…to my already pandemic battered psyche.

It all started a week ago Sunday.  Garv and I decided to go for a drive just to get out of the house and have a change of scene.  About an hour into our drive I realized it wasn’t just a drive. We were on a “Sunday drive,” the kind old people take.   

My grandparents were big fans of Sunday drives.  My grandmother would wear her navy wool pill box hat complete with hat pin.  My grandfather usually wore his houndstooth suit jacket, felt fedora and a splash of Old Spice.  Off they would go in their Nash Rambler going nowhere in particular, looking stylish.  Proper.  Civilized. 

I glanced at Garv.  He was not wearing a fedora but his hair was having a party!  (Picture Doc from the movie Back to the Future…that kind of party.)  Equally pulled together, I was sporting slippers and no pants.  Well, I was kind of wearing pants, leggings actually.  But it’s no secret that leggings are just well marketed long underwear.  Obviously we lacked my grandparents’ sense of flair and refinement.   

We blew past a sign and I’m certain it read, “Oldageopolis City Limits.”  I said, “Garv, we are officially old.”  Ironically, he did not hear me. 

On Monday I was curious to see what my life looked like pre-pandemic, before old people Sunday drives.  I sat at the computer and pulled up pictures from January and February of 2020.  I was gobsmacked by how young we looked.  I double checked to see if I had opened the 2010 folder by mistake.  Nope, I was looking at 2020, a mere 730 days ago! 

Scientific studies are likely underway to determine the impact the past two years have had on our bodies and mental health.  I already know the results.  Worldwide the average human will have aged 4.7 years for every year of the pandemic.  I base this on my photos because it appears I have aged, at a minimum, 9.4 years since the beginning of 2020.  Superhero humans like front line workers will have aged 8.3 years per year.   Covid stress is real. 

On Tuesday I discovered that on the premiere run of The Golden Girls the entire cast was younger than I am today.   Enough said.

On Wednesday I was paper shamed.  I posted a question on our street’s social media page asking if anyone was missing their New York Times Sunday delivery.  I was skipped 3 weeks in a row.  Several of my Millennial neighbors replied teasingly asking if I was aware that I could read the paper on my phone or computer.  They asked if I needed help setting it up on my tablet. 

Kids, kids, kids!  The Sunday New York Times should be read on paper, hence the name “newspaper.”  Reading it on a screen is like viewing the Grand Canyon through a toilet paper tube.   You miss the full experience, the broader perspective.  You miss the feel of the paper fibers, the ink on your elbows from leaning against a full page spread.  You miss the sound when you snap it open or turn the pages.  Sheesh, who raised these kids?

On Thursday a Target cashier exclaimed, “Gosh, you are the first person to request cash back, in like, forever!”  I guess it’s an old age thing to carry cash? 

Friday night I had sleep issues so I turned on the TV.  Dan Aykroyd and Bill Murray were on Late Night.  I watched Aykroyd’s feeble, and I do mean feeble, attempt to reprise his Elwood Blues dance moves.  It was cringe worthy.  I am hoping he and Murray enjoyed some edibles prior to airtime and he was just really high.  When you see beloved Icons aging badly you can’t help but feel old as well. 

On Saturday, I became bored with myself.  I had to stop ruminating about old age.  Perhaps tackling the topic of crypto-currency would help?  Not to brag but I was a Macroeconomics whiz in college.  All this confusion over crypto wallets, altcoins and Bitcoin is just basic finance, right?  I know my way around simple programming and a database.  I was confident I could learn about blockchains and mining.  I spent most of Saturday Googling in and out of crypto rabbit holes.

I could share what I learned but I only know enough to be dangerous.  Frankly, I’m on the fence about this new form of “money.”  I think cryptocurrency is either the most brilliant form of finance ever or the most hilarious smoke and mirrors scam in the history of mankind.

I am also on the fence as to whether or not I will take a deep dive and learn more.  I think the subject is both equally fascinating and a waste of my time.  I know in my heart of hearts I could master the subject and maybe that’s all I needed from this exercise…to know my brain synapses are still firing at my college coed pace.

I think about my grandparents who passed in the late 1970’s.  They never owned a cell phone.  They never posed a question to Alexa or paid for my ice cream cone(s) with a debit card.  But they were always present and youthful in spirit.  They spent their last decades perfecting what they had done throughout their lives.  They read good books, including the Good Book.  They loved on their friends and family lavishly and unconditionally.  Whenever possible they were of service to others.  And they always dressed for Sunday drives. 

Tomorrow is Sunday.  I think I will turn off my computer, put on some real pants and maybe, just maybe, take a little drive. 

What’s a boomer to do?  Hang in there.  The “pandamnit” will be in our rear view mirrors very soon.