Coming out of the Covid Closet
By Fay Jacobs
I know about coming out. But I never thought I’d be doing essentially the same thing twice in my life. But my emergence from Covid quarantine feels pretty much like 1979 when I first came out of the closet, eventually moving to Rehoboth, or as I call it, Gayberry, RFD.
In 1979, as I joyously found my way, I burned the candle at both ends, going from D.C. dance clubs to gay bars to dinner parties. I kept repeating “I’m so happy to be out, to feel at home and join the party!”
Now my mantra is “I’m so happy to leave home, and be out with family and friends again!” I know the pandemic isn’t entirely over, and it’s still very worrisome, but with vaccinations and masks, things are starting to normalize a little.
All summer long I re-emerged with a vengeance, meeting up with friends, laughing, drinking adult beverages, and dining on our awesome coastal cuisine. This coming out is a delight.
Although there are differences. Back in the day, for my first coming out we used to come home on Saturday night when it was already getting light out. Now, we’re home by 8:45 p.m. when it hasn’t even gotten dark yet. Instead of a disco nap, to prep for a second wave of midnight clubbing, the only place we go for the after-party is Club Duvet. Z-Z-Z.
My neighborhood, the Greenwich Connecticut of Trailer Parks, had an adult swim night recently. It was a disco pool party, where thanks to Abba and the Bee Gees I was a literal dancing queen. While it felt exactly like 1979 from 7–10p.m., 42 years ago I didn’t take Ibuprofen before bed or rise requiring hip replacements.
Frankly, while a lot of things have changed since the old days, lots of other things changed just in the 15 months of our Covid lockdown. Zoom went mainstream. Didn’t you love zooming with the family for holidays and birthdays?
You know, it’s basically just an old-fashioned séance. Hello? Gwen? Can hear me? Just tap the mute button. No, just Unmute. Hands on the table, get the Ouiji board, Just tap if you’re here. It was like trying to make contact with the dead
Shopping this week, I discovered that during our confinement Best Buy replaced all the paper signs attached to their wares with mini-tablets announcing price and product details. Digital R Them.
Likewise, while we hid out at home, many restaurants decided to ditch germy hand-held menus. Now we get a picture on the table of a squiggly square made up of a lot of little squares, requiring us to scan the squiggles with our phones so we can see the menu on the restaurant’s web page.
Great, just when we get people to put down their phones for a relaxing dinner, we need to pick them up to learn the specials. I’d been avoiding understanding these QR codes for years, but now I must use them to get my nachos. We Luddites are an endangered species.
Actually, I’m worried about our entire human species. Between grammar nullification in texts, talking with emojis and the use of QR codes it’s like we’re going back to the language skills cavepeople used to write on grotto walls. The heck with new math, hieroglyphics is the new English.
And speaking of language, while we were doing time at home, the word Chillax was added to the Oxford Dictionary. I guess I was chillaxing with Netflix and didn’t know it. Another word added while we hunkered down was whatev, an abbreviated whatever, as in “I have no time for chillaxing but whatev.” An additional ‘er’ needed to go away?
Another added word is freegan, defined as a person who rejects consumerism and seeks to improve the environment by avoiding waste. It’s admirable. A freegan seeks discarded goods and food. I don’t know about you, but we used to call these people cheap. Or hobos. But I agree that it’s better to call a person a freegan than a dumpster diver. But whatev.
Additional 2020 words gaining entry to the dictionary are defund (ugh) and the catchphrase ‘simples’ (“If you love Delaware Beach Life, Subscribe. Simples!”).
A lot changed during lockdown, and hopefully the Covid pandemic will continue to wane and become history. Listen, I know the old adage is “you can’t go home again,” but you sure can leave home again. And all summer long I’ve had a blast diving back into real life.
I’m partaking of it all. And I’m especially thankful for getting together again with the people I care about. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.
I’m shooting for a healthy balance between chillaxing and whatev. Simples.
