Jan. 12, 2020

My Dearest Timothy

Happy Birthday, old pal of mine! It’s me! You! Writing from the end of April 2020. Don’t ask how. Time-shifting is hard to explain. Let’s just say it’s the result of a laboratory experiment gone horribly wrong.

You’re 65 now. Who’d’a thunk it, as we codgers say. I know you’re probably employing that last refuge of the newly aged, that age is just a number, and 65 is certainly that, and it will soon be one that will result in your having to go into a lengthy period of isolation. Just because of a number.

And you’re probably hesitant to take advice from your own self a scant three months in the future, but I’m going to offer it anyway, even though I know you well enough to realize that when someone gives you advice you usually do the opposite. I never quite understood that about you. Good people generally give advice in good faith, so why look askance at it?

When you read this, you’re going to think I’ve been hitting the bottle too hard, and maybe I have. You won’t be so quick to judge when you get to be my age in just three months.

Here, though, pointless as it may be, are a few suggestions, and before you dismiss them, please realize that I know what I’m talking about this time. It’s not like the other times.

The virus that’s been spreading like crazy in China? You probably only skimmed the news articles so far because, well, China. You’ve got enough to worry about right here in town. You don’t even know the name of the virus, but it’s going to turn into a serious pandemic, and you know that means worldwide, right? And the US and California and Long Beach are part of that world. It’s everywhere now.

Since it’s your birthday today, you’re in San Clemente. Enjoy yourself, cherish the sunsets. Take your wife out to dinner, because, as apocalyptic and crazily alarmist as it sounds to you right now, in just two months all restaurants will be closed except for take-out orders. Most retail businesses, too, will be closed. It may not overly concern you right now, but hair salons and barber shops will be closed and everyone but a few “essential” workers will be advised to stay in their homes for safety sake, especially people your age (though not the age you were yesterday). Golf courses, parks, beaches. All closed. You’ve never seen anything remotely like this in what still seems to you like your sweet, short life.

Next month, the New York Times is going to publish an article about the “LA Hug,” because, the newspaper notes, everyone in LA hugs all the time. Well, the LA Hug is dead now, because now no one in the world is supposed to be within 6 feet of another person.

No, I won’t shut up! Listen, old pal, the life you’ve known for six and a half decades is over. Don’t believe me? They canceled Coachella. There was no Grand Prix. There are no more sports contests of any sort, save for a few that are played in empty arenas or stadiums. Theaters, churches, schools? All closed.

Is it under control where I’m at now? It is not. As of yesterday, the U.S. had 1.07 million confirmed cases, the most in the world with 61,700 deaths (Oh, yeah, Trump is still president.)  In Long Beach, there were 629 confirmed cases, with 36 dead.

People only talk face-to-face over the computer on FaceTime or Zoom or Skype. There are no hugs, no handshakes, no high-fives. We all wear masks now, wherever we go.

Your daughter will be OK, but her college classes are now conducted online only. You haven’t seen your son in weeks. Your wife is “essential,” so she’s gone all day but trying her best to stay safe. Your sister came down with a bad case of the virus (it’s called COVID-19, by the way, and in a few weeks it’s all you’re going to hear or read about), but, happily, she survived and is doing fine.

I promised advice, but I haven’t really given any other than a heads-up, which I know sounds unbelievable to you now as you stroll along the San Clemente pier. I’d tell you to buy stocks in companies that will profit from all of this, but what’s weird about this time-shifting thing is I already know that you didn’t. But do this: Buy toilet paper. Now.

In a couple of weeks, Gov. Gavin Newsom will recommend that people over 65 years of age stay isolated. It’s just a number, but it’s your number now. So in mid-March, you’ll be stuck at home with your daughter and your dogs. For how long, I don’t know. People are starting to get restless and some (you can probably guess what kind of people) are calling the pandemic and the societal restrictions put in place to curtail it, a hoax, a conspiracy, a loss of their freedom.

Have I made it clear enough that a historically dangerous time is coming your way in a few weeks?

Here’s some advice, and once again, I know you won’t heed it: Come up with a ton of ideas for a daily column about living while in isolation.

When it comes, I want you to be smart. I want you to stay healthy. I want you to continue to take care of your family and yourself. You’re the only me I’ve got.

Love,

Yourself, 109 days later