advertisement

Even with COVID-19 social distancing, the Constable family feels close

I can't remember if my wife and I cooked a special meal at home or went to a restaurant for our wedding anniversary dinner last year — or the year before that, or the year before that. Our celebration during the year of the coronavirus, however, will be stamped in my memory forever.

In a heroic act of community support, we order takeout from our favorite local Italian restaurant and pay in advance by credit card. The restaurant offers to bring me the food curbside as soon as I call from the safety of my car. But after being put on hold for a few minutes, I take the risk of walking to the door. Another man with a takeout order is leaving. I turn my back to him and face the wall and he does the same as he shuffles past, trying to maintain a 6-foot distance.

As if we are spies making a clandestine exchange of secret documents, the hostess puts a brown bag with our food on the counter. When she steps away I nonchalantly grab the bag and back away. She hesitantly offers a receipt. I politely shake my head no. Scampering back to the safety of my car, I douse my hands in sanitizer and head home.

My wife, Cheryl, is a medical writer who works with critical-care doctors, anesthesiologists and the medical experts who operate ventilators. So she's been on her phone headset and computer almost all her waking hours, holed up in her makeshift office in the vacant bedroom of our son Ben. COVID-19 canceled our plans to drive to New Orleans to watch Ben run a half-marathon.

When Langston Hughes Academy, the New Orleans school where Ben has been working this year, went to online learning, he thought about coming home to shelter with us, instead of in his apartment in a city that just isn't the same with no restaurants, bars, museums or music venues.

But he fears that he might have been exposed to the virus during Mardi Gras, and he worries about passing that along to his 62-year-old dad with asthma. So Ben is staying in New Orleans, where Bourbon Street is so empty, the rats are scurrying around in search of food.

His twin brother, Ross, is sheltering with his two roommates in their rental house in Los Angeles. He can do some work, mostly film editing, from his bedroom. The lasting memory of the coronavirus for Ross will be about how he spent more than a week with Academy Award-winner actor Jared Leto and a few dozen others at a silent meditation retreat isolated from the outside world. When the retreat started, COVID-19 was barely on the radar. Ross came out to find people had died, his city was sheltering in place, and Leto was tweeting about how odd that felt.

Our son Will, home from Earlham College and participating in online learning, makes us loaves of delicious bread and prepares vegan meals for us daily since his spring break morphed into a semester break. Most nights, Will, Cheryl and I play a game of Catan or gin rummy. If Will isn't busy with school work or having a virtual date with his girlfriend sheltering in Ohio, we might watch “Tiger King” on Netflix.

The angst I feel about my 15% pay cut is tempered by the appreciation of still having a job during this crisis. Saving two hours a day in my commuting time, I find more time to head to our basement and exercise on the elliptical machine, which doubles as a time machine. As I work out, I watch the Chicago Cubs' Kerry Wood strike out 20 Astros. I watch Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls get the best of Patrick Ewing and the New York Knicks. I am propelled back to the 1980s as I watch Larry Bird and the Boston Celtics tangle with Magic Johnson and the Los Angeles Lakers. My body, unfortunately, is unwilling to go back in time. That is painfully obvious today as I'm still sore from all that lifting Will and I did to repair a section of our backyard fence that fell victim to Sunday's wind gusts.

One of the advantages of having COVID-19 hit now instead of 30 years ago is that technology allows us to enjoy a Google Hangouts online chat with all three sons at the same time. That might be the most fun we've had since everyone started sheltering. Everyone is doing their best to get through this.

But I haven't done a column interview in person since March 10. I miss that.

Article Comments
Guidelines: Keep it civil and on topic; no profanity, vulgarity, slurs or personal attacks. People who harass others or joke about tragedies will be blocked. If a comment violates these standards or our terms of service, click the "flag" link in the lower-right corner of the comment box. To find our more, read our FAQ.