Gemini in Lockdown

“One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love.” -- Sophocles

I looked around the barren cavern that served as my prison cell and locked eyes with an emaciated woman in a ragged jumpsuit.

I had no idea why I had been locked up in this rocky mountain hellhole, but being Catholic I figured I was probably guilty.

I had only one question for my fellow inmate.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked.

The woman smiled weakly and pointed to a battered stool with a hole in it.

And then I woke up.

I turned 63 years old today and the very first thing I want to say is “Thank God.”

I don’t like being this old, but I really like being here, seeing that we’re in the middle of a pandemic right now and the United States has lost nearly 100,000 people.

That dream I had late last week is hardly surprising in light of the self-quarantine and social-distancing measures we're taking in response to the cornhole-a-virus that’s been ravaging our lives since March.

Since we are all the characters in our dreams, I suspect that gaunt woman sharing my cell was my subconscious mind’s impression of me post-lockdown—a kind of twisted “After” image compared with Me B.C.—Before Covid-19.

Last night’s movie selection probably wasn’t the best choice either.

I watched The Omega Man, a 1971 cheeseball sci-fi flick where the world’s population has been pretty much wiped out by a man-made plague—oy!—leaving Charlton Heston to take on a brood of colorless ghouls who are seeking to punch Moses’ ticket.

This is one of three film versions of Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend, and I watched it largely because I wanted to see how director Boris Sagal had handled the material.

I loved Sagal’s work on Peter Gunn, but there was little evidence of his keen eye in this flick.

'Sunday I Always Dress for Dinner'

Normally on my birthday I’d go to the theater with my beloved sister and auntie, after which we’d head to one of our favorite restaurants, to eat, drink Prosecco, and be quite merry.

I’ve grown to love theater so much over years, and I miss it something fierce—along with thousands of other people, including the ones who depend upon it as a source of income.

On a more personal note—it is my birthday, after all--I recently wrote my first full-length play and I was planning to submit it to theaters in the very near future. But then the curtain came down on that plan.

I whined to Rosemary, my writing instructor, about my fears that theater will disappear forever.

“Let's think back on Sophocles,” she said in an email, referring to the ancient Greek tragedian who gave us Oedipus Rex. “Several (UNDERSTATEMENT) pandemics, wars, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions.”

Wow, in light of all that misery, it's a miracle Sophocles didn't quit writing and become an accountant.

Today is also my late grandmother’s birthday. She was an amazingly strong woman who sailed to this country from Italy with her daughter in the early 20th Century to reunite with my grandfather in Brooklyn.

They arrived in the U.s. one year after the start of the 1918 Influenza Pandemic that would eventually kill 3-5% of the world's population.

My Uncle Joe told me today that my paternal grandfather was actually a victim of the flu and that he supposedly became so delirious with fever that he threatened to jump off the roof of his apartment building. Grandpa would later deny this story.

Whatever happened, my relatives did survive that terrible outbreak, so we can take some comfort in that knowledge. This plague will end at some point and scientists will develop a vaccine.

Today I received dozens of birthday messages from friends and family both online and on the phone. This love and support takes on a whole new meaning given these dangerous times.

And I have nice bathroom, too.