Shall we play a game?

I guess “Shall we play a game?” is the GenX equivalent to “Do you wanna build a snowman?” As a true GenXer, I don’t really care which game we play, but I prefer waging global thermonuclear war to sneaking down to the castle dining room to throw snow around. It’s just more familiar.

Global thermonuclear war doesn’t seem like the worst option right now. It would probably kill the ‘rona. And all those cars sitting in garages and parked on side streets with full tanks of gas along with the stockpiles of canned goods waiting in pantries would come in handy for the survivors. And and, let’s not forget, we’ve all had a month of stealth survival training—stay indoors, keep away from everyone else, and, for God’s sake, don’t touch anything!

While complete obliteration of the planet has a certain je ne sais quoi (and is clearly better and takes less time than chess), I did have another game in mind.

I was reflecting on yesterday’s weekly blog about not being able to write about anything other than Covid-19 and started thinking about that game you play with fortune cookie fortunes—regardless of what the fortune says, you add “in bed” to the end. The fortune generally still makes sense, but is much more entertaining. I Googled a few for authenticity’s sake:

Adventure can be real happiness in bed!

Don’t confuse recklessness with confidence in bed!

Savor your freedom—it is precious in bed!

Just for fun, let’s replace in bed with in the corona. The only context that matters.

Adventure can be real happiness in the corona!

Don’t confuse recklessness with confidence in the corona!

Savor your freedom—it is precious in the corona!

In the corona, what was funny-ish is profound-ish. But tack in the corona onto a simple sentence of everyday life and, well, reality bites.

Let’s walk to the market in the corona!

What do you want to do today in the corona?

It’s finally Spring in the corona.

I went to Target in the corona and felt I was taking my life in my hands. Each time I turned a corner I feared something would jump out at me. Blue tape arrows on the floor directed traffic in a one-way pattern to prevent accidental proximity or catastrophic run-ins. Watching other shoppers felt surreal—some people wore masks and searched for toilet paper and hand sanitizer (and found none) and others were mask-free looking at sundresses. I was dizzied with conflicting priorities so I bought Easter candy and dental floss. Felt like a compromise.

Before I risked my life for Peeps, I was grading student essays collected before we all transferred to Zoom University. Reading them felt as surreal as buying chocolate bunnies while wearing a scarf across my mouth and nose to keep out or keep in the ‘rona. The essays sit innocent in their grammar errors and lack of specific evidence from the text; their authors oblivious to what was about to jump out at them from around the corner. Grading in the corona what was written before the corona seems invasive, smacks of vandalism. I am marking time capsules—accidental records of a moment just before—like correcting minutes from a meeting held on September 10, 2001.

But sorry, we were playing a game. Let’s start a different one.

What do you want to do today? Adventure can be real
happiness. Let’s walk. Don’t confuse confidence
with recklessness. Savor your freedom—it will one day be Spring in the corona.