THE THINGS I DIDN’T KNOW

MARCH 31, 2020 – This morning during my daily glance the headlines, I saw one that said The Contagion will peak in Wisconsin (next-door) on May 22. Would that it will be!

Thus far, I’ve learned a lot of new things. If May 22 is the regional peak, we have about 100 days before we’re out of the woods—but still in bear country. That means we’re roughly 20% into the forest.

As we enter the 80% remainder I offer a modicum of amusement by presenting an inventory of “the things I didn’t know.”

I didn’t know how many people within walking distance of our house own a dog and how many more people own two dogs. Let’s go all the way and say, everyone except our household owns at least one dog. And we own a cat . . . raise your hand if you’re a “cat person.” (Does anyone not own a dog or a cat? Gerbils?)

I didn’t know that our aging, laconic, somewhat crusty, divorced, contractor neighbor who keeps his house and grounds in trim and proper shape year round, had it in him to post outside his Tudor-style dwelling, a large flag with a big, yellow smiley face on a magenta background. Unless . . . he has a girlfriend I didn’t know about.

I didn’t know how engrossed I could become in Netflix series—Ottoman; Bolivar; Babylon Berlin.

 I didn’t know how living in the midst of crisis can sharpen one’s appreciation for people’s endurance in the face of crises past: war, depression, scourges of every kind.

I didn’t know how much continual exposure to “news” and “opinion” could corrode my mood.

I didn’t know how much Mozart in the morning could restore my mood.

I didn’t know how removed we’ve become from our food sources, and what it is to save and savor every morsel.

I didn’t know how much my nose runs in cold weather, and what strategies I’d need to devise to economize on Kleenex . . . short of my dad’s life-long reliance on handkerchiefs that he—the paragon of fastidiousness—would remove from his trousers pocket, use, then return to the pocket, not once, not twice, but who knows how many times in a day! (!!!)

I didn’t know just how much I despise, disdain, disapprove of the brat-bully posing as president.

I didn’t know how much I would develop the urge to emigrate from a country where a third to half of its citizens tolerate, condone, or actively support the brat-bully posing as president.

I didn’t know how beautiful the moon and the stars could be in the cool, dark night sky.

I didn’t know how reassuring and rejuvenating could be the signs of spring—lily shoots amidst the blanket of decay still covering the flower bed; slivers of green among the sleeping grass; a robin hopping near the maple tree; more robins, singing away in the neighbor’s apple tree; the last snow melting in the shade; the couple unseen all winter long, wearing spring jackets and out . . .

. . . walking their dog.

(Remember to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.)

© 2020 by Eric Nilsson