| I have been self-isolated for eleven weeks, probably over-reacting to the Covis 19 pandemic. My children are overly protective and keenly aware of my fragility. And, the fact that well over one-fourth of the octogenarians who have been infected have died is frightening. Consequently I have stayed close to home all this time. I am writing this on June 6, the second day Allegheny County has been promoted from “yellow” to “green” in the gradual transition back to something closer to normal. Two weeks ago my daughter Elizabeth, who has carried the brunt of supplying me with groceries, allowed me to ride with her when she took my car to the gas station for a fill-up. The following week I gathered up my courage and drove my car around a very long block in our neighborhood. I must admit I was a little apprehensive and was happy to get back home safely. Since then we have made a trip to the local garden center to purchase flowers and to the cemetery to plant them at my wife’s headstone. Two days later I returned alone to the cemetery to water the plants, building up my confidence even further. Much more ambitious was my decision to drive to Elizabeth’s home in Sewickley Heights for a socially distanced dinner outside on their deck. This is a trip I have made in the past at least once a week; this time it loomed as a major excursion. I was extremely curious about seeing how things had changed during my absence from driving. To my usual check list – car keys, wallet, hearing aids, cell phone — I added my mask, just in case I ran into trouble during the drive. When I started the car, on came the “Check Oil” sign. Apparently the computer concluded it had been too long since the last oil change, even though the car hadn’t been driven. I will ignore it for now. Cautiously I eased my way out of our neighborhood and onto the network of main streets in our community. Despite it being a lovely weekend afternoon the number of people on the street was surprisingly low. The closest thing to a mask I saw was a teenager with a triangular kerchief around her neck, looking more like a potential bank robber in a cowboy movie than a pandemic victim. I carefully checked the prices at the gas stations I passed and confirmed that the price of gasoline had indeed dropped, in response to the major decrease in driving during the red and yellow phases of our “lockdown”. One displayed a sign reading “Curbside Service”! In front of the French bakery was a sign, “No shoes, no shirt, no mask, no service”. It didn’t really seem to me that the traffic was much lighter than usual, but I decided to reserve judgment on that until I reached the Sewickley Bridge, a consistent bottleneck in normal times. Onto the Parkway and immediately it was obvious that I was driving much too slowly to suit the other drivers. I realized this when a car zipped in front of me as I entered the one lane ramp onto I-79. I resolved to change my ways; I accelerated a little. At about this time I decided that I should turn on the air conditioning in the car, for the first time this year. I rolled up the windows, turned on the fan, adjusted both dials from red (hot) to blue (cold), and waited for the air on my face to get cool. When nothing happened, I began to mentally diagnose the problem. Maybe the coolant level has gone done significantly in the months the car hasn’t been run – better ask Mike to check it when I get to Beth’s house. Suddenly I had a déjà vu moment; didn’t I go through this same experience last Spring? Hadn’t I failed to push the air conditioning dial in till the light came on? The answer, of course, was “yes, you dummy” — one more symptom of rampant Alzheimer’s. The large S curve at the bottom of the hill where I-79 approaches the Ohio River is one of my favorite spots, particularly once the leaves have come out on the trees, because of the way it enhances the miracle of depth perception. Invariably I temporarily close one eye, to confirm the wonder of stereoscopy. If only I could find a way to replicate that effect in my landscape sketches! When I approached the I-79 bridge across the Ohio River, I checked to confirm that the sign designating it as the “Pittsburgh Naval and Shipbuilders Memorial Bridge” was still missing. I have always been proud of the fact it recognized Dravo Corporation’s role in the World War II LST program. The sign disappeared last summer. I had hoped something had happened in the months since I drove through here, but it still is among the missing. Guess I must begin a campaign to investigate its absence. Across the bridge to the exit ramp and onto Ohio River Boulevard. Immediately I saw a Norfolk Southern train heading west, with a long string of double-stacked containers. That part of the economy is certainly not suffering. My observation that traffic appeared to be about as heavy as in normal times was refuted once I reached the Sewickley Bridge. Usually there are several dozen cars backed up there, waiting to cross the bridge. Not so this time; the same was true on my return trip later that evening. Past Quaker Village shopping center, where there were fewer cars than normal in the parking lot, up Ferry to Beaver, then finally onto Camp Meeting Road and its hairpin turns, and into Beth’s driveway. I was relieved that I had managed to navigate my way through this new environment, and that the “new normal” really wasn’t that much different from what it used to be. |
