Thoughts during the apocalypse, Part 26.

A majestic rainbow rises into the air over Mansfield.

It’s been a while since I posted because I’ve been busy trying to resume some sort of a normal life while staying within the restrictions still imposed by our governor as the pandemic lockdown enters its eighth week here at the start of May.

I’d be thoroughly depressed about that if not for a natural phenomenon I witnessed as I returned Friday from my weekly trip to Boston for takeout food from Jen Royle’s restaurant. Driving back home through a heavy shower, I saw the clouds finally part as I reached the homestead, and as I pulled the car through the garage and into the backyard to make the turnaround that points the car toward the street, I witnessed a thoroughly spectacular rainbow seemingly rising from the pond that borders my property. It was glorious, and I snapped the above photo to remind me that there are higher powers afoot than that which is challenging us now.

May. Can you believe that? When we first started worrying about this, it was February — and about 65,000 more Americans were alive. And it’s still not clear what the future holds. Every day we get mixed messages about what’s coming ... normalcy, or a second wave of the coronavirus in the fall? Nobody knows. Some think we won’t be entirely out of the woods for two years, and until at least 70 percent of the nation has been infected.

Basketball and hockey are probably done. Baseball is on hold at least until July. The NFL is acting as if there will be a normal start to the season, but there is still a lot of momentum toward empty stadiums. Some states have tightened their coronavirus restrictions, while others (mostly with deep loyalties to Donald Trump) have fast-tracked the effort to reopen their economies — and have suddenly reported a swift up-tick in new coronavirus cases.

No, I didn’t really gulp
down a quart of wipes.

And all the while, our Stable Genius-in-Chief is wondering aloud if drinking disinfectants and having high-intensity lights shoved up our asses will cure COVID-19. I can’t wait until they start serving Clorox shakes in Tuscaloosa. Personally, I wouldn’t mind if all of those masked private militiamen that stormed the Michigan statehouse would gulp down several Lysol smoothies as soon as possible. Yes, they showed their “courage” by attempting to pressure some frightened-out-of-their-wits legislators into lifting the restrictions that the gun nuts claim to be infringements upon their liberties. Let’s see how courageous they really are when they’re sick as dogs (actually, dogs don’t deserve this insult) and they’re about to meet their makers.

Sure, guys! Gulp down a gallon of Clorox. More refreshing than covfefe!

Now, some other thoughts as the pandemic churns on ...

** I get grief from some Twitter trolls from time to time because of my support for the aforementioned Ms. Royle’s restaurant in the North End of Boston. Jen was, of course, an Emmy Award-winning TV reporter in New York, Baltimore and Boston before she transitioned into a new career as a chef. And during her brief time in Boston sports media, she apparently infuriated a small group of basement-dwellers that resented the presence of a strong-willed and brashly-speaking woman in the midst of their daily feed of male-dominated sports opinions. Even though she’s been out of sports media for several years now, they continue to stalk her and insult her electronically. Some even go as far as making fake reservations to her restaurant and thus costing her money.

As a result, because I occasionally tell some of these individuals what they can do with themselves on  Twitter, I have become a “white knight” and am subject to their scorn as well. Well, good luck to them on that. It only is worthwhile when it’s relevant, and it’s only relevant when it’s visible. I block the assholes.

Chicken Parmesan from TABLE.

What am I getting from all this? Great food — for the same price everyone else pays. This week, I got an order of chicken Parmesan and penne for $22 and it lasts for two dinners. As you can see, it was amazing.

Yes, I have made the trek up to TABLE for six straight weeks since restaurants were closed by executive order in this state, because I’m trying to do my part to help a former Mansfield Hornet not lose her restaurant for reasons that neither she nor anyone else can control. I don’t know Jen all that well; I didn’t cover many field hockey games when she wore the Green and White, and I wrote one story about her when she returned here from Baltimore, the classic local-woman-makes-good type of tale when it appeared she might be getting a job on local sports-talk radio. But as I have seen over the years that followed, it has taken balls the size of small moons to make a complete 180-degree turn away from one career to embrace another — and I really respect that.

I visited TABLE twice after its opening, and under normal conditions, it’s quite the feed — fixed price and fixed menu of eight or nine courses, served to patrons “family style” at two long tables inside the small storefront that houses the restaurant. I’ve said before that it’s very much like when I used to go to my Sicilian grandmother’s house for the holidays and the entire Farinella family was present. It’s controlled chaos, but fun. But at TABLE, you don’t know most of the people around you, and you end up being sociable and making new friends because of it.

Things may change a little after restaurants re-open; Jen will probably have to do some social distancing and cut severely into her seating capacity, which is small enough as it is. But until then, she had to do something to pay the bills, so she turned around on a top again and created a takeout menu of classic Italian favorites.

So far, so good. Jen mentioned on social media recently that she’s breaking even during this stressful period. And I can attest that the orders for her takeout menu have increased steadily upon my arrival at each successive Friday visit. The ride is easy, and I enjoy chatting with Jen’s mother, Dianne, who oversees the outgoing orders and was a selectwoman in Mansfield years ago. The way I see it, I’m in a position where I love good Italian food, and by buying it, I can help someone that makes it to keep her dream alive.

If that makes me a “white knight,” then I’m good with that.

Proper social distancing.

** Took a trip down to Falmouth on Saturday to help my friend, Alex, inspect his summer home. He just had winter tenants move out, and we took a look around to make sure things were clean and ready for re-occupancy at some point. Indeed, I will be renting it from him later this year for my annual getaway.

Alex is like my brother from another mother, and I would trust him with my life. Yet both of us still adhered to current protocols by wearing medical masks and observing proper social distancing. Later, we made a visit to the beach on Wild Harbor that we usually visit, and we observed that “social distancing” was just a phrase without meaning among others.

At the house that borders the entry to the beach, there was a party going on. At least 10 young people, maybe more — dancing, drinking and and tanning and just generally having a ball in the 70-degree weather. Masks? Not a hint of one. And as both Alex and I — two individuals living within the high-risk group — observed the goings-on, I’m sure we both thought back to our youth and wistfully recalled how great it was to feel invulnerable at a time in our lives.

** One last thought going forward. I was a busy bee last week, lining up guests for “The Owner’s Box” for the next month. I’ve got four and will be recording two of them next week, with the first one likely to go on line by Wednesday. More details as they come.

See you soon, folks. Stay safe, and try not to go off the deep end just yet.