Item
A Touch of Retirement: Dice, Clubs, and Power Tools
Title (Dublin Core)
A Touch of Retirement: Dice, Clubs, and Power Tools
Disclaimer (Dublin Core)
DISCLAIMER: This item may have been submitted in response to a school assignment prompt. See Linked Data.
Description (Dublin Core)
Covid-19 had more of a positive effect than negative on my life in the spring/summer of 2020. I am a teacher in the small community of Anson, Texas, population 1,884; we are social distanced by default. Following the spring break of that school year, Anson ISD shut down and went wholly online. It was already a time of great transition for me, I was leaving the world of coaching in favor of becoming a regular classroom teacher and I had just been given five months to reflect on my new role. That time was spent with family and friends in an almost semi-retirement doing the things I never had time for because of my demanding schedule. As a teacher and coach, 60-hour work weeks were a norm, and during football seasons you could expect those hours to creep to the upper 90’s. There were also no “real” summers like other teachers. A coach’s summer is spent in morning workouts and summer camps with the occasional week off to visit family and decompress. That is why the “covid summer,” as I remember it, had such a profound impact on my life. Those five months were spent with family and friends playing dungeons and dragons, golfing, and remodeling a good friend’s house.
My younger brother is an avid dungeons and dragons player, a hobby that I never found myself with enough time to delve into. The collaborative story-based tabletop role playing game known as dnd requires several people, a few hours, and a lot of reading to play. My covid summer left me with ample free time to do just that. The sound of dice on hard tabletops rang throughout our houses as we held a regular weekly gaming session for five months. One unique thing about dungeons and dragons is the diversity of dice required to play the game, from four sided up to twenty sided and almost every even number in between, were required to effectively play the game. Most sets came with every dice, but the variety of color, size, and material quickly made collection a side hobby. Before long, I had a large bag full of dice and special black and gold metal set saved for only the most special of encounters. That is what I remember most, the cool touch of those dice as I contemplated the best course of action for my character to take against the hordes of enemies by brother could conjure up.
While the hottest days were spent in the air conditioning playing games, the pleasant ones were spent golfing. At the time, state health officials had mentioned golf as an almost perfect sport to play during covid because it was easy to social distance and the vitamin D from the sun helped to boost the immune system. I played a lot of golf with much of the same friends I played dnd with. Many of the golf courses we played at threw their doors open and welcomed golfers with open arms to try and keep the business afloat through the troubling times; we never once were denied a t-time. We played golf at least twice a week for five months and I don’t think my hands have recovered yet. The feel of those club handles wore out two gloves and countless blisters across both hand and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
While my other two hobbies offered little in the form of vocational skills, my third allowed me to learn the most. My good friend purchased his first home in May of 2020. A quaint 3 bed 2 bath home on a third of an acre just outside of Abilene, a larger town about 20 minutes south of Anson. The home was a product of the 60’s and while it had been well maintained by its previous owners, it needed quite a bit of updating. My friend had some experience in construction from a previous job, but we were all learning on the fly as we decided to remodel his home. Roughly a dozen power tools across four friends, we tore out walls, updated electrical, redid flooring, framed, drywalled, painted, and wired his 1500 square foot house for the better part of three months. There were a lot of late nights, beverages had, and good laughs shared. We all had some know how, but YouTube and google became our best friends. I had always heard the saying that rough hands meant hard work, but the feeling of my hands covered in drywall dust gave a much more visceral connection to it.
I think all these feelings for me were so profound during this time because the pandemic had placed a warning label on touch. My mom is a thirty-year veteran nurse, directed an ER during swine flu and bird flu, and still received Christmas cards from high-ranking officials of the CDC; I was well informed on the virus. In the early days, we didn’t know how long it lasted on surfaces, the severity of the virus, or its communicability. Touch was one thing that had to be eliminated. A six-foot bubble was placed on the world and people feared handshakes, hugs, and human embraces foundational to the species. One knows the dangers of the everyday world, but rarely to we expect a loving hug to potentially carry death to a dear loved one. This notion changed how we, as a species, saw each other. Some embraced the struggle to soldier on with courage and others gave into fear as new information came out hourly. Two years later, after mask mandates have been lifted across most of the country, people are still trying to heal. Fist bumps taken over handshakes, hands free pay at most supermarkets, automatic doors becoming a priority are all examples of how Covid-19 changed our perception of touch as a human race.
With all the activity I had during my covid summer, I did eventually contract the novel virus on my birthday in June. My only symptom was a loss of smell, one of the weirdest sensations I’ve ever had. I count myself extremely lucky that that was the only symptom I had. Aside from my ten days of self-quarantine, my life was affected in very much a positive way. I cherish the memories of my covid summer and count myself incredibly lucky to have experienced the pandemic the way I did.
My younger brother is an avid dungeons and dragons player, a hobby that I never found myself with enough time to delve into. The collaborative story-based tabletop role playing game known as dnd requires several people, a few hours, and a lot of reading to play. My covid summer left me with ample free time to do just that. The sound of dice on hard tabletops rang throughout our houses as we held a regular weekly gaming session for five months. One unique thing about dungeons and dragons is the diversity of dice required to play the game, from four sided up to twenty sided and almost every even number in between, were required to effectively play the game. Most sets came with every dice, but the variety of color, size, and material quickly made collection a side hobby. Before long, I had a large bag full of dice and special black and gold metal set saved for only the most special of encounters. That is what I remember most, the cool touch of those dice as I contemplated the best course of action for my character to take against the hordes of enemies by brother could conjure up.
While the hottest days were spent in the air conditioning playing games, the pleasant ones were spent golfing. At the time, state health officials had mentioned golf as an almost perfect sport to play during covid because it was easy to social distance and the vitamin D from the sun helped to boost the immune system. I played a lot of golf with much of the same friends I played dnd with. Many of the golf courses we played at threw their doors open and welcomed golfers with open arms to try and keep the business afloat through the troubling times; we never once were denied a t-time. We played golf at least twice a week for five months and I don’t think my hands have recovered yet. The feel of those club handles wore out two gloves and countless blisters across both hand and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
While my other two hobbies offered little in the form of vocational skills, my third allowed me to learn the most. My good friend purchased his first home in May of 2020. A quaint 3 bed 2 bath home on a third of an acre just outside of Abilene, a larger town about 20 minutes south of Anson. The home was a product of the 60’s and while it had been well maintained by its previous owners, it needed quite a bit of updating. My friend had some experience in construction from a previous job, but we were all learning on the fly as we decided to remodel his home. Roughly a dozen power tools across four friends, we tore out walls, updated electrical, redid flooring, framed, drywalled, painted, and wired his 1500 square foot house for the better part of three months. There were a lot of late nights, beverages had, and good laughs shared. We all had some know how, but YouTube and google became our best friends. I had always heard the saying that rough hands meant hard work, but the feeling of my hands covered in drywall dust gave a much more visceral connection to it.
I think all these feelings for me were so profound during this time because the pandemic had placed a warning label on touch. My mom is a thirty-year veteran nurse, directed an ER during swine flu and bird flu, and still received Christmas cards from high-ranking officials of the CDC; I was well informed on the virus. In the early days, we didn’t know how long it lasted on surfaces, the severity of the virus, or its communicability. Touch was one thing that had to be eliminated. A six-foot bubble was placed on the world and people feared handshakes, hugs, and human embraces foundational to the species. One knows the dangers of the everyday world, but rarely to we expect a loving hug to potentially carry death to a dear loved one. This notion changed how we, as a species, saw each other. Some embraced the struggle to soldier on with courage and others gave into fear as new information came out hourly. Two years later, after mask mandates have been lifted across most of the country, people are still trying to heal. Fist bumps taken over handshakes, hands free pay at most supermarkets, automatic doors becoming a priority are all examples of how Covid-19 changed our perception of touch as a human race.
With all the activity I had during my covid summer, I did eventually contract the novel virus on my birthday in June. My only symptom was a loss of smell, one of the weirdest sensations I’ve ever had. I count myself extremely lucky that that was the only symptom I had. Aside from my ten days of self-quarantine, my life was affected in very much a positive way. I cherish the memories of my covid summer and count myself incredibly lucky to have experienced the pandemic the way I did.
Date (Dublin Core)
Creator (Dublin Core)
Contributor (Dublin Core)
Event Identifier (Dublin Core)
Partner (Dublin Core)
Type (Dublin Core)
text story
Controlled Vocabulary (Dublin Core)
Curator's Tags (Omeka Classic)
Contributor's Tags (a true folksonomy) (Friend of a Friend)
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Date Submitted (Dublin Core)
05/23/2022
Date Modified (Dublin Core)
05/24/2022
05/26/2022
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This item was submitted on May 23, 2022 by Zachary Frazier using the form “Share Your Story” on the site “A Journal of the Plague Year”: http://mail.covid-19archive.org/s/archive
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