Pat Taub
GUEST POST by BARBARA BENGELS
Do you remember what you were doing (or planning to do) when Covid shut down the world as we knew it? Were you teaching a class, standing in line at the supermarket, planning on seeing a play? Those were my plans; they’re still undone. How do we respond when taken-for-granted opportunities vanish?
Well, if we’ve lived long enough we have a list of other “lasts” in our lives, most even going by unnoticed at the time. No, I’m not going to get maudlin, not referring to the Final Goodbye when a dear one departs—or even the uneasy feeling when people we love walk out the door: will we ever see them again, life being so very tenuous?
What I am thinking about now are the everyday things that we do—and suddenly realize that we don’t—or can’t—do anymore. Ironing! I can‘t remember the last time I ironed anything—and though I never hated it, I surely don’t miss it. When was the last time I shimmied into a girdle? Whoa! Maybe I need to resurrect one of those! Curlers? Nah! High heels? Not at my age. Do I miss any of those things? A resounding no!
The author is not missing wearing high heels!
However, there are things I wish I had realized I was doing for the last time while I was actually doing them. I used to love biking, for example. My childhood was spent on a red and blue secondhand bike I lovingly named Pinto (for the pony I would never have.) My adult bike never had the same appeal—and honestly, my backside was never quite as comfortable on it. No more biking, no more skating, no more bowling—all youthful pleasures.
A red bicycle which evokes the author’s childhood bike
They’re all just too dangerous now, thanks both to Covid or my aging body. Other fears also constrain my life. Travelling was always one of my greatest pleasures. Yes, I was nervous when we drove throughout Turkey not knowing a word of the language—but my intrepid husband gave me the courage to go and it was the trip of a lifetime. Now thanks to Covid we go nowhere—but at least I have wonderful memories of the places we have visited. Sadly, there are just so many things I might never do again and didn’t appreciate enough when I last did them.
The author and her husband on a pre-Covid trip to New England
At the end of Act III, Thornton Wilder’s OUR TOWN has some key lines that deeply resonate with me. Emily asks, “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it, every, every minute?”
I’d like to think I will soak up the beauty as I watch the tulips bloom this Spring, enjoy every plunge into the local pool this summer (if and when it opens), and savor every experience as though it might never come again.
I’ll enjoy the beauty of the Fall watching my five year old grandson Louie pile up leaves into a mammoth mountain before jumping into it with wild abandon—even if I can only see it on Zoom. I’ll watch the world turn fresh and magical through his eyes, relishing his “firsts” together, ever so grateful for the technology that allows us to continue being together even when we’re not.
Louie, the author’s grandson
Barbara Bengels is a full professor at Hofstra University in NY where she has taught literature and composition from 1968 to the present. She has published academic articles on writers as diverse as Jonathan Swift, Henry James, and H.G. Wells, as well as newspaper articles about mothering her four ( wonderful!) daughters. A favorite project was interviewing over fifty science fiction authors about their childhood. Her most prized award was granted by the NY State Teachers’ Union, shared with her husband, in recognition of their service to children and teachers in public schools.
