No, kids, this is a horror story about the Great Pandemic of 2020. The year started off just like any other, you're father and I ordered a pizza from our favorite little Italian fast food joint, "Papa John's" (spoken in a true Italian accent for dramatic effect). Now, not to confuse you with our favorite Italian dine-in, Gorozzos (spoken in a true Italian accent for dramatic effect), or our favorite Non-Italian but serves quirky Pizza dine-in, Grinders (spoken normally); because let's be honest their Bengal Tiger Za RULES! As I was saying, your father and I had just settled down and were looking forward to bringing in the new year from the comfort of our living room, when suddenly we felt the weight of our eyelids casually droop... And kids, to be totally honest we didn't wake up until the next morning.
Okay, so we missed the huzzah, but I imagine had we not fallen asleep that night would have gone something like this...
Me: I'm bored and hungry.
Alex: WE JUST ATE!
Me: WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS YELLING?!
Alex: BECAUSE YOU EAT EVERYTHING IN THE HOUSE!
Me: Wanna go to Hy-vee?
Alex: Yeah, let's go.
Your father and I bring home a grocery bag full of Salt &Vinegar chips, diet coke, and sour gummy worms to satiate us over the next few hours until Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve count-down begins.
Me: Dick looks good this year.
Alex: I'm pretty sure he died.
Me: Then who's that guy? (pointing to some guy in the corner of the screen)
Alex: That's definitely not Dick Clark.
Me: RIP Dick, RIP
Ryan Seacrest (Off-screen): Live from Times Square, the count down begins! 10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.
HAPPY NEW YEAR, TO YOU AND YOURS! HUZZAH!
Everyone (off-screen): HUZZAH!
Alex and I (together): PIZ-ZAH! (as we gingerly cheers the tips of our pizza slices)
Meanwhile, in China, law enforcement is stun-gunning and ticketing pedestrians in the streets for leaving their homes.
But here's what really happened, the next morning your father and I woke up still hazy from the Papa John's (spoken in a true Italian accent for dramatic effect) we consumed the night before, but with Oreo's defiant roar ringing through our ears we quickly got up and dressed and made our way to our local Hy-vee to pick up my favorite coffee and his favorite cat food. The two T must-haves to keep mama and kitty from going bat shit crazy on your father. As we're checking out, the morning trades caught my eye. As I recall, every magazine cover was riddled with Flappers, Bootleggers, Gangsters, and Suffragists. Every paper and tabloid in stores and on stands between January 1 to Feb 15 had some sort of wild, ney, promiscuous call-back to the Roaring Twenties. Kids, those trades filled US consumers with such inspiration and excitement, excitement to birth a new '20s, one with promise and desire to revive the greatest history from our past while benchmarking the horizons of our future. But by the end of February, all that hype came to a crashing halt.
More on that later.
