Quiz #88. The Tip
Why building a fire pit in my backyard reminded me of my time as an altar boy? Hope for innocence in Steve's Stay-at-Home Coronavirus Quiz for October 18, 2020.
Have you ever told a story about something that happened to you--and in the retelling, the person who hears the story opens your eyes to how strange, suspect and even sinister this event of your life might appear to others.
In Catholic grammar school, I was the President of the Altar Boys. The captain of Funeral Team One. (As captain of a funeral team, you had to light the half-dollar-sized charcoal briquet used to ignite the incense at the end of the service. Like any good charcoal fire, you had to light the charcoal in advance at just the right time in the service to make sure it was ready in time.)
Me in a special Altar Boy uniform for a confirmation ceremony. (Hence, the red trim.)
As an altar boy, I got to go on special outings with a priest. His name (which I’ve changed here) was Father Jones. On summer Fridays, he’d drive a handful of altar boys to Jones Beach, 30 minutes from my Long Island home. He’d bring a beach chair and sit at the water’s edge, smoking a cigar and watching us boys swim in the ocean. It felt completely normal and looking back, I have no memories of anything unusual or untoward. But retelling this story now always raises eyebrows. “Watching us boys swim.” Really?
This was in the Diocese of Rockville Centre which was in the news this month as one of the largest to declare bankruptcy in the face of massive payouts to the victims of pedophile priests. As an adult, I have checked the name of Father Jones in the registry of pedophile priests. His name is not on the list. Still, while certainly suspect now, I really do believe that these outings were completely innocent--and yet I know that what seemed normal then, certainly seems abnormal now.
It’s not anywhere on the same level, but this story brings me to finishing the fire pit that I built in our backyard for the so-called “fire table” Sara and I bought so that we could sit outside and stay warm as the evenings get cooler but we remain socially distanced and isolated at home.
I carved out a 6-foot circle in the yard, taking out the grass and digging an area that was 2 inches deep. The 6 feet, of course, was for social distance--and just right with a 28-inch square fire table.
I bought leveling sand and 20 50-pound bags of pea gravel from Home Depot. On top of the sand, I positioned and leveled 4 paving stones for the legs of the table.
It should not surprise anyone to know that, in building things, I am obsessed with symmetry and getting things level. In the middle of the project, Sara asked me if I’d ever wished I’d become an architect. (My grandfather was an architect and designed buildings in New York and a hospital in Pennsylvania.)
As my sister Susan observed when seeing the pictures of the completed project below, it’s “cozy” and Sara and I look forward to using it to get outside safely and warmly as the second wave of coronavirus looms on the horizon with colder months ahead.
But what does any of this have to do with my strange adventure? I ordered the gravel from Home Depot and checked the option for a contactless pick-up at the store. It was ready in hours and online, I was instructed to drive to the store, click on a button on my phone upon arrival and they’d text me to coordinate the pick-up. I’d get the whole thing done without getting out of the car or going into the store.
Right away, I discovered there was a problem with the plan. The fire table is powered by a propane tank--and you can’t order propane through contactless delivery. I scheduled my pickup for a weekday morning and figured I would go inside to buy the propane tank. It’s a large store and everyone wore masks, the clerks all behind large, plastic shields and everyone waiting 6 feet apart on any lines. Picking up the propane was not the problem--getting the gravel was.
When I arrived at the store, I got out my phone and clicked the button to announce my arrival, entering information about our van, where I was parked and my phone number. The app told me they’d text me when the order was being brought outside. I waited and nothing happened. I knew I had to go inside to get the propane so instead of waiting any longer, I figured I would ask about the pick-up when I went inside to buy the propane. After I bought the propane, I asked about the gravel pick-up and the clerk pointed to my order, behind her on a cart near a door and ready for pick-up. Just pull my van up, she instructed.
A second clerk was waiting near the cart with my order and he told me that he’d load the gravel into the van. He was a young man and seemed as if he might have special needs.
I went out to move the van. I didn’t want to have close contact with the clerk but I wanted to leave him a tip for loading 1,000 pounds of gravel into the van. Before leaving my parking space and heading to the loading area, I opened the back tailgate and put a $10 bill on top of the tarp I had put in the back. I drove up to the designated area, opened the back tailgate and got out to tell the clerk that I’d left him a tip in the back of the van--and that’s when things got seemingly strange.
He told me that he was not allowed to remove anything from my vehicle and did not want to be seen on any security cameras reaching into the van. I moved around to the back of the van and picked up the 10-dollar bill, prepared to hand it to him from as much distance as possible. He then explained that he could not be seen accepting a cash tip.
If I wanted him to have the tip, he explained, I’d have to put it in his pocket. He had an orange apron with pockets in the front. I reached across and stuffed the $10 into his apron pocket. I got back in the driver’s seat, he loaded the gravel and I drove home.
It was only in the telling of this story to Sara that it hit me just how odd the whole thing seemed to someone who was not there. It had all unfolded so quickly that I didn’t think about it, but stuffing a 10-dollar bill into the apron pocket of a young man I did not know on a sidewalk outside of a Home Depot is now part of my strange history in these strange times. I really don’t think it was anything sinister or suspect. I think the guy wanted the tip but just didn’t want to get in trouble. Still, the image of an older man stuffing a 10-dollar bill into the front pocket of a young man has now been captured on security footage. A perfectly innocent and well-meaning gesture, now open to misunderstanding if the silent video somehow emerged and someone just looked at it without knowing what really happened. It’s so very 2020.
Building the fire pit was the main home project that I completed during the staycation that Sara and I had together this past week. On Thursday, October 15th, we drove to Astoria to meet daughter Annie in a park for a socially-distanced, slightly delayed birthday get-together. Sara made cupcakes and we ordered a pick-up-lunch from a nearby Greek restaurant, Agnanti, one of the best Greek restaurants in Astoria. We got Annie a Lego Statue of Liberty because she told us she really liked building the Lego set from her favorite TV show, “Friends.” Putting thousands of pieces together, one-by-one, was a perfect, stay-at-home pandemic activity.
During the staycation, I’ve still been getting up too early. I never made it past 5AM any day this week. I also fade at night and can barely stay up past 9PM. I am becoming an old man. Sara and I are now into Season 4 of Schitt’s Creek. As noted in Quiz #84. 3 Emails, 3 Snail Mails and 1 Special Note , we still recommend “Ted Lasso,”a comedy on Apple TV.
This week, in his October 15th Understandably newsletter, Bill Murphy Jr. also recommended “Ted Lasso,” quoting from a wonderful article, “Ted Lasso Makes America Good Again” by Willa Paskin on Slate.
Ted Lasso is a big-hearted puppy dog of a series, an anti-cringe comedy where everything that seems like it might go wrong goes right instead. It’s counterprogramming for the state of the world.
“Ted Lasso” is certainly not a political comedy, but Paskin observes that the show has an important but subtle message that rings true during this time of uncertainty in the face of a re-emerging coronavirus and a divided nation in the middle of a contentious, seemingly out-of-control election.
The show vends a soothing vision of a red state–coded American as a kindly, gentle internationalist, as well as a world in which American soft power still works and does good, and an underestimated, know-nothing American can teach a bunch of foreigners a thing or two about the Beautiful Game and the game of life. On Ted Lasso, American innocence, humility, and heroism are all alive and well—and you don’t have to consciously notice any of that for it to bring you comfort.
Innocence, humility and heroism are all alive and well.
What if that’s the story of 2020?
What did not happen?
A. Anticipating a second wave, Sara has stocked up on baking products including yeast, flour and vanilla which were hard to come by in March and April;
B. As part of my staycation projects, I also cleaned out the garage, clearing a path to the inside switch for the motion-detector light that’s on the outside of the garage in the backyard—and which would otherwise turn on whenever we sat down or got up from the fire pit;
C. During the staycation, Sara and I went into the UPS store on a weekday to send birthday presents to Michigan for granddaughters Turner and Marin. Ted and Erica Facetimed with us this weekend and we watched as the girls opened and played with the gifts. Sara had wrapped Marin’s presents in pink and Turner’s presents in purple paper, Turner’s favorite color;
D. On a day trip this week, Sara and I took a fall foliage drive recommended by the magazine, New Jersey Monthly. It was a navigational time warp, Sara printed out the article which was a written account of which roads to take and the sites along the way. We got to the general area by using the GPS map on Sara's phone, but midway through, Sara pulled out an old, folded map of New Jersey that she keeps in the van. In folding it up, she recounted how her father, a World War II Navigator, always taught his children how to map out any family trip;
E. On our last day of the staycation, Sara and I drove to the Atlantic Highlands for a take out lobster dinner from our favorite seafood restaurant, Bahr’s. We ate it in a parking lot at nearby Sandy Hook, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.
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Want more?
Here’s the next quiz in the series: Quiz #89. “Covid-Good.”
Here’s the previous quiz in the series: Quiz #87. Coming Attraction?
Here’s the first quiz in the series: Quiz #1. Stella and Social Distancing, March 13, 2020
Here is an archive of all the quizzes.
The quiz is explained here: Steve’s Stay-at-Home Coronavirus Quiz.
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