“Love in the Time of Corona” was the shortest miniseries I’ve ever watched. The four-episode series started August 22 and finished August 23. In a nutshell, Louie and I liked it and our reactions matched those of Joel Keller’s review that I just read. Of course, our fascination with it had all to do with Covid, especially because the pandemic inspired my own coronavirus diary. My diary’s common thread with the miniseries is a lightness in content, but at the same time facing the harsh realities of the pandemic -- hitting home in a universal way that readers/viewers can identify with as we live our day-to-day lives. As we shelter, isolate, and adhere to guidelines to keep the spread of coronavirus under control, a little humor goes a long way as we cope and recover.
It is times like this that challenge us to do things we’ve never done before and to not be afraid to venture down paths unknown. Light is usually at the end of the tunnel.
I described the miniseries to a friend as a toned-down version of “Modern Family,” a great cast, clever humor, and topics we care about: youth, love, marriage, getting older, parents, and relationships. Such a project was a first pandemic-era endeavor by the director, the actors (who live together in real life), and the crew. They pulled it off.
Even I connected with two scenes: Nanda sat alone at her kitchen table set for dinner that included her laptop so that she could FaceTime with her husband living at a board and care home with early-stage dementia. My late mother resided in a board and care home, too, with moderate dementia. I visited her every Sunday. I took her out for ice cream. We laughed and enjoyed the moment with each visit. “Are you my daughter?” Mom would ask me. “I’m your daughter, I’d reply with a smile. “If you say so,” Mom always replied with a shrug. As Nanda looked forward to celebrating their 50th anniversary with a big party, the look on her face knew otherwise.
Another scene made me laugh: Paul and Sarah are divorced, but because their daughter Sophie must return from college to live at home due to the pandemic, they decide to still live under the same roof because they don’t have the heart to break the news to Sophie. So, the parents start dancing silly-like in the living room and invite Sophie to dance with them – something they always did when she was a little girl. Sophie, aghast at first and embarrassed to see her parents behaving in such a way, gives in and joins in the fun. This reminded me of last New Year’s Eve when we decided for the first time in years to celebrate in style. We got dressed up and went to a small, lovely, intimate dinner house – where we dined often when Jacqueline was a little girl. There is no dancing at this subdued restaurant, but I think because we felt so at home we didn’t question staying until midnight – even though 90% of the guests had gone home before 11pm. But not us. The jazz duo was still playing instrumental numbers and the champagne was tasting better with each sip. It was New Year’s Eve, after all. Without hesitation, Jacqueline and I started burning up the carpet. Then Louie joined in. We had the best time in a practically empty restaurant.
It didn’t end there. When we arrived home, the spirit of New Year’s ensued. We put on music and the three of us danced our hearts away.
It’s our time to live the moment.
Washing Hands + Wearing a Mask + Social Distancing = Saving Lives