I gave you all it took so then
Stranger than it's ever been
~~ "Godless" by The Dandy Warhols
Our last night out for a meal was March 7th, when we went to dinner before a show, so we jumped on the deal. I just told Ken that I wanted to ride along when he went to pick it up. I've been out a couple of times to the pharmacy and the store, but I find that when I'm driving, I feel oddly on high alert, like someone is going to plow into me at any moment. Considering our rural area, it could even be a plow. So I feel very weird when out driving right now. I was looking forward to just riding along and seeing our beloved downtown.
I didn't anticipate how utterly sad and emotional it would make me feel. I mean, I really did not see that coming. I thought it was a chance to get out and enjoy a little ride on a nice sunny day. The first hint I had was seeing a fence along the main drag into downtown where someone had woven into the chainlink "Stay Strong USA" with a heart. That's when I started getting choked up. It only got worse as we got into downtown. There were still cars out and about but they were much sparser than an ordinary weeknight evening.
I saw so many familiar places and sites but everything was closed down. No one was bustling about going to dinner or grabbing a pint at Brew Werks and the marquee at the Morris was dark. Our usual haunts seemed...well, haunted.
By the time we pulled up at the LaSalle, I was feeling genuine anguish. Because I was the one curbside, I put my mask on. When our server came out with our food and put it in the back seat, I said, "Stay strong! We love you guys!" and I felt a tear fall out of my eye. Then another server brought out our 6-pack and put it on the floor of the backseat and I said, "Hang in there!" and we thanked him.
As we drove off, we went by Fiddler's Hearth and Madison Oyster Bar. No inside patrons. No one walking on the streets. Speaking of that, even the streets of South Michigan Street (what could be considered our small red-light district) were empty, and The Torch and Peaches were closed. I said, "Man, you know it's bad when even the strip clubs are closed!"
What I thought would be a pleasant little drive downtown—and my goodness, I'd forgotten what a simple joy I felt as a kid when my parents would say, "Let's go for a drive!"—turned out to be something that made me feel really sad. It made me think of all the fun times we've had downtown, out for dinner, out to see a show, out to take visiting friends to show off our Riverlights or to have brunch with the Kansas City/Chicago Crew the morning after our annual house show, out to take in a South Bend Cubs game on a warm summer day, out for the Riverlights Music Festival, out for Art Beat, running into friends and family, sharing hugs and laughs...all the little things that make my life so enriched and joyful.
I miss them. I miss them all.
So tonight I'm going to allow myself to feel sad and mourn those things. I know they're not gone forever and I know we'll get back to enjoying all those things and more. We'll make new memories. But I don't know when that will happen. At the moment, things feel broken, and I feel like the repairs will be slow and sometimes painful. Will some of our favorite places survive?
It pains me to say it, but I just don't know. I hope so.
...this post describes how I feel on the rare occasions I am compelled to go out... and one of the weird feelings that I have had reoccurring is how cool and calm Omaha is and while there is some (expected) antsy pants, it has been relatively MAGA-free... no organized protest as of yet...
ReplyDeleteI've been out and about through this whole thing, almost every day, and at first it was weird practically having the road to myself. I hated seeing the empty businesses. The hospital were empty and quiet (not of patients, unfortunately, but of visitors). I began to get used to it and not even think about it. Then when everything opened back up, it was a shock to me to be in the middle of the increased traffic, albeit still less traffic than the old normal. I guess we do grow accustomed to change, more quickly than we realize.
ReplyDeleteI was doing my part for our local restaurants too, especially while Thomas was working out of town. I ordered pick up or delivery three or four nights a week, and went through drive-throughs three or four nights a week. And I gained back almost all of the 25 pounds I had lost between November and March. Oh well!