Front Porch: Filling void while waiting for return to normal

Once again, I’m sending my dispatch from the Great Void.

Perhaps that’s a bit overstated, but if you are a fan of John Oliver’s “Last Week Tonight” on HBO, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Since the pandemic shut down production in his studio, he’s been doing his show from home, in a plain-background box, cut off from the world, which he refers to as the Great Void or Empty Void or whatever void suits his mood that day. He hasn’t seen his production staff in more than a year.

Not quite on the same scale, but I feel your pain, brother.

For the past year of writing the Front Porch column, it’s been a lot like that. Some of the things I write about – like my I-have-to-do-it-or-die grammar rants – don’t require outside personal contact. But a lot of things do. So I’ve had to improvise and call on memories of experiences which (hopefully) have relevance for today or chat about virtual adventures.

Sure, there were a few columns discussing life outside my house – the trip to the ER, the trip for surgery (twice), frustration at seeing all those non-face-masked people milling about during the various peaks in the pandemic when I’d have to go out for a business matter. But largely, the writing has had to come from what’s inside my head. And it’s getting kind of stuffy in there.

I am one of those older people – now fully vaccinated, thank you very much – who was most susceptible to dire consequence if infected. And even now, my husband and I are still closely following best-practice advice of the scientists and limiting our exposure out there. Bruce is still working, but he has a pretty rigid safety drill (plus appropriate protective gear, including respirators, when needed).

So, I’m home a lot, and not even doing yardwork, as my broken arm is still in its splint and my new left hip is experiencing a slowdown on the road to recovery. The pine needles aren’t being raked, the flower beds aren’t being prepped, things are greening up without any attention or direction from me.

But I’ve found ways to amuse myself and stay connected to friends, as so many of us have – texting, Zooming, Facetiming and, in my own way, old-lady-appropriate gaming. That last thing is not something I ever thought I’d be doing.

I wouldn’t know “Grand Theft Auto,” “Angry Birds,” “Pokémon” or any of the other newer and hotter applications if they landed on my head. I only toss out those names because I’ve seen them in the media. But I do know words. And, hence, “Words With Friends.”

I play daily with a friend in California. Sometimes I kill it; sometimes she does. Some games come down to the last move. We had one that was a tie. And there are those games when you’re blessed (?) with all vowels or all consonants, making smart play next to impossible.

But new words are being learned all the time. Strategic defensive play is a must, otherwise you set the other player up for a point orgy. And while we’re competitive about it, it’s still done in good fun. And we have little side chats along the way.

Good for the brain and good for staying in touch – though we both don’t understand how you can put down all seven letters, including ones on double- or triple- word/letter scores and the algorithm only awards you 55 points. Something clearly wrong there, which is a nice thing to fuss over, rather than politics and the mayhem all around us.

I’ve been watching cooking videos, discussing them with one of my sons, and trying new recipes. And Bruce has hauled up our tax boxes from downstairs so I can go through them. All tax materials older than seven years (except for the basic filing documents and a few special items that should be saved)) are being shredded.

Not taking them out for free shred day, just shredding them slowly in our little home shredder and putting a bag out each week in the trash can. This is going to take awhile, clearly.

But then, I do seem to have the time.

Like everyone else, I can’t wait to rejoin the world, even if in somewhat modified fashion. I would love to hug a friend who is grieving a loss, to become one of the ladies who lunch again and do some number of the interactive things that used to make up my normal life.

Meantime, it’s all about continuing to adapt, especially if I want to go back to up-close-and-personal living sometime soon, safely.

Meantime, it’s the Great Void for John Oliver … and for me.

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Voices correspondent Stefanie Pettit can be reached by e-mail at upwindsailor@comcast.net.