<"Hemmed In": The Reckoner>
If privacy means "the right to be left alone," as US Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis so famously defined it, I wonder what he'd make of today's Corona landscape, where personal space comes at a steep premium. I've written about this problem before, but today's entry marks the first time, I think, that I've focused on this subject.
With the Squawker and I spending so much time pent up indoors, going outside seems like the logical way to let off some steam. Last weekend, we talked about taking a brief road trip, about 10-15 miles down one of our major local highways, to eat out, hit some antique stores, maybe stop and take some art photos. This particular area, in our county's southern portion, is a well-known destination spot, and boasts some of the most appealing scenery you'll find ayhwere.
Unfortunately, the plan foundered after a quick check online, and found that most of the establishments we hoped to visit were closed...a reminder that the "new normal" so many are yearning to see is still a long way off.
That leaves the local beaches and parks, which is hit -- and a lot of miss, when so many others have the same idea. Lately, it's not unusual to find half a dozen or so cars parked there, shoulder to shoulder, almost. When those situations pop up, we either come back in a few minutes, or try another day.
Last Thursday, we hit on another idea. Our local nondenominational church is starting a community garden, with all comers welcome. We figured this might provide an ideal cooling off spot, if we needed it. We'd never seen too many people out there, so why not try it?
The Squawker and I pulled up into the church parking lot, where a long, wooden, newly-built rectangular box stood proudly in the center. Nobody had filled it with potting soil yet, but we didn't expect to take on that particular task yet. For now, we were just happy to sit in our minivan, with the doors partially open, enjoying the 50-degree weather. It made a nice break from the low to mid-thirties that we'd shivered under since Sunday.
Just then, though, another minivan pulled up, breaking our conversational flow as we looked at it. Where had this woman come from? She wasn't wearing a mask, but that didn't stop her from rolling down her window, and firing questions. "Are you here for the plants?" she asked me.
"Er, not sure what you mean by that, exactly," I ventured.
The woman tried again. "Are you here for the plants?"
"No." I gestured at the wooden box. "We're seeing if it's tall enough for us to use."
"Oh." The woman tried a different tack. "I came to pick up some plants. Are you dropping them off?"
I shook my head. "No, and I don't have anything to do with whoever does." To discourage further questions, I shut the door, and rolled my window back up.
Turning to Squawker, I asked, "Do you want to stick around a few more minutes, or do you want to go?"
"Let's just go," Squawker sighed. "I was getting relaxed before she pulled up. I didn't even see her before she rolled up, without a mask. Why do they things like that?"
I backed out of the parking lot, and circled past our questioner. "I'm not sure, exactly. I've had similar experiences, but I just haven't told you."
"What do you mean?" Squawker asked.
I recounted the experience I'd had a couple months ago, at the self-service car wash, just a couple miles down the road from our complex. It makes a convenient pit stop to use the change machines, and accumulate quarters for various minor tasks.
I was bent over the machine, as I told Squawker, scooping up my wares. Suddenly, I came face to face to with a guy using the second machine. I hadn't heard his arrival, and obviously, I hadn't seen him. It made for an unsettling encounter, especially if he'd had bad intentions. It came too close for comfort around seven o'clock at night, in the throes of a late winter darkness.
"So it's not just you who deals with this stuff," I said. "I didn't say anything at the time, because I didn't want to alarm you."
"It figures," Squawker sighed. "I don't know if I'll ever find a place to relax."
On the plus side, Squawker and I did venture out to the beach this week, and the overall experience worked out better. Maybe it was the timing (midday, Monday), or the quirk of the calendar (last week in April, so no major holidays, nor occasions when you'd run into more people than usual), or just some piece of luck, I don't know.
At any rate, we were able to relax a bit, take some snapshots, and even walk around a little, before calling it a day, and heading home. What Justice Brandeis would make of such things, if you could teleport him to COVID-era USA, I don't know. But I suspect he'd have a field day with that two-word phrase: "left alone." The way things work right now, that right is only guaranteed if you stay within the four walls that eat up so much of your income. --The Reckoner
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