The weekend the world changed

On the Vonlane bus to San Antonio

Tomorrow marks eleven weeks of social isolation for me and my local family. I asked Jordan tonight about individually wrapped Clorox wraps and she said she was able to get plenty the weekend we went to San Antonio. Since then, she’s never found them in stores. As we talked I realized that was the weekend the world changed.

We went the weekend of March 7 because I had a chance to sign The Second Battle of the Alamo at the annual meeting of the Alamo Society. Jordan, Jacob, and I took the Vonlane “executive” bus to Austin. That part of the trip was like other times I’ve ridden that bus—nice lunch service, friendly attendant, nothing remarkable.

In Austin we picked up Megan and her son, Ford, and drove on to San Antonio. At that time, San Antonio had a few cases of COVID-19 and the proactive mayor had declared an emergency. So we went with hesitation. An email to the president of the society beforehand assured me that many from the group were already there and everything was fine. Armed with wipes, sprays, and what-have-you, we ventured forth.

We stayed at the historic Menger Hotel—a two-room suite for me and my girls, a separate room for the cousins (they were thrilled). Jordan sprayed every inch of those rooms every time we went into them. She harangued us about washing our hands frequently. She was vigilante.

But life in San Antonio seemed to go on as usual—we walked crowded streets, mingled with the tourists at the Alamo, ate in some really good restaurants, took Ubers around the city, and had a fine time. Come Sunday, we drove back to Austin, ate at a Mexican restaurant, and then the three of us boarded a Vonlane for Fort Worth. And that’s when I saw the changes.

The girls left me to nap while they took the boys to the River Walk.

It was a ruse--they went to drink margaritas.

Over the weekend, Vonlane had really upgraded their sanitary measures. No masks, but the attendant wore gloves and frequently offered us sanitary wipes. She used tongs to hand us baggies of chips and Styrofoam containers of supper. We did have a catastrophe—the driver braked suddenly, and my salad flew across my trail table, sailed across the aisle, and landed upside down under the driver’s seat. The attendant, wearing her gloves was unflappable and cleaned it all up easily. But I was struck by the difference in sanitary measures from Friday to Sunday. That marked, for me, the beginning of the change in our lives.

When we came home, Jordan and Christian took Jacob to Broken Bow in Oklahoma to fish for spring break. It was a good choice, as they saw almost no people. I don’t remember what I did most of the week, but I clearly remember that good friend Subie and her sister Diana took me to the Arlington Women’s Club where I talked to a group about my life as a writer. It was a speaking engagement I had worried and fretted about and wished I’d never accepted, but as usually happens, it went well. I just need to get over the anxiety beforehand.

That evening, Carol and I went to Lucille’s for super and remarked that it was less crowded than usual. We wondered if people were staying home because of the novel corona virus. The date was March 12, and I have been out of the house only once since them—to ride with Jordan when she picked up to-go food. That weekend, the stay-at-home directives came down, but for me the world really changed the weekend before.

What stories my grandchildren will have to tell their children.

Grandsons at the signing