at Echelon.
99% of our meals were either taken at home, or packed in brown bags for school. My father had a metal lunch pail with the curved top for his thermos.
Grocery shopping, cooking, and cleaning were the norm.
Capitulating in Place has had zero effect on Lee and me, save for the eventual lack of patience after the curve was flattened to the point it looked like it was part of the axis on which it progressed. We took on domestic chores, and eschewed take-out. I channeled my great-grandfather, who owned and operated a German bakery in Mantua, New Jersey.
We ran the dishwasher and washed certain things by hand . . . a lot.
This is how I used to live. We used to live. The oddity, and not the norm, was the occasional meal out.
And here we are. Today is May 30th. We have had five dinners out in ten nights. It feels somewhat normal, except for the face mask rules, which are that it must be worn inside before getting outside, and when passing by tables, which is pure theater.
At some point, all this fuss might be forgotten, or at least become nostalgic. Remember when we ran the dishwasher every day or two? How about all those take-out bags we collected?
And all those bonus Safeway points? Those were the days.