March 20, 2021: Rules to Live By -

My most lifelong friend once told me, as a Rule to Live By, “Always tip street musicians.” And I do, though of course I have modified the Rule a bit: street musicians, YES, but street preachers, NO (this is on the “Don’t encourage them” idea). So by that same token: street musicians, YES, but didgeridoo players, NO  (I don’t want to encourage THEM). Furthermore, I believe tipping one musician per day is okay, though there's no harm in tipping more than one.

 So it’s a Rule to Live By, with a bunch of tweaks. You know. Like most Rules to Live By.

My oldest friend can’t recall giving me this instruction. People often quote me to me, and usually they have remembered something awful I said, not a generous patron-of-artists precept. But even though hers is better, I’m glad she can’t remember it any more than I remember my own pronouncements.

I went down to the PSU Farmer’s Market today, first visit this year, and I was READY to tip the musicians there, money in my pockets, but there wasn’t a one. Not the didgeridoo player, nor the steel drum player, nor any of the regulars. It may have been the drizzly weather, or maybe it’s a pandemic safety precaution. 

All the benches were taped off, too, so although the food vendors are in bloom, you must take your food elsewhere to eat it. Sigh. This will probably not be the Rule too much longer, though, right? Benches free by the fall?

The thoughts about Rules melded into my thoughts about the past year, because today is the anniversary of my first blog post about the pandemic, the one where I woke up with the realization that we were flailing because of Competing Imperatives. (If we locked down to flatten the curve, it would hurt the economy; if we fixated on herd immunity, we’d overwhelm the health system; we had to protect the most vulnerable, but how?) What was our Rule to Live By?

I was thinking both about those Big Rules and about the small, day-to-day Rules to Live By that we’ve all developed (often with exceptions). That night last March, the last night before theaters and restaurants closed, I went out to a play. I spotted a beloved former student in the lobby, and when I said his name, he turned around and enveloped me in a huge bear hug (remember hugs?), just as I was squeaking out something like, “Is it still safe to hug?” None of us knew the Rules that were coming, that we’d go from  avoiding handrails, to avoiding the breath of asymptomatic other people indoors.  

A friend wrote today asking if he could stay here when he comes to Portland in a few months. Stay HERE? Inside our HOUSE? Oh! SURE!!

I’ve been operating for a year on the Rule: I don’t go into houses, and people don’t come into mine. No houses! (I made three exceptions, one being if somebody really needed a bathroom. And let’s just note that Dr. Fauci and his wife have had somebody cleaning their house this year, while they weren’t hugging grandkids. He mentioned the house cleaners in an interview, and I yelped. WHAT??)

I am aware that my No Houses Rule was probably overkill. I could have loosened up a bit, but having a Rule is so easy, right? It’s like Mike Pence and the no-lunch-alone-with-a-woman thing: it is so SIMPLE. He doesn’t have to assess each woman and say: Is this one safe? He can just classify them all as NOPE, and he doesn’t have to think about it any more, or offend anyone in particular. Equal opportunity offensiveness! It's just My Rule! (Performs “I wipe my hands” move.) (I hope this is the last time I shall compare myself to Mike Pence.)

Anyway YES, our friend can stay here in a few months, which means we might have to pick up some of the clutter. That was one of the Old Rules, in the Before: If people are coming over, we should make an attempt at picking up some of the clutter.

My favorite Competing Imperative of late was a dog-owning pal who is by nature thrifty. His ancient dog needed some expensive prescription, and somebody told him he could save twenty bucks getting it at Costco, which he promptly went off to do. And Costco was Full of People, not all of them Masked! And the pharmacy was in the BACK! And they took the prescription and told him it would be about FIFTEEN MINUTES! And he realized he was courting DEATH (his own, his wife’s, his elderly sister-in-law’s), in order to save twenty bucks! And he said (not aloud), WHAT AM I DOING?

We were both howling into our phones, as he related this story, but we did catch our breath, and I said, “What are we going to do with all our extra time and energy, when we don’t have to make Calculations like that, or when at least they don’t usually involve DEATH as the downside risk?” Neither of us knew, but it will be fun to find out.