The Game of Jab

 Since January, my obsession has been getting Covid vaccines for my family. The government said to simply wait -- they would decide who gets the coveted jabs, and when. Well -- I'm my father's son, and he taught me well, after nearly 4 years in the US Army, that you alone are responsible for your own survival. More -- my in laws are living proof that often which line you choose to get on can have enormous consequences.

My father in law's tales of derring do in surviving the Holocaust are filled with examples of not simply doing what one is told. So that's my bent.

I was able to shuck and jive, to use an outdated term, and get myself jabbed in January. D1 has a health care license, and she got hers. Wifey's jab is a story unto itself -- but she's fully protected. And Joey, through a glitch in a supermarket site, got his first jab last week. My consuegros are all jabbed.

The remaining jab-less were D2 and Jonathan. I was least worried for them -- young and healthy, and Jonathan HAD Covid back in December -- just a few days of feeling unwell, and then tested negative. D2 never got infected, despite her lack of quarantine. But still they were large on my plate of worry.

Well, the absurdity of inconsistent vaccine criteria reached a pinnacle last week. Some sites accepted doctors' notes about high risk, and some required a state issued form. I saw on the news that a new FEMA site in North Dade had short lines, and alerted my friend Norman. He scored a state issued high risk form from a nephew, and was able to get his jab.

Just about all of our other close friends, either by being doctors, married to them, or various other forms of shucking and jiving, also were vaccinated.  But not D2 and Jonathan.

And then, news junkie that I am, saw through Twitter that Jackson Health took the lead last night. They opened up their sites to anyone over 16 who would self certify they were high risk. In other words, essentially everyone and his brother. I immediately called D2. The web site was crowded, but she and Jonathan got through -- appointments for them this am. Assuming these go off without a hitch, I will be greatly relieved.

As Anton Chigurgh said in "No Country For Old Men," it is the best I can do.

My nephew of another brother, Scott, has had a pro bono side hustle since the jabs became available: getting appointments for old people he knows. He got his mother, aunt, and grandmother all jabbed at various sites. His brother Josh, my other nephew of another brother, has an appointment this week.

Luckily, the hustler was himself rewarded -- last week Maryland opened their program to journalists, so Scott and his lady Samantha took a drive into the countryside and got their first vaccines. Another relief.

Jerry Garcia had no idea when he sang about a long, strange trip. This past year has been that, to say the least. In three days, I celebrate an anniversary: last time I was out, inside a restaurant. I met Stuart and Allison for pizza and drinks, on Brickell, March 12, 2020. The next day, Wifey and I started our bubble.

Paul asked for my prediction -- when would this all pass? I declared May or June. It may be I was right about the month, just a year premature. I guess we'll see.

I still have that first overnight vacation in my sights: Key West in July, when I turn 60. I'm hoping it happens -- I figure by May, I ought to know, and can do the small planning for it. If not -- that's ok, too.

Baseball and boxing are the two most written about American sports. Boxing because of its obvious gladiator, mano a mano nature, and baseball because of it's life's metaphors. One of the most stated, for all the teams that don't win the World Series, is "There's always next year."

And so it may be with these times of living in the plague. At least after today, hopefully, as for my nuclears -- the jabs should be done.