Here’s what our world has become. Every day is the same. We don’t know if it’s Sunday or Tuesday. Sometimes the sun is out, sometimes it snows. My wife and I are both 81 years old. I go out walking in Riverside Park every day that it doesn’t snow or rain. I sometimes meet people I know, and we talk a little bit — at a distance.
Last week, I met a friend on one of my walks. He’s a widower and goes out with a widow. He told me he hasn’t seen her since the virus got here, but they planned to meet in their cars and talk with the windows down, cars at least 6 feet apart, no touching, bring your own coffee. A new way of dating!
There are slight variations in the day. The worst day is Sunday, when the Bangor Daily News is not dropped off at my door at 6 a.m. And, there is no mail on that day. Mail is exciting, even though it’s mainly junk and magazines. There are a few bills — electricity, phone, oil, credit card, etc. — and I pay them right away. The best day is Wednesday, when the St. John Valley Times comes in with the mail. This week, the BDN has only 16 pages, and the SJVT eight pages. Will both disappear soon?
TV is the only diversion left. At least we can keep score. Not of the Red Sox or golf, but of the coronavirus around the world. How many in New York, Florida, Maine, London, Italy, Aroostook, etc. How many cases, how many dead. So far, nobody is winning. There are projections, though most of them that things will get worse.
I take a ride in my pick-up almost every day, about five miles. After passing downtown and all its closed stores and restaurants that I can’t go in, I ride west, or south, or east. I can’t go north, the border is closed. Sarah Palin said that you can see Russia from Alaska. Well, I can see Canada from my house, but I can’t go there.
We have four children and seven grandchildren. All live in Maine, except two grandsons who live and work in New York City. We worry about all of them, and what their lives will become in this new and different world.
Marc Chasse lives in Fort Kent.