Essays from the Edge of the World: COVID 19 in Seattle, Part 4 The Last Normal Day
Edgar grew up outdoors. His family sat squarely in that part of the blue-collar working class that opted for camping trips over exotic destination trips. Opted, is probably not the right word, relegated to is probably closer to accurate.
Also, Edgar’s family belonged to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If that name doesn’t ring a bell, you definitely know their more colloquial name, Mormon. Edgar recalled reading something recently that Mormon was no longer a preferred name, but considering he hadn’t gone to church since he was about twelve, he wasn’t exactly up on the current lingo. In fact, he’d actually sent an official request a while back to church headquarters to be taken of any member lists. His departure from the religion did nothing to change his genes however. When Edgar sent his DNA test to ancestry.com, it showed he was part of the Mountain West Mormon Pioneers group. Before that, he’d never considered that he may be ethnically Mormon, or that Mormon was an ethnicity at all, but here was an entire gene group, from which he was descended, roaming west across the bulk of the United States. It sounded like an ethnic group to him. It goes without saying that Edgar was a Cub Scout, and later a Boy Scout, as these organizations are closely associated with the Mormon religion. As a result, his bourgeois colleagues marveled at his prowess with a wrenches, rifles, and fishing rods.
To most urban professionals the ability to turn a wrench in order to fix a mechanical device was magic. The ability to catch, kill, and consume an animal was mesmerizing. That said, Edgar tried hard not to showcase his ability to rebuild a motor, or survive indefinitely in the wilderness. Edgar had great survival skills because he was outside most of his childhood. He had great mechanical skills because he’d owned numerous unreliable automobiles when he was younger; automobiles he never had enough money to pay a mechanic to fix. These skills were useful when they were called for, which, these days, was almost never, and they certainly differentiated him from his colleagues. Edgar liked watching more than being watched, so he turned the volume way down on these stereotypical blue-collar skills when he was around other attorneys. Besides, Edgar genuinely disliked being outside, so rarely felt a desire to talk about them. On one camping trip, while he was rolling up a soggy sleeping bag, and packing up a mildewed tent, he promised himself when he was grown, he’d never camp again, unless it was for actual survival.
Although he vowed not to force the outdoors on his sons, his sons found the outdoors on their own. Specifically, little Edgar, who was twelve, and wanted to go on a class camping trip the first week of March. For several weeks, Edgar attempted to rope Audrey into doing the chaperone duties on the trip, but Audrey hated camping more than Edgar, and had none of the outdoor skills that made trips like these tolerable. Edgar finally conceded that, being a good father, in this circumstance, required that he go camping for a few days. The camping itself would be bad enough, but the real inconvenience was that he would miss television coverage of super Tuesday. Edgar watched election season, the way his brother and stepdad watched football, and super Tuesday was like the beginning of the playoffs.
Edgar arrived at the Islandwood facility on Bainbridge Island around lunch time on that first Monday in March, courtesy of the largest ferry system in the United States, fourth largest in the world. Both Edgars stood on the upper forward deck of the Tacoma. From there, the Puget Sound Islands just look like one land mass covered by thick forest. In reality, Puget Sound is comprised of about 170 separate islands, and the Puget Sound, inside the Salish Sea, is a main artery in the anatomy of global commerce. At nearly a thousand feet deep, it’s about as deep as the tallest building in Seattle is high. A steady drumbeat of the largest container ships in the world float through Elliot Bay, and to the Port of Seattle day and night, but that was the view from the rear deck of the ferry.
Bainbridge is the closest island to Seattle, as such, this was probably the busiest commuter route in the ferry system. You can actually see the Seattle skyline quite clearly from the Bainbridge coast. Edgar liked being able to see Seattle, probably because Edgar didn’t even like leaving Seattle. Shit, he didn’t even like leaving his Capitol Hill neighborhood to go to his downtown office to pick up his work mail.
Islandwood is actually a school in the forest. It hosts school groups, and corporate team building retreats. It runs a four-day program that has city kids doing outdoor activities from the crack of dawn until lights out, which meant chaperones would be doing outdoor activities from the crack of dawn until lights out. Little Edgar could not be more excited, big Edger could not stop thinking about how the one thing he liked less than camping was waking up early in the morning. Edgar was expecting Spartan accommodations, but was pleasantly surprised by more of a glamping situation at Islandwood. Very comfortable lodges, canteen with a large kitchen, all which softened the blow of being in the woods for four days.
Within two hours of arrival, little Edgar’s excitement overcame his biology, and he vomited all over the grass outside of the canteen. On March 2, 2020, a kid vomiting at a camp only warranted a temperature check by the Islandwood nurse, before being cleared to stay in a lodge room with five other kids. In fact, another chaperone, the mother of one of the other kids who was bunking in little Edgar’s room, encouraged big Edgar to allow little Edgar to stay at the camp, and sleep in the same room with her own son. That is a normal reaction to a kid vomiting at a school camp.
On Tuesday, Islandwood staff checked Edgar’s temperature again. Again, he had no fever, and that was that. Audrey called to say goodnight. She proudly told big Edgar all about the toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and non-perishable foods she’d accumulated over the last day, in anticipation of possible stay at home orders. Also, Super Tuesday proceeded as it had in every other election cycle for decades. Edgar typically would have been glued to his television screen all night. That day, he sat in front of his phone, listening to his CNN streaming app for about an hour before passing out in his bunk. Waking up early was not normal; camping in the woods was not normal; his wife stockpiling toilet paper was not normal. Despite numerous abnormal things happening that day, it was, in Edgar’s opinion, the last normal day on planet Earth for some time to come.
Also, Edgar’s family belonged to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If that name doesn’t ring a bell, you definitely know their more colloquial name, Mormon. Edgar recalled reading something recently that Mormon was no longer a preferred name, but considering he hadn’t gone to church since he was about twelve, he wasn’t exactly up on the current lingo. In fact, he’d actually sent an official request a while back to church headquarters to be taken of any member lists. His departure from the religion did nothing to change his genes however. When Edgar sent his DNA test to ancestry.com, it showed he was part of the Mountain West Mormon Pioneers group. Before that, he’d never considered that he may be ethnically Mormon, or that Mormon was an ethnicity at all, but here was an entire gene group, from which he was descended, roaming west across the bulk of the United States. It sounded like an ethnic group to him. It goes without saying that Edgar was a Cub Scout, and later a Boy Scout, as these organizations are closely associated with the Mormon religion. As a result, his bourgeois colleagues marveled at his prowess with a wrenches, rifles, and fishing rods.
To most urban professionals the ability to turn a wrench in order to fix a mechanical device was magic. The ability to catch, kill, and consume an animal was mesmerizing. That said, Edgar tried hard not to showcase his ability to rebuild a motor, or survive indefinitely in the wilderness. Edgar had great survival skills because he was outside most of his childhood. He had great mechanical skills because he’d owned numerous unreliable automobiles when he was younger; automobiles he never had enough money to pay a mechanic to fix. These skills were useful when they were called for, which, these days, was almost never, and they certainly differentiated him from his colleagues. Edgar liked watching more than being watched, so he turned the volume way down on these stereotypical blue-collar skills when he was around other attorneys. Besides, Edgar genuinely disliked being outside, so rarely felt a desire to talk about them. On one camping trip, while he was rolling up a soggy sleeping bag, and packing up a mildewed tent, he promised himself when he was grown, he’d never camp again, unless it was for actual survival.
Although he vowed not to force the outdoors on his sons, his sons found the outdoors on their own. Specifically, little Edgar, who was twelve, and wanted to go on a class camping trip the first week of March. For several weeks, Edgar attempted to rope Audrey into doing the chaperone duties on the trip, but Audrey hated camping more than Edgar, and had none of the outdoor skills that made trips like these tolerable. Edgar finally conceded that, being a good father, in this circumstance, required that he go camping for a few days. The camping itself would be bad enough, but the real inconvenience was that he would miss television coverage of super Tuesday. Edgar watched election season, the way his brother and stepdad watched football, and super Tuesday was like the beginning of the playoffs.
Edgar arrived at the Islandwood facility on Bainbridge Island around lunch time on that first Monday in March, courtesy of the largest ferry system in the United States, fourth largest in the world. Both Edgars stood on the upper forward deck of the Tacoma. From there, the Puget Sound Islands just look like one land mass covered by thick forest. In reality, Puget Sound is comprised of about 170 separate islands, and the Puget Sound, inside the Salish Sea, is a main artery in the anatomy of global commerce. At nearly a thousand feet deep, it’s about as deep as the tallest building in Seattle is high. A steady drumbeat of the largest container ships in the world float through Elliot Bay, and to the Port of Seattle day and night, but that was the view from the rear deck of the ferry.
Bainbridge is the closest island to Seattle, as such, this was probably the busiest commuter route in the ferry system. You can actually see the Seattle skyline quite clearly from the Bainbridge coast. Edgar liked being able to see Seattle, probably because Edgar didn’t even like leaving Seattle. Shit, he didn’t even like leaving his Capitol Hill neighborhood to go to his downtown office to pick up his work mail.
Islandwood is actually a school in the forest. It hosts school groups, and corporate team building retreats. It runs a four-day program that has city kids doing outdoor activities from the crack of dawn until lights out, which meant chaperones would be doing outdoor activities from the crack of dawn until lights out. Little Edgar could not be more excited, big Edger could not stop thinking about how the one thing he liked less than camping was waking up early in the morning. Edgar was expecting Spartan accommodations, but was pleasantly surprised by more of a glamping situation at Islandwood. Very comfortable lodges, canteen with a large kitchen, all which softened the blow of being in the woods for four days.
Within two hours of arrival, little Edgar’s excitement overcame his biology, and he vomited all over the grass outside of the canteen. On March 2, 2020, a kid vomiting at a camp only warranted a temperature check by the Islandwood nurse, before being cleared to stay in a lodge room with five other kids. In fact, another chaperone, the mother of one of the other kids who was bunking in little Edgar’s room, encouraged big Edgar to allow little Edgar to stay at the camp, and sleep in the same room with her own son. That is a normal reaction to a kid vomiting at a school camp.
On Tuesday, Islandwood staff checked Edgar’s temperature again. Again, he had no fever, and that was that. Audrey called to say goodnight. She proudly told big Edgar all about the toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and non-perishable foods she’d accumulated over the last day, in anticipation of possible stay at home orders. Also, Super Tuesday proceeded as it had in every other election cycle for decades. Edgar typically would have been glued to his television screen all night. That day, he sat in front of his phone, listening to his CNN streaming app for about an hour before passing out in his bunk. Waking up early was not normal; camping in the woods was not normal; his wife stockpiling toilet paper was not normal. Despite numerous abnormal things happening that day, it was, in Edgar’s opinion, the last normal day on planet Earth for some time to come.
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