I’ve noticed there are two types of coronavirus tweets: “people who were in New York City in April” and “people who weren’t in New York City in April.” The urgency/panic from those of us in that first catagory is because we saw a literal nightmare we’ll never forget In April I’d be on zoom calls with friends trying to explain how serious this was. The trucks of bodies. The nonstop sirens. Got the, “I feel bad for New York, but it’s not like that elsewhere,” schtick multiple times. Reasonable people wouldn’t listen.

Today is my first Father’s Day without my dad and, as advertised, it’s pretty miserable. As I sit here at my local neighborhood watering hole, I think it’s time to discuss what happened to me this past week. Settle in for a thread. It gets weird. Last weekend I went back to Missouri for the first time since my dad died suddenly in November. He didn’t want a funeral so I had no reason to go back and I’d been putting it off. I wrote about the trip on Friday, but I left out a big part: bit.ly/2JXTqZO