COVID-19 Screwed Up My Vacation
This was supposed to be my big week off, a vacation all my own to go where I wanted, see who I wanted, and do what I wanted. It’s the one non-holiday, non-inclement weather off-week I get a year that I can plan for. The Sunday after Thanksgiving is a given, but better paid professionals snatch up those premium slots at resorts, workshops, Air B&Bs, and adventures on one of the week-long celebrated holidays of the year.
This was the year to do something completely out of the ordinary and totally for fun. I’d promised myself. I’d saved for it. No one would be having babies. The meat birds would all be gone.
But damn you Corona Virus, because the Bethesda Arts Festival has been cancelled this year, market will be open on that weird date of the third Sunday in October when normally we’re closed. Some vendors love hanging out with their families that day, going to local fall festivals, sleeping in, catching up on projects that require several uninterrupted hours, and yes, escaping for a few days.
This year the stars were aligning for a real retreat until the pandemic threw a wrench in the works.
No cross-country skiing in the Tetons, no surf yoga camp for girls in Costa Rica, no weaving school in New Mexico, no visiting friends in California, Washington State, Maine, or Connecticut. Even a trip to the Azores was on the table. I seriously considered writing each choice on a piece of paper, pulling randomly out of a bag, and going with whatever fate decided.
Covid19 has already killed off John Prine at Wolf Trap, a local weaving workshop, a trip to New Hampshire for my sister’s 50th birthday, and Mom’s biennial quilt show. The last time anyone visited me on the farm was Christmas. I have neither attended nor entertained socially distanced cocktail hours or dinner parties. My last night out was Samson and Delilah at the National Opera a few nights before the rest of 2020 was canceled.
Just go ahead and take that Sunday off, I was advised.
But no.
I can’t do that when I know there are people who would be standing in line for access to local foods during these challenging times. And I’ve got to hand it to how amazingly supportive Central Farm Market patrons have been. I tried taking the week off after that first Sunday of panic buying in March only to wake up to a phone full of worried messages, most asking Are you OK? No matter how far in advance or how many times I announce I’ll be missing a market, someone always calls to see if I’m sick or broken down along the freeway. Despite the interruption, it still warms my heart how much customers and fellow vendors care.
From the start of the pandemic, I realized that the cancellation of all things didn’t mean I had to sit at home and twiddle my thumbs. In truth, my project and entertainment list is now longer as I’ve taken on an assortment of my own art projects, classes and events that would otherwise require traveling.
I’ve started taking weaving classes from instructors in California and Australia, studying Art History with professors from Ivy League schools and lessons in Bhangra dancing from a Punjabi who lives in the Canadian Yukon. Zoom isn’t so awful as it’s allowed me to attend annual meetings and memorial services without driving out of state. This weekend I’ll get to go to a Facebook Live wedding I may not have been able to attend in person. At this point, I haven’t sprung for a virtual wine or cheese tasting where everything is sent ahead of time, but I haven noticed the quality of my own culinary indulgences creeping upward—wild Alaskan Keta Ikura, joining a local hard cider club instead of occasionally picking up one or two bottles, and cooking over-the-top meals despite having no dining companions. Unfortunately, the frequency of these indulgences my waistline is also increasing, which is now being referred to as COVID 25.
There are bound to be countless more disappointments in the coming year. The silver lining--cancelations offer opportunities to try something new. Instead of wasting energy trying to recapture the lost, channel that same effort into that which you’ve always wanted to do. If you can’t come up with an idea, consider doing something nice for someone else. As a farmer, I can attest that we are at the mercy of the microbes. Playing by their rules is the only way we’re going to get through the pandemic.
Again, as a reminder, there will be a Bethesda market this Sunday due to the cancellation of the annual arts festival. With the increased flow of creativity thanks to COVID-19, maybe when the arts festival resumes, I’ll still trek down to the city, only this time as an artist instead of a farmer.