The Last Normal Day
It was Tuesday. The alarm on my phone was set an hour earlier than normal. I told myself that I had to get to work early. I knew that I would hit the snooze button three times. Once the not-so-subtle tones of the Doctor Who theme song rang for the fourth and final time, I knew any later and I would be late to work.
“Hey Google. It’s time to make the donuts,” I grumbled. My virtual assistant whirled to life. “Good Morning Professor.” Her sweet, monotone Australian accent informed me of the time, the weather and reminded me that I had a full schedule ahead of me.
As I brushed my teeth, she began reciting off my tasks for the day. Each mundane event improved with the dream that I was doing them somewhere far more exotic than in Ohio. “Prep Lecture & Tour. Meeting. Tour Group Arrives. Tear Down and Pack Materials. Improv Rehearsal.”
“I’m giving a lecture today. Need to look good.” I applied dollops of shaving cream to my face and retrieved my razor. I am normally bearded or mustached. This barren face was still a relatively new feature and I was still getting used to seeing that face reflected in the mirror.
Hot water cascaded from the shower head. Steam began to encompass my tiny bathroom as the news began its cycle of NPR, BBC, and an Ohio Affiliate. NPR provided an American perspective. BBC provided a global perspective and the Ohio Affiliate provided, well, as local of news as I was going to get. If a particular new story was heard on two broadcasts, if was something to take note of; if it appeared on all three, that was cause for concern.
I cannot recall what the news was that March morning. The news, without a doubt, would have included an update on the ongoing corona virus that had begun to become more and more widely distributed. I had been following that story since the BBC first started reporting on it the year prior. Somewhere within me, I always had a feeling that it was going to be bad. Bad would be an understatement in the end. I tried to warn others in early 2020 that this was something that we should probably be prepared for. However, as the country was watching another tragedy at the time; my concerns fell upon deafened ears.
As I began to put on my shoes, my sweet Australian assistant informed me that the traffic was less than desirable. “Damn. Too late now.” I gathered my laptop (ensuring that it still had the power point lecture on it first) and began my travels.
I stopped on the way to get a cheesy hash brown bagel with garden vegetable cream cheese, accompanied with a large, iced tea. The bagel was extraordinaire. Little pieces of golden hash brown arranged underneath a warm blanket of cheese topped the toasted bagel. The bagel was wonderful, but I came for the tea. A hollowed mountain filled with an ocean of cold brown caffeinated water peppered with floating chunks of ice.
I arrived at work, waived my key at the door and descended to my closet in the basement. On a normal day, that would have been the last time that I would have seen the sun. My office was a good walk from any form of natural light and even further away from any window that you could see out of. However, this day was different. Today, I was giving a lecture.
The day progressed as most days did. I answered a slew of emails and phone calls, which seem all to much like a distant memory now. The dance between bartering and humbugging. I was good at my job. “Oh, what’s my favorite show? Well, that would have to be (insert title of lowest selling show). Honestly, it is a hard call, but there is something truly special about (insert title of lowest selling show).”
However, if I liked the person on the other end of the line, a more honest approach could be performed. “If you asked me between those two, I would say that you’re better off picking (insert title of my actual favorite show). I know that I shouldn’t say this but it’s the best show that we’ve put out in a few years. What was that? Is it better than (insert title of truly awful show)? Oh God, yes! I apologize. I suppose that I shouldn’t be that honest. What date can I put you down for?”
Regardless of the asks, whether in email or phone, I ended each message with “Do you have any other questions that I can help answer for you?” I’ve asked that question so many times, that my fingers type that sentence in my sleep. As I typed, I watched the paperwork that needed to be done continue to grow upon my desk.
The tour group was early. Any time I gave a lecture for a retirement community I always knew to block out a solid forty minutes for their arrival. The groups would either arrive ridiculously early or fashionably late. One could never truly know, so all you could do was just wait. This day they were just five minutes early, a pleasant surprise.
I love giving lectures. It wasn’t until I became an adjunct professor at Capital University that I discovered that lectures were the style of teaching that I preferred. Educational, but with an opportunity for a flair of the dramatic. Make it fun, be invested in your subject and invite your students to want to learn beside you. When I was given an opportunity to teach at Capital, I wanted to make sure that my students received the best education that I could offer. However, that is a story for another day.
The tour and lecture went amazingly well. I had been fine tuning that particular lecture for the better part of two years. A hybrid of history and performance, a real wing dinger. At the conclusion of the lecture, the audience gave me a rousing applause. Applause from a theater filled with unmasked, elderly women from a retirement village.
If I had only known. If I had only known that this would be their last outing for over a year. If I had only known that this would be the last time that some of them would sit inside a theater. If I had only known, I would have tried to do something different. Be funnier? Faster? Even more engaging? If I had only…known.
I walked them to their bus, then went about cleaning and restoring the building to its natural state. The office day was nearly over by the time everything was in its place. Cleaning and restoring multiple floors of a building takes time, especially on your own.
I grabbed a quick dinner on the way to rehearsal. We improvised scenes, we discussed what we had done, and we departed. The rehearsal had been normal, a perfectly adequate use of a few hours. The only unusual thing about it would be the unknown realization that I would not see any of those individuals in person again for over a year.
March 10th, 2020 was my last normal day. Starting the next day, I would begin to get messages regarding cancellation policies relating to the virus, shutdowns, performances reschedules or outright cancellations. Life was about to change in a rather sizable way.
One year later, and I am still looking for my new normal. I know that I am not alone. There are millions of us searching for the same thing. I know that we will find it eventually; perhaps it will come tomorrow or the day after that.