Vexations and Conundrums

Vaccination Unknown

Ihaven’t had this much desire to party since my col-

lege days. I eagerly plan something colorful and exciting to wear to dinner. No more yoga pants and tank tops from dusk until dawn, no more days running through the house in pajamas. I am replacing my makeup, as it is well over a year old, dry and decaying. I opt for glimmering, glowing shades that will put life back into my pale visage.

I plan which friends to have over, small groups of vaccinated individuals. They throw their masks off exuberantly as they cross the threshold of our condo unit, celebrating this newfound freedom. The scene is so dramatic, it would make a great opening to a play.

The setting is contemplated no less. I have candles burning everywhere. Fresh flowers dance in vases. I burn essential oils so that the environment is spa-like, creating an ambiance something like an exotic Indian palace.

I had about three such events before we hit a social challenge. A friend extended a reciprocal invitation to us for a dinner party. I responded that the idea was great. I was up for more conversation, laughter, and maybe music. Then my husband reminded me once again that vaccination status of attendees is unknown. We must know the people well, so that we know if they are vaccinated. I agonize over whether we can accept or not. My husband is just as happy to stay home and watch another murder mystery on television.

Has anyone else noticed there seems to be a proliferation of movies about killers and whodunnits since the pandemic started. Old serial killers such as Ted Bundy and Son of Sam are having their cases re-examined in new movies. Could we be preoccupied with our mortality and the seeming randomness of death? I can only watch so much about killing, then I long for the romance of getting out.

Today I saw a cartoon in The New Yorker magazine. Two girls had created algebraic equations to determine whether it was safe to go out with a mix of vaccinated, unvaccinated and vaccine status unknown people or whether they should just stay home and read. I related.

There is a great deal of controversy over what is referred to as “vaccine passports.” These clear up the questions and uncertainty of people’s vaccine status. They are viewed by some as an invasion of privacy. Some countries are going to require them to cross their borders. Travel is a great vaccine motivator for those undecided persons.

There is a third group worth mentioning: Those persons who had Covid and survived. They have antibodies. One recent study claimed the antibodies may last a year. If these people get even one shot, they will become highly immune and won’t have to take annual booster shots like regularly vaccinated people. Even that hasn’t persuaded some of these people to run for the needle. However, these people can make the dinner invitation list, temporarily.

Soon I am hoping this entire issue disappears. We will all be able to gather without concern. This period of worry and paranoia will resemble an Alfred Hitchcock episode. We will look back on it as a surreal memory, relieved that it has ended.

Katina Pontikes

By Sue Schools

On January 13, 1840, a tall, bearded man ran down the pier to catch the steamboat Lexington which was

to leave from Long Island, New York cruising to Stonington, Connecticut, where he could have caught a train returning to his Boston home and family. He had been delayed by an argument with his editor and cursed when he saw the ship pulling away from the dock. He was almost tempted to leap across the divide but knew the almost zero temperatures of the Sound would mean almost instant death if he fell below the restless waves. Gripping his carpetbag closer and pulling the collar of his thick coat tighter, he reluctantly turned to retrace his steps and secure a hotel room until the ship returned.

The next day, he bought an extra edition of the late morning newspaper as he sat down to breakfast and ordered a cup of coffee. He was astonished to learn that ironically 150 men, women and children had either drowned, been frozen and left drifting in the swift currents or burned on board the Lexington when 150 bales of highly inflammable cotton had been stacked within a foot of the smokestack casing.

Only four men survived during the frigid night, most having stretched out along floating bales of cotton and only

seven bodies of the unfortunates were recovered for burial. The Lexington was touted to be the swiftest and most luxurious of all steamboats at the time and thought to be the safest, if not for human error.

Whether through blind luck or divine intervention, the man who missed his ship was almost 33 years old at the time and lived to be widowed twice and to sire six children before his demise at age 75. He cherished the opportunity to live where so many had fallen and went on to be acclaimed worldwide and remembered for his talent.

He was Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and 15 years after his lucky day authored The Song of Hiawatha and some 7 years later wrote Paul Revere’s Ride, among other classics. He was a Professor of Modern Languages at Harvard, where he mentored other talents. The additional 42 years fate handed him were not squandered.

Now in 2020, most of us are past our childbearing years and probably won’t become famous for our achievements. Most of us have many friends who are widows or are widowed. But that doesn’t make our time left on this earth less productive or valuable. Whether we have an additional 5 minutes, 5 years or 50 years, we can count our blessings at being survivors and can look forward to accomplishing what we wish and choose … whether it’s finishing a novel or changing the sheets.

The choices are ours to be cherished. Enjoy and make them count!