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North OF THE River

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North OF THE River

‘I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille’

By
A Column By Barb Walter

Every day is a new day for me in these times, especially the world of covering virtual public meetings.

Hennessey’s town hall staff had a test run Wednesday to make sure everyone would be able to communicate Thursday night at the town’s first-ever video conference meeting.

I got the notice a couple of hours before the test, and set my cell phone timer.

It was easy to log on, and pictures popped up on my computer screen. I could see everyone. Then I realized they could also see me.

Holy cow!

Thankfully I wasn’t in my pajamas because Jill (daughter from another mother) was coming that day.

She’s used to my bushy sheltering-at-home hair, but I hadn’t exposed it to the big screen, until that afternoon.

Soon I realized that people were talking, but I couldn’t hear them.

“I can’t hear you!” I yelled at the computer screen.

Town Manager Tiffany called me on my cell phone and said I needed to turn on my sound button.

I couldn’t find it.

Jill was nearby and pointed to where I was supposed to click.

It worked, and after a few minutes we all hung up, or whatever you call it. That’s when I told Jill, “I didn’t know everyone would see me.”

“Yet you thought you’d be able to see them?” she asked.

“Yes, I guess I didn’t … think.”

I was ready the next night for the real virtual town meeting. I ironed my hair, put on lipstick and blush, and even mascara. The meeting was over in 20 minutes, but it took longer, and my last Dr Pepper, to write the story.

By Saturday I was in caffeine withdrawals. Cabin fever after a week of sheltering at home didn’t help. So I got dressed, brushed my hair, and was ready to go to the store for more pop.

Then Momma must have channeled me. She never left the house, not even to go to the grocery store, without putting on her Fire and Ice red lipstick. I put on some lipstick.

Once in the store parking lot I became anxious and put on my mask, and rubber gloves.

I checked myself out in the rearview mirror and laughed, but only for a second. I miss Momma every day, but I’m glad she isn’t here to see that masks have replaced lipstick.