When someone hadn't been heard from or seen on the ocean for a stretch, we would put the call out on the ham radio.
Now in the middle of this virus muddle, for me doing a health-and-welfare check might mean a phone call, email, text message, FB message, FaceTime connection, Linked-in dispatch, a postcard (I have huge stack of Red Writer trailer postcards) or even an actual letter.I've been on the receiving end of lots of contact from people, too. It helps with the isolation.
Of course I am hardly alone in our 1,431-square-foot condominium. Sylvia, the Biscuit and I are in nearly constant communication - whether it's convenient for each of us or not. I've actually been eyeballing one of my closets to see if it could be made into an isolation booth. You can do a lot in 16 square feet. Really.
The consensus among most folks I contact is that they are doing okay. Very few say they are doing great. The most common adjective is "surviving," which in this case is certainly apropos on several levels.
Most frustrating for many folks is the uncertainty of how long we may be in this stay-at-home, shelter-in-place limbo. May 1? June 1? July 1, August 1, January 2021. (I hope the 2021 reference didn't make anyone do a Linda Blair-like projectile-vomit imitation. I nearly did just writing it.)
The amazing upside to making these health and welfare checks is that they act kind of like a chain letter. I will write to someone in Pittsburgh (PA) who will mention to someone else that I had contacted them. Then, voila!, I get an email or other message from that person.
And the list goes on. It feels good on my end to hear from folks, too.
I would continue to ramble, but my stack of postcards is calling to me. And Biscuit needs to go out, of course.
Stay safe, stay sheltered, stay sane, amigos.
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