And... We're Back!

On September 26, 1986, Pamela Barnes Ewing awoke and walked into the bathroom to find her husband Bobby washing up as he greets her with a cheery "Good morning!" None of that would be strange if not for the dream from which she had just awoken, in which Bobby had been run down by a jealous lover and killed. Except it wasn't just a dream, it was Season 9 of the hit prime time soap opera "Dallas." And 300 million viewers got whiplash after investing a year in a storyline which turned out to be made of so much ether. The most famous shower scene since "Psycho" meant that that the prior 12 months on the Southfork Ranch was a mirage, as if it had never happened. 

Welcome to our own Season 9. 

To be clear, it was certainly no mirage, and in many parts of the world the threat is still real. Many died, many got seriously ill and countless lives and business were disrupted, while some were irreparably harmed. But as of this writing on these shores about half the country has been vaccinated, and mask mandates and capacity restrictions are falling like dominoes. And almost as quickly as the country shut down on March 9, 2020 things are opening back up. From theatres to restaurants, social gatherings to shopping, sporting events to concerts, if you closed your eyes and wiped your memory banks you could be forgiven for thinking nothing had changed.

But change it did. While much feels the same as it ever was, much is indeed different. Work never ceased, but how it is done mutated in ways still evolving. Traffic is a mess as large numbers are still shunning mass transit and using their cars, and doing so in hours adjacent to the traditional rush. Schools are still grappling with social distancing and unvaccinated young people. Virtual meetings are still the norm, though at this point they are being driven as much by convenience as by health reasons. And no matter how welcoming the local stores are trying to be we can't seem to break our Amazon addiction for love nor money.

While some have started traveling for business again and taking in films in theatres, I have not. But I have been working on projects in person with unmasked associates, having friends over for dinner inside our house instead of just on the patio, and dining in restaurants as a normal part of our meal rotation. As we get deeper into summer I expect the calls will come to hop on a plane for work, that some Hollywood blockbuster will just demand to be watched on a big screen, and that concerts and plays will once again seem to be more fulfilling than threatening.

Yes, it is likely I will make accommodations to assuage the scar tissue that accrued over the past year on me and others. I expect to be more deferential to my companions' personal space, giving them a bit more room and tuning my antenna more acutely to their comfort level in being close to me. And while not disinfecting every surface I touch that I think another has even breathed upon, I will likely avail myself often of the hand sanitizer dispensers that are likely to become permanent fixtures at every touchpoint in the wider worlds.

After JFK was assassinated the columnist and Kennedy admirer Mary McGrory said to Daniel Patrick Moynihan, then a Kennedy aide and later Ambassador to India, the United Nations and a US Senator from New York, "We'll never laugh again." Moynihan replied: "Heavens, Mary, we'll laugh again. It's just that we will never be young again." And so it is for us. For sure we will laugh and love, go to movies and plays, visit with friends and take trips to far away places. But we will likely also keep a larger supply of toilet paper than usual, not to mention extra frozen chicken. And odds are wherever we are, be it Tahiti or Tennessee, when we hear someone cough or wheeze nearby, a little part of us will tense up as we wonder if that person just has a cold, or if that sound could be the start of the next big something else.

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford is enjoying seeing old friends again in person. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

From Shortage to Surplus

It was barely a year ago that the word went out far and wide that covering your nose and mouth when you sneezed wasn't enough. Neither was washing your hands when you thought they were dirty. And so we rethought almost every aspect of our day to day movement and basically, well, we didn't. Move that is. We hunkered down and avoided people and places. And funny how when you don't see anyone or touch anything, coping with all of the above are very easy.

But we couldn't exist that way for long, and so slowly made accommodations to reengage with the world. First and foremost that meant masks. If you were ever in an Asian country and saw large numbers of people wearing them on the streets you wondered about the local populace's level of paranoia. We would never be that insecure, you thought, where a slight sniffle would cause us to walk around with that thing on our face. We're from pioneer stock dammit, we conquered the Wild West, we're not going to let a little bug slow us down.

Then, in the flash of a Fauci, we couldn't cover up fast enough. Soon even one wasn't even good enough, you had to have two. And then you had to have different ones for different outfits. And in no time they became as ubiquitous as water bottles, as routine as glasses. You stuffed an extra one into your backpack, then did it again until one day you reached in and pulled out ten. They seemed to multiply as if they were Tribbles.

Likewise your sanitary habits. If you used the rest room or touched something icky, sure, you went to the sink and lathered up. But in more instances than not you likely just wiped your hands on your pants and kept going. It was like the five-second rule of dropping something on the floor: if it was quick, there was nothing nasty involved, you gave yourself a mulligan. 

Then overnight we went from the occasional scrub to each of us scrubbing in like we were going to perform surgery. Since sinks and soap were not always available, hand sanitizer became our best friend. We went from those little personal bottles hanging on the odd purse strap to dispensers at every possible point of contact. But ubiquity led to scarcity, and it became harder and harder to find the good stuff, making it akin to moonshine in more ways than one. People were making home brews, and actual distilleries switched production when they discovered that a pint of custom Purell was more valuable than a pint of Pappy Van Winkle. 

And now? Well, forget all that. Almost as fast as it seemed to start it seems to have finished. To be sure, many are still wearing masks, and surfaces are constantly being wiped down. But thanks to the vaccines we can certainly see a path forward, and experts say our prior vigilance can be eased if not forgotten. That all flips the equation on its head, with supply catching up just as demand has dwindled. Shortage has turned to surplus as masks are a dime a dozen, and they can't give away a bottle of sanitizer of any brand.

So what do you do with all those extra face coverings? There are warnings of needing them for a future pandemic, but until that comes to pass, they are just taking up so much space. Suggestions range from emergency coffee filters to a pickle jar opener. Keep one in the car as a dipstick rag to check your oil. They make dandy potholders and eye shades. If you're a beard wearer, they might come in handy when having soup. And your favorite pet hamster might enjoy a hammock.

As for all those bottles of denatured alcohol and fragrance, suggestions abound. It works well polishing the silver or your eyeglasses. It's good for removing a sticky label and its residue, likewise it makes the removal of band aids ouchless. You can use it as a deodorant or as dry shampoo. And you can flip the equation, and use it to clean not the touchers but the touchee, the screen of your phone.

Now if we could only figure out a use for all those six-foot rulers.

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford has a basket of masks on his shelf. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Unskilled

The universe of things we can do that were formerly just Jetson-esque dreams is constantly expanding. There are the big ticket items enabled by progress in every field: we can a send a helicopter to Mars, communicate from anywhere on the planet, and repair defects in our hearts and other vital organs. On a more personal level we can fall asleep on a plane in New York and wake up in Tokyo, carry telephones in our pockets, and navigate anywhere using satellites. Not only would your great great great grandparents have been amazed, but just as likely your own mom and dad are still trying to figure how it all works. 

That's not to say that all progress is of the earth-shattering variety. While they may be based on underlying advances which are indeed amazing, the more pedestrian results are equally impressive. We can watch movies from the comfort of our own homes, freeze leftover spaghetti sauce so it can be used months later, and order lightbulbs tonight and have them delivered tomorrow. Even if those advances don't carry the same gravitas as discovering the origins of the universe, it's progress that's impressive none the less. 

As part of this relentless march forward we've developed skills which would have completely baffled our forefathers and mothers. Whether it's using an escalator, driving a car or ordering takeout, they would have looked at many of the things we do effortlessly as if they were black magic. Just think about trying to explain a mouse to someone from the 1700's: "Well, yes, it's called a mouse, but it's not alive. You use it to move the cursor. A cursor? Well, it's the pointer that shows where you are on the screen. A screen? Well, it's a piece of glass that shows what the computer is doing. A computer?" You get the idea. 

On top of those are the essential abilities we have all cultivated as necessary talents to live in the modern world. We can opine as experts on political and social policies of which we have only the barest real knowledge, mostly gleaned from headlines and Twitter postings. We can monitor and interact with 37 simultaneous chats, emails, Instagram postings and Twitter feeds, never letting any one get beyond a 4 minute non-engagement window. And we can drive at 70 miles an hour and check our email while keeping in our lane. Sometimes.

Then there's this last year. Say what you about the hardships it created, but it has forced us all to retrench. If not quite pioneer mode, we have learned to be a little more self sufficient in areas we formerly were not. You might have been able to do a little cooking in the past, with your usual MO being to order delivery or pick up food on the way home. But over the past 12 months you were forced to go into full blown chef mode, learning to cater for a picky crowd, juggling multiple dishes and substituting chicken for pork when supplies run thin. Likewise, with gyms off limits you've had to manage your own workout, whether than meant DIY dumbbells made of sand-filled milk jugs or endless walks around the block. And let's not even to begin to discuss tech support. Sixteen months ago if your computer didn't work you just shut it off and turned it back on, or waited until one of the kids came home. Now you can troubleshoot a Zoom call with the best of them.

That said, there are still lots of things that we can’t do, or more correctly, can do  but haven’t yet needed to figure out. Likely there's not one among those of us reading this that can shoe a horse. Need to get from here to there? You certainly know how to use your GPS, but if I handed you a sextant and said you had to find your way by the stars you would likely just get lost. And it's unlikely you can pluck a chicken, darn your socks or tie a sheepshank knot to shorten a rope. 

So to summarize: you can record a Tik Tok video, but not milk a cow. In today's world, that all makes sense. But if that cyber hurricane we keep hearing inklings about does indeed come to pass, relearning some sewing skills now might just come in handy.

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford has learned how to make bread. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Rank This

"What to choose, what to choose." You mutter it under your breath whether you're looking at a menu, scanning an Amazon listing or staring at the board at an ice cream stand. The options can be dizzying, and guidance can be scarce. Sure, you can ask waiters their favorites, read reviews online or see what is dripping down the cones of those around you. But it's all anecdotal and subjective at best. The waiter may simply not like crab cakes, the maker of the bread knife may be paying for the reviews, and the five-year old may simply like the way the sprinkles look on her vanilla cone.

It comes down to the fact there is no accounting for taste. And so if you want to know what's "the best" you would do better to look at more concrete evidence. If a preponderance of people rank something higher either by watching, buying or visiting it more often than any other, there's at least a reasonable chance you won't be disappointed. Likewise, if a wide swath of humanity marks it at the lower end of the spectrum, you might do well to look elsewhere. After all, you might be a fan of Antonio Banderas and Lucy Liu and are willing to give "Ballistic" a chance. But when you see that Rotten Tomatoes gives it a ranking of 0% and a critical consensus of "a startlingly inept film, it offers overblown, wall-to-wall action without a hint of wit, coherence, style, or originality" it's probably best if you delete it from your Netflix queue.

It used to be the only place to get unbiased viewpoints was Consumer Reports, with its monthly articles like "Dishwasher Buying Guide" and "Best Memorial Day Grills." More recently you almost need to rank the rankers, as the universe has expanded exponentially with both legit and questionable players. Taking on the roll of elder statesman are supposedly neutral third parties, such as Wirecutter for tech or US News and World Reports for colleges and universities. Like CR, these are organizations that have professional reviewers who create metrics that assign weightings to different factors, then tally them up and output the results. Other places crowdsource the input, like Yelp and Expedia, and rank the "Best Mexican" or "Top Beach Destination" based on input from the subset that uses the site. And still others create rankings out of cocktail conversation. Ranker.com has the top quarterback of all time as Tom Brady, and Queens's Freddie Mercury as the best singer. Arguable, perhaps, but they also have Hillary Duff listed as the number one celebrity you could actually meet on Tinder, and the Bible ranked as the number one book you will never finish reading. 

Those last two illustrate the point that, just as media has fractured and caters to very niche audiences, so do rankings. You don't need a big sample or a universal topic to create a list. With data being so available on the cheap its easier than ever to create a tabulation that is specific. Take the latest ad from the History Channel. A well-respected purveyor of historical documentaries and other fare, it took out a full page announcement in the paper touting it being at the top of its specific universe. As the banner headline reads, "the HIGHEST RANKED factual entertainment TV brand." I'm not arguing with that, and nice achievement. But what was the sample size and the competition? That's like Guy Fieri boasting he hosts the "HIGHEST RANKED Show about Diners, Drive Ins and Dives." 

Still, it helps to know the track record when you go looking on where to spend your capital, whether it be tabulated in dollars or minutes. And with the History Channel claiming the top spot, you can work on the basis that their default is going to be quality real world stuff. And so if you watch their show "Enola Gay: Rain of Ruin," a doc on the famous plane that dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima, you know from the marks bestowed on the carrier that you're probably going to be informed and entertained. On the other hand, if you turn to Hulu for director David Farrier's 2016 about the strange world of competitive endurance tickling entitled, what else, "Tickled," you can't purport be surprised if you're not.

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford writes the NUMBER ONE column that appears in this space. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.