Tag: Pandemic

  • What’s Left in My Closet

    I used to own a bunch of shirts. Like button down and dress shirts. When I went to an office daily, I liked dressing for work. I had a bunch of khaki pants, and sportscoats. Lots of ties, and shirts; white, blue, gray, navy, and I even had some patterned dress shirts for “casual” days. I liked dressing up for work because it was like I put on a costume, and I could play the “character” of employee. Then, when I would get home, I would change clothes into something casual – jeans and a t-shirt – which allowed me to relax and forget about the day. (Not that I always forgot about the day, but I was making an effort.) This really shouldn’t be surprising as I am a theatre guy, and I still view the world through a theatrical prism.

    Then the pandemic hit, and I stopped working. During one of the especially bad waves, when we were completely stuck inside, the wife and I decided that it was time to clear out and declutter the home. One of the tasks was to clean out the closet of clothes that we didn’t wear or didn’t fit. (I will fully admit that I put on Covid weight, and I am still trying to get it off.) So, on my end of the closet were all these dress shirts that had gathered dust on the shoulders, and didn’t fit. Out they went, and it felt good to get rid of a past life that I wasn’t particularly proud of.

    As time has moved forward, and I am in my new role as stay-at-home-dad/vagabond-rogue, my daily attire is very casual, but I do still enjoy a button down and flannel shirt. Yet, as I looked at my closet this morning, I noticed that I only really wear five shirts. That’s it; five. I just rotate these five, along with two sweatshirts – gray and blue. (I did hold on to all the sportscoats. I just might still become that dad at the playground, sitting on a bench, reading a book, all tweed’d out.) This is my existence, which is not to dissimilar from my attire in college, and that brings me to believe that I want to be comfortable more than anything.

    All my life’s a circle.

    (Can you believe that we are both here at the same time? Ah, the power of words! And if you think like me, then please be kind and give a like, share, or a comment. Even a follow would be the cat’s meow! Every little bit helps.)

  • Short Story Review: “The Complete” by Gabriel Smith

    (The short story “The Complete,” by Gabriel Smith appeared in Issue 6, of The Drift.)

    At the start of the pandemic, my wife was on one of those huge group chats with her friends, all attempting to use Zoom, and recreate some sense of normal human connection. This was probably April or May 2020. Most of my wife’s friends are in the creative fields; writers, actors, directors, poets. My wife told me later, that on one of those early calls, they all started discussing how they thought the pandemic was going to be portrayed in movies, TV, theatre, novels, and so on. Some thought it would usher in a new version of hyper-realism, another group thought it would be treated how 9/11 was. I don’t know, but since those early days, it feels like every couple of months, someone writes something asking, “How will the story of COVID be told?”

    Gabriel Smith’s story, “The Complete,” is the first work of fiction I have read that has tried to take a crack at it. I don’t think I could give a quick summary, or even a long one, for this story. It takes place in London, sort of. It’s about a writer, kind of. And COVID is happening. While the story doesn’t have a formal plot, it does have atmosphere, mood, and an almost tangible ethereal presence. Oh, and a real good sense of humor.

    Two main things struck me with the story. First, I felt like someone captured what my brain went through during the dark days of the pandemic. How my imagination would wander and drift, break things apart and put them back together. I had so much time to think about everything that had ever happened to me, and way too much time to think about the end of the world. Second, the whole piece worked in this wonderful staccato rhythm, with each section of the story coming in, then cutting to another part, then another cut. This method of storytelling wasn’t new to me, I have read other attempts of this style, and I was aware that at some point all of these tangents would tie together. But the fun wasn’t waiting to see if it came together; The fun was watching how it came together. Because I can see how someone might complain that this story is all style and no substance, yet I would argue, strongly, that the substance, the weight of this story, was in the style which captured a still undefinable time.