A Matter of Time

If you’re also feeling somehow jet lagged or just drained from the sudden and extraordinary changes in the world this past week, then no wonder. It’s a lot to get one’s head wrapped around and adjust to at the same time.

In brief spells of absorption, I’ve replayed the timeline. How did we get here, or rather how did it get to this point in which we’re all called upon to flatten the curve?

Towards the end of February we were skiing and hanging out with friends in Lake Tahoe. The topic of coronavirus came up, but it was largely in the context of China’s handling of the outbreak with lockdowns. The short conversation concluded with the assumption that measures imposed in China would never be possible in America, because any hint deemed a threat to civil liberties are not only anathema but would not be tolerated here.

Hardly a month later we’re into the second week of shelter in place in California, and much of the rest of the world is in quarantine. The urgency warranting these unprecedented measures, however, appears to have not yet registered in the collective consciousness here.

As the situation further escalates and we brace for full-blown outbreak, it’s easy to get caught up pondering what next and to what extent. I don’t know that there’s much to do but stay put and wait it out. Only time will tell.

In the meantime, we were able to break from containment this past weekend with diversions like Knives Out, a smart, funny and thoroughly enjoyable film with some of my favorite actors: Daniel Craig (nuff said), Jamie Lee Curtis (still scary), Toni Collette (love), Christopher Plummer (Fräulein, we’re talking about Baron von Trapp here). Martin sums it up best, “At first I thought it’s a classic murder mystery, then I thought it’s not, and in the end…” and “For two hours I didn’t think about corona.”

Not in the mood for murder mystery? How about Midnight in Paris, always a go-to for getting away: Comedy, romance, time travel, the Roaring Twenties in Paris – so much fun, like running into Dalí. Oui, Paris, je t’aime.

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