At 8:30 AM this Sunday morning I was up on my feet and being walked, by Jane, to and fro on the redwood deck. In an ad from the 1960s, or maybe the 1970s, a cartoon figure laments that his get up and go got up and went. Very funny. Timelessly funny if one is terribly frank. Because that’s exactly the way I felt this morning. And, no, not timeless in any good sense of the word. More of the running out of time sense of the word. Certainly running out of the energy. And somehow trying to do it, make the five lengths of the deck that constitute an optimal 50% of my daily aerobic regime. And the other five lengths? Those are just concluded. Even as we speak, more or less. And why this terribly boring rehash of the physiological nuts and bolts that hold together the declining cripple? The answer, my friend, is not blowing in the wind. It’s right here: it’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to.

Let me point out that this was not an openly thrill-packed day. But what it lacked in excitement, it more than made up for in sushi. Yes, I made the infrequent trip down the hill to Messers Tekka House. I am not really boycotting the place. Just hoping that it becomes something more sensible. And it hasn’t. So if one’s wife is off in the suburbs teaching an Episcopalian confirmation class, what to do but roll down to have a yellowtail roll, a mackerel roll and so on?

When I first rolled in I was delighted to find that the 1 PM lunch hour crowd constituted more than me. Yes, it is a Sunday, but honest, people do live in Glen Park, and this being San Francisco, they have all manner of brunches. Anyway, there were two people at another table. And I found this reassuring. Pre-pandemic Jane and I would hit the place once a week. Sometimes sushi rolls, sometimes ramen. And no times cooking. Jane does an awful lot of the latter. She loves it, but any love is limited. We all need a night off. And that night was often at Tekka. We saw our neighbors there. We got out of the house.

Now that we have gotten out of COVID-19, and apparently into something else, the damage has been done. Restaurants like Tekka got emergency government money to stay afloat. Which was splendid. I can’t understand what happened next. Certainly work patterns changed. San Francisco’s downtown has been hollowed out in a way that no one could have imagined. But what does this mean for our neighborhood? Unfortunately, I am not young enough to know. I have been out of the workforce far too long. While I was having my rolls and miso soup and spinach salad, a delivery guy from GrubHub stopped in to pick up an order. So that accounts for some additional part of this, and any other restaurant, business.

And before the end of my luncheon stay, a family arrived. The wife speaking French, the English-speaking husband insisting that he didn’t want any fish. I have big ears. I overhear all sorts of things for better or worse. But going to a Japanese sushi house determined not to eat fish is like going to Argentina to avoid having steak. Whatever. At least I wasn’t alone, the initial couple having moved out into the sunny afternoon.

So why am I quasi-boycotting Tekka House? Because my lunch, with tip, came to $60. A modest lunch, at that. This is something I occasionally do, because Jane is away, and I feel like treating myself to something Japanese and fairly healthy. But it’s ridiculous. And I am certain that there are reasons for this ludicrous pricing. Business has fallen off. The proprietors are trying to make what money they can when they can. Can’t blame them. But this goes back to the other question. Where is everyone? Don’t people have lunch out anymore? Or dinners?

There is no doubt that COVID-19 is still around. Maybe people are legitimately concerned about getting the dreaded virus. But still. Without being able to explain it, I am just convinced that there has been some overall shift. Whatever it is, I’m also concerned that we are in collective, national denial about the pandemic. In these United States something like 1.2 million people died. Many of them unnecessarily. But there you have it. And do patronize your local restaurant. It’s the least, or the most, you can do.