Every afternoon I go to the clubhouse in the RV park where I am staying. I like a change of scenery after sitting around all morning, and I like the streaming quality WiFi. The cookies set out each day aren’t bad either!

When I first arrived at the park, I met lots of people over here. Now, it is super quiet as more people stay home. A few wander in to get water from the special tap with filtered water (10 cents/gallon) or to pick up a movie; otherwise, I have the place to myself. Except for Carl. I met him today when he came in to just get out of his rig. Ah-ha I thought when I met him. Someone for this roving people-watcher to interview. Someone to write about.

Carl shuffled in with his cane and started to sit in the chair next to me. I flashed my best smile and asked gently if he could sit a little further away. I reminded him, “Social distancing!”

“Are you afraid I have the virus,” he asked.

I lied in response,  “No, I am more worried about giving it to you.”

He seemed content with that answer and settled in a bit further away.

I continued the conversation by offering my name. Then, after some small talk, I asked him his age. He was coy, like a woman who was trying to hide her age. He finally said, “In my 90s.” I determined after a bit more questioning that he was more like 95. He enlisted in the Navy in 1942 when they were taking people 17 years old. The math was not complicated. Carl told me that he wished he saw more action in the war, but it ended too early.

“Yep, the atomic bomb put an end to that.”

I decided to just let that go. What could I possibly say to someone old enough to have been serving in the military when the bomb dropped? Besides, it seemed just too darn serious for today. We have our own atomic bomb equivalent that seems to overshadow everything else.

I moved to more common stuff. Carl was married twice and then had a lady friend who died last fall. He has a few kids whom he never sees since he no longer travels. He was raised in Illinois but lived “all over” the country as an adult.

“I was a traveling salesman and worked “everywhere,” including in Mexico.”

He emphasized “all over” and “everywhere”. When I asked about his RV travels (we are, after all, in an Escapess Co-Op Park), Carl used the same words.

“All over” and “Everywhere.”

He wanted to talk, I could tell that because he was settled into his chair, but he was not a super talkative guy. I had to work it to get any kind of detail about his life.

“Neighbor Carl”, March 2020

Carl was the most animated when we talked about the coronavirus. I tried to probe his feelings and fears and asked, “Are you afraid?” His philosophy about the whole thing was, “If I get it, I get it. If I die, I die.” I guess when you reach 95, things are simple. But then he asked if anyone in this county has been diagnosed. I told him about a guy in another small town whose test came back positive. I also told him that I read online that 6 people in this town are in self-isolation. He wondered why that would be, and I explained that they had probably been around someone with the virus. “Oh” was all he said. I could see the wheels turning inside his head and imagined he was saying to himself,

“So, it is here.”

That was what I thought, anyway, when I heard the news,

“So, it is here.”

Carl eventually shuffled off to put some Easter cards on the free table and to donate a book to the library. I was left to think. Am I afraid? I guess. However, like Carl, I am somewhat resigned to fate. If I get it, I get it. If I die, I die. Of course, statistically, he is more likely to die. It makes me wonder,

“Will anyone I know die?”

Many of my friends are in the high-risk group, but I also have many younger friends. Who of us will get it? Who will die? We do not know yet, but in the future, we will. How is this going to end?

In the meantime, I try to keep laughing and exchanging funny memes or videos with friends. It seems imperative to stay in touch all the time on social media with the people I care about, and that more is needed right now than a “thumbs up” in response to someones text. Maybe that is why a few of us have spontaneously blurted out in our messages, “Hey, I luv ya” or “Luv ya, forever.” I have never said this to these people, but, suddenly, it is like being in high school when your friends are your entire world, and a “Luv ya” just comes naturally.

Eventually, Carl finished roaming around the clubhouse and started to shuffle towards the door. I called out, “Bye Carl, I really enjoyed talking to you.”

“Bye hun,” he called back. “Hope to see  you again.”

I whispered to myself, “I sure hope so.”