The arrival of Santa Claus via riverboat in Petaluma is a big deal around here, and honestly, it's a big deal for me, too. It's the closest thing I have to a holiday tradition here in Petaluma, while I sit and think of luminaria and faralitos and Canyon Road and snow...
Anyway, it's today.
And I won't be there.
I'm not sure if there was an event last year (since I was in the O.C.), but COVID-19 is still pretty high on my list of worries. Sure, this is an outdoor event, but people are packed in like sardines along the rail overlooking the river, and a crush of kids waiting for Santa (likely mostly unmasked and unvaccinated) makes the event less than appealing for me.
In all fairness, were I in Santa Fe I'd have to figure out Canyon Road. Generally the best way to deal with traffic and parking that night is to park at the train station, then take a bus down to Canyon Road. multiple busses run continuously all evening, but still manage to be packed so tightly your puffer jacket is compressed into a thin sheet. That would also be a great big "nope" from me this year.
I have tickets to a tea in Santa Rosa on the 19th. Honestly, I'm slightly terrified to go. The tickets were expensive, and it might be the only time I see my son-in-law over the holidays, so the plan is to stick to the plan, but I have to admit, "Omicron" is playing through my head more often than "Earl Grey" or "Assam".
Even as a confirmed introvert, I find the prolonged pandemic to be trying. My joie de vivre has been centered around my attendance at various cultural fairs, holiday events, and going to zoos, aquariums, and museums when financially feasible. There has been very little in the way of joie de vivre for me these days. Most days I feel like I'm just burning time to get to the next day, to burn time and get to the next... until at some point it feels safe to resume life as it was.
Part of me has long suspected that post pandemic life, should it ever arrive, will not be the same as pe-pandemic life, and I need to make some sort of profound change in how I live my life, including but not limited to how I celebrate. Adaptations to more solitary lifestyles may have seemed maladaptive until now, but now it feels more a matter of survival. I understand why people, sick of the feeling of isolation, are going out and gathering during a surge in a highly contagious and high mortality disease. I feel for those who are not introverts, who thrive only in social (now high risk) gatherings, who need the contact of a social circle or large family gatherings to feel secure and/or happy.
I understand why the walkways along the Petaluma River will be packed today, and why, on the same day news breaks about the concern for a new and possibly vaccine resistant strain of a virus that has killed millions of people worldwide, people would gather together for a few minutes of Christmas cheer and hope.
I will try to find such cheer and hope elsewhere today.
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