I went out to pick up some groceries this afternoon, and I can’t remember being shaken by such a banal task. I had not been outside our neighborhood on College Avenue, a normally bustling main street with great restaurants, coffee and boutique shops as well as a Safeway and other essential services all within a colorful block, this whole week.
College Avenue is usually congested with cars, buses, bicyclists, pedestrians, passerbys, shoppers, panhandlers, homeless, people of all age, colors and creed. When I turned the corner today, though, I was struck by the eerie quiet of closed shops, practically empty streets, and long line around the corner outside of Safeway across the street.
From the side where I was standing, I noticed that the French bakery where we usually get fresh baguette and morning buns is closed. It was just open a few days ago, so I’m perplexed as to why it’s closed now. Bread and pastries are essentials, I would think.
There was a line of 5-8 people about 6 ft/2 m outside the butcher shop, which also serves as a fishmonger with its offering of seafood. I picked up some halibut and bratwursts, then headed to the mom-and-pop grocery store a few doors over for milk and produce.
My sense is that people on the street, many of whom were wearing face masks, were somber and the air was tense. The atmosphere on this otherwise busy and spirited street was foreboding. I hurried home with an unsettling feeling and have been bothered by it since.
The first thing I did after I got into the kitchen, put the groceries down, and took off my shoes is washed my hands. Then I unpacked and disinfected packaging of items, washed produced, disinfected doorknobs, my phone and earplugs, the credit card I used, the doorknobs, laid the cloth bag in the sun, disinfected my jacket, and then finally washed my hands again.
This has been my cleaning and disinfecting routine once I return from grocery shopping. I have done it a handful of times in the past three weeks, and basically try to avoid having to go out beyond our backyard other than to jog.
Mostly I am cognizant that this is temporary and will pass. We’re all trying to do our part, and for the most part Martin and I feel fortunate about our situation and adhere best we can. Nevertheless, today’s brief encounter with the realities of this crisis and its repercussions, which we have yet to see the extent of, did rattle me some.
Unless absolutely necessary, I’m staying off the streets until this all blows over, which will hopefully be sooner than later. That’s me and you and the rest of the world, so at least we have that in common.
We also have the weekend. Since we’re staying off the streets, it’s a good place to check out other streets from the safety of home. If you’ve never seen it, then definitely watch Mean Streets. If you have, then it’s always a good time to revisit any of Martin Scorsese’s work. But Martin Scorsese and his films warrant its own blog, entire film courses, festivals, and screenings, etc.
Although it’s a cinematic masterpiece, it’s not exactly comforting. I’m just cautioning that it may be a bit much, especially if you’re like me right now and need warm and fuzzy and clarity, then maybe just listen to Vic Damone croon about being On the Street Where You Live.
I loved listening to this stuff growing up here in the Bay Area where I had the radio tuned in to KFRC “Magic 61” AM. They played top 40 hits from the 1950s and 1960s.
If the world in this strange state right now is just too much, then Sesame Street is one street that never disappoints, especially Cookie Monster. Ok, a monster that is all about cookies: This guy is straight talk, and in weird times it’s all the more gotta have. Cookies for sure, monster maybe not. Have some milk and cookies and a sweet weekend staying safe at home.