Bonnie Bing: During pandemic, memories are priceless

Here we are, still riding the Coronacoaster. Some days we actually know what day of the week it is. We take a walk, clean out the linen closet, bake something yummy and read a good book. And we think, ‘this stay at home isn’t so bad.’

You’re up!

The next day it might take heavy moving equipment to get you out of bed. For breakfast you eat whatever the kids didn’t finish. One more day of virus imposed agoraphobia and you’re ready for an adult beverage at 10 a.m.

You’re down.

Wall Street Journal columnist Walter Russell Mead wrote “Covid-19 is less a transient random disturbance after which the world will return to stability than it is a dress rehearsal for challenges to come.”

Dress Rehearsal? I’m not questioning Walter, but if this is a dress rehearsal, then let’s get this performance over with and head to the cast party. Soon!

I’ve been told I’m a people person. I must be because I miss people. I miss my pals, my family. Heck, I’m finding I even miss people I don’t particularly care for.

If there’s one thing I know about this we’re-all-in-this-together pandemic, it gives us too much time to think about stuff we want. Here’s an example. Do not judge me.

For some time I have wanted a push lawn mower, but not one with a motor, or is it an engine? Anyway I wasn’t sure why I’ve wanted it, but I reached the point of gotta have it and ordered one. A few days later it arrived on our doorstep.

Imagine my husband’s surprise when he brought the box in from the front porch. “Did you order a lawn mower?” he asked with an interesting expression on his face.

“Yes I did,” I told him in a very matter of fact tone. Bless his heart, after 35 years nothing seems to surprise him anymore. He did, however, ask, “And you needed this because….?” My quick answer: “Because I wanted it.”

But then I came up with a very practical reason explaining I could set the cutting thingy high and mow down stuff that grows above ground cover.

The description of the mower said “easily assembled.”

They lied.

Well maybe it would be an easy task for a mechanic. I’ve been down the Easy Assembly Road before. First thing was making sure all the parts were included. They were. Next step was putting two pieces of the handle together. I looked at the picture on the box. Then the instructions written in no less than four languages, and the sketch of what went where. After carefully studying the step one drawing I put the parts together tightening he bolts as tightly as I could. It was wrong. I had it on backward.

With much straining and muttering a couple of unladylike words, I got the thing apart, then proceeded to put it on incorrectly again. More muttering.

Third time was a charm. And the next part went more smoothly. Finally I got that devil assembled!

And at the first push I heard that whirl of the blades.

That was it! No wonder I wanted a push mower. That sound flooded my little brain with memories of my granny pushing the mower across her little front yard in Latham, Kansas and my dad mopping his forehead after mowing the yard on Arkansas Street in Lawrence.

No loud noise from a power mower, but a soft whirring that lets you know you’re cutting something. Granted I wouldn’t want to cut our big back yard with my new mower, but it’s something I’m glad I own. It brings back memories and those are priceless.