I wondered if it would be too much to hire a string quartet. The worse the news about COVID-19, the government’s response, the election, and the failures of democracy afterward, the more elaborate my plans became-ideal guest lists, chic place cards so those guests would be arranged in ways that would encourage fascinating conversations, fancy place settings and maybe new cutlery, some chargers, beautiful menus, multiple courses, and, of course, delicious wine. As a distraction, I quietly planned the fabulous dinner parties we would have when it was all over. It was a celebration, but the evening was tempered by so many sobering realities.Īnd then there were many months of just the two of us at home, enjoying each other. We had more than a moment of mourning for the countless lives that had already been lost, without realizing the magnitude of the tragedy yet to come. We had a moment of mourning for the big wedding we had once been planning. We tried to pretend that everything was normal for just one night. Later, we sat around the firepit as best we could, drinks in hand. As the sun set, we celebrated our marriage with six other people.
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We tried to be as safe as possible, or maybe we convinced ourselves we were being as safe as possible. It was all very festive-June 2020, three or so months into a very long year-and-a-half of isolation and worry and waiting.ĭebbie and I had not imagined we would have any opportunities to socialize until there was a vaccine, but then we did.
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We arranged a basket of plastic plates and cutlery and sat outside to eat, everyone six feet apart, wearing masks when we weren’t eating.
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I baked a three-layer strawberry shortcake, and we set everything out on a table.
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I had barbecued steak with homemade steak sauce, made a pasta salad, roasted some fingerling potatoes, and sautéed pea pods with a sprinkling of cracked black pepper and Parmesan. There we were, at a small gathering of friends after my wife, Debbie, and I eloped in an office park in Encino, California.