Saturday, the calendar alert on my phone goes off. Weird! What’s up with that?
My niece Caitlin helped me learn how to do the phone calendar last year, and it’s been great for scheduling things when you’re out and about.
“Ida, can you come and give a talk down to the Moose Lodge on June 21?”
“Let me check my phone and see!”
But truth be told, once we started sheltering in place, I went right back to using my paper calendar. It’s always at hand and when I’m not on the front lines down to the A&P, I’m home, so it works out good.
Right now, the only reminder alert I have on my phone is one that tells me to stop trying to squeeze in another chore and get over to my real work, cashiering. I usually talk back to the phone, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Time to leave. I’m going
, I’m going,” and I step it up a notch. I touch up my lipstick and snag my purse off the doorknob. “Keys, phone, to do list, good.” Then, I give Scamp a little pat on the head and say what I always say, “You be a good boy. I’ll be right back. You be a good boy.” (Whenever I’m talking to the dog, I always repeat everything twice, like somehow that will make him understand better. Do you do that?) Then I slam out of the house, into the car, and skedaddle, always putting my seat belt on, one-handed, as I drive down my street. (Please don’t try doing this yourself ‘cause it’s an advanced maneuver.)
But it’s Saturday and I don’t have to work, so I’m curious about that alert. I walk to the kitchen counter, pick up my phone, and see the message, “Traffic is light. If you leave now, it will take you 55 minutes.” Meaning, if you leave for the theater now, you won’t be late for your show. Ah, a reminder of my other life, the one I had scheduled before the world turned upside down. I thought I had erased all those events, those commitments and get-togethers, but that was back in March, when I thought for sure things will be back to normal by May.
My heart aches a little as I delete that show from my phone, and a little more as I look ahead and pull the plug on a couple of book readings, too. You know what? I miss making people laugh
. I miss helping them feel better, you know? Like after 9/11, and again after that big mess in 2008. People just wanted to sit together and get cheered up. And I found that I could, in my small way, be of service.
“Snap out of it, Ida!” I say out loud, startling Scamp. “It looks like we’re in for the long haul with this thing, so you gotta just go with it or you’ll just be miserable.” Sometimes you just have to give yourself a talking to.
I put my phone down, take a deep breath, and begin again. I step out on the deck and take in the sunshine, the smell of Charlie’s new mown grass, the daffodils and our cherry tree starting to bloom. I drink in the springtime and think about how lucky I am up here in Mahoosuc Mills. And with that, I relax. I surrender, once again, to what is. I even start getting a little curious to see what’s next. What kind of unexpected gifts are waiting for me in this new other life.
That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!
Hear Ida Tell It: My Other Life
Video of the Week: One of my book trailers for “The Sweet Life”