Coronawhat, Now? (Take 2)
Interviewing My Grandfather, Who Died in 2003, About the Coronavirus
Me: Pop-Pop! I’ve missed you so much. Thanks for agreeing to take a few minutes for this interview.
PP: I’ve missed you too, Colin.
Me: A lot has happened since you passed away.
PP: I know! I can’t believe the Indians lost another World Series.
PP: That goddamned rain delay.
Me: Unbelievable. Anyhow, the topic of the day is…
PP: We heard about it up here: the coronavirus.
Me: What are your thoughts?
PP: Like they said: Wash your hands.
Me: But, Pop-Pop, it’s spreading so quickly.
PP: I was born in 1923, five years after the onset of the Spanish flu that killed tens of millions of people. My parents often reflected on the friends they’d lost.
Me: Oh, right. Well, a lot of the news has also been focused on the economy and the stock market.
PP: I lived through the Great Depression. It was worse for others; Dad had a job. But, you might remember that my toes were crooked from having to wear shoes years past their fit.
Me: Well, let’s see here. I do have to admit that I’m worried about my job.
PP: I was a rivet salesman, traveling the Rust Belt by car for 50 years, away from my family five days a week. You’ll figure it out.
Me: Point taken. Still, I’m not sleeping well.
PP: When I was in the Army during World War II, I learned to sleep with my eyes open.
Me: Mom told me about that. They say we might have to quarantine ourselves at homes indefinitely.
PP: That reminds me of when I watched over dozens of Nazi prisoners after the Battle of the Bulge.
Me: Makes sense. How about this Trump administration? They aren’t making things any easier.
PP: I can’t help you there. Those guys are idiots.
Me: Okay. I have one more question. I hesitate to ask but: I have a bit of a cough. Am I going to die from this?
PP: Maybe. Maybe not. I, myself, died of a protracted battle with lung cancer.
Me: Welp! I’m gonna let you go, Pop-Pop. Thank you so much for taking the time. I love you.
PP: I love you, too, Colin. Go Tribe.
Me: They just delayed baseball season.
PP: You gotta be fucking kidding me.