Tag Archives: pandemic life

Groundhog Day

Tomorrow is the day a rodent named Phil, in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania peeks his head up from the snowy ground to find his shadow. If he sees his shadow, according to legend, there will be six more weeks of winter. Paradoxically (at least to me), if he doesn’t see his shadow, spring will come early.

Groundhog Day is also the setting for the famous film featuring Bill Murray as a TV weatherman who visits Punxsutawney, only to get stuck in a time loop, reliving the day over and over until he figures out how to break the cycle. Sounds a little too real, right?

For the last couple of years, I, like many people, have felt stuck in a similar loop. Wake up, work from home, watch TV, go to bed…wake up, work from home, watch TV, go to bed…and so on…and so on…Sprinkled in between, there are occasional errands to shop for groceries, doctor appointments, and other of life’s necessities. There have been brief periods where we’ve gone to restaurants and traveled, had glimpses of life beyond. But it seems even that is part of the Groundhog Day loop.

So here I am, on the brink of another year cycling round and round the pandemic. In the film, Bill Murray’s character decides that since he’s stuck, he might as well pass the time acquiring new skills. He takes piano lessons, he learns ice carving, among others. And in the end, he changes from an arrogant, cynical curmudgeon into a softer, more sensitive version of himself. With the realization that his actions have no long-term consequences, and the notion that this may be his fate forever, he is able to let go of the life he had and learn to live in the moment.

That lesson has been the hardest for me to learn. As a chronic planner I am most comfortable when I have things to look forward to and anticipate. I don’t think I’m a control freak, but I do like to have a goal. I can live in the moment only after I’ve planned for an executed the plan for the moment. So, it’s been a challenge to let go of plans, to reframe my goals, and to find pleasure in what is right outside my window. As for learning new skills, well, I started a new job in early 2020, doing something a bit different from what I’d done previously, so I’ve been learning as I go for the past two years. My husband and I have had to learn to navigate around each other as our house also became our shared “corporate headquarters.” We’ve had to set new types of boundaries, communicate differently, and manage new expectations.

Bill Murray’s weatherman finally breaks the cycle when the fates determine he’s learned enough, become a better version of himself, and can be open to the possibilities that are all around him. Obviously, a global pandemic is not a lighthearted romantic comedy, far from it. Hundreds of thousands have died, countless other lives have been irrevocably damaged, and our world will never be the same, regardless of the lessons learned. But perhaps there is a kernel of hope to be found in letting go of rigid expectations, learning things, living in the moment, embracing new ways of thinking, and being open to possibilities. I don’t know what Punxsutawney Phil will see, or not see, tomorrow. I always pray for a shorter winter. But either way, I’m good.

About Barbara Dab

Barbara Dab is a journalist, broadcast radio personality, producer and award-winning public relations consultant.  She is the Editor of The Jewish Observer of Nashville, and a former small business owner.  Barbara loves writing, telling stories of real people and real events and most of all, talking to people all over the world.  The Jewish Observer newspaper can be read online at www.jewishobservernashville.org . and follow her on Instagram @barbdab58

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Reflections on a Dirty Martini

There’s not much more to be said of the past year, and since the new one isn’t even a week old, I’d prefer not to comment too much or even try to predict any turn of events.  Life has not felt normal for a long time and frankly, I’m tired of trying to make any sense of things right now.  Instead, I just want to reflect on something small.  A martini.

My dad’s regular drink was a dirty martini.  Medium dry, Beefeater’s Gin, with a drizzle of Vermouth, a splash of olive juice and as the piece de resistance, those gorgeous, juicy, green olives with just a peek of red pimento winking at me.  He’d come home from work, call for my mom to join him upstairs while he changed clothes and they spent a few private moments together.  Then it was back down to the kitchen to mix that perfectly glamorous drink while my mom finished preparing dinner.  I’d hang around, hoping for a taste of the olive at the end.  Year after year he’d simply tell me I was too young, while I watched him sip that tantalizing concoction.  Finally, the day came when he handed over the olive.  Aaaah!  I’d finally made it!  I took the fruit from his toothpick and popped it into my mouth, sucked on it for a few minutes, then nibbled it bit by bit, savoring the tang of the gin with the saltiness of the olive. 

To this day, a dirty martini is my decadent pleasure.  Just the look of the triangle shaped glass with the olives perched on their toothpick inside the slightly cloudy drink of gin and Vermouth, makes me think of my dad driving into the garage in his Chevy Malibu, of our Delta Green shag carpet, our paneled den where I’d watch The Mary Tyler Moore Show, my mom made up, hair done, dressed for going out.  Yep, the late 1960s and early 1970s were groovy times, at least to me. 

In retrospect, though, they were also troubled years filled with social unrest, presidential scandals, assassinations, air pollution and some really groundbreaking protest songs.  As a late baby boomer, I was ill equipped to participate actively in the struggles of my older cousins to move the needle from the heady post-war (WWII) years to bridge the Generation Gap and herald the new age of technology just on the horizon.  But I watched from the sidelines as they marched, protested, chanted and sang about the wrongs they believed needed to be put right.  Those years shaped me, too, just like my dad’s dirty martini.  Part bitter, part tart, a little sweetness and at the end, an olive plucked from that marinade.  Every evening mix and repeat. 

About Barbara Dab

Barbara Dab is a journalist, broadcast radio personality, producer and award-winning public relations consultant.  She is the Editor of The Jewish Observer of Nashville, and a former small business owner.  Barbara loves writing, telling stories of real people and real events and most of all, talking to people all over the world.  The Jewish Observer newspaper can be read online at www.jewishobservernashville.org .

Like what you’ve read? Feel free to share, but please… Give HerSavvy credit. Thanks!

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