I swear it does. Maybe it's from hearing Fauci say (yesterday) that it's suddenly OK to not wear a mask outside, or knowing that millions of people are actually getting vaccinated every day, or that the Oscars are finally over, in all their overwroughtness (new word) and maybe we can go back to second-guessing something else now. But whatever it is, the air on Hollywood Boulevard feels different -- new, alive, but somehow not even born yet. Yeah, that's it - pregnant with possibility.
This blog post is slightly more personal than my old ones used to be. I stopped posting here during the pandemic because it didn't seem right to blather on. (Oh, great, now I can start blathering again.) But in fact, things now feel more personal in general. It seems likely we all--we lucky ones who did--just got through the worst time most of us can remember. Not having lived through the Spanish Flu, or the Great War, or the Great Depression, or the Second World War ... and it was a profound experience to share with ourselves, wasn't it?
You know those old disaster movies, usually with Shelley Winters, when at the end everyone has become intimately close, having experienced near death and helped each other through one terrifying crisis after another? Like that. Now we can all take a deep, cleansing, grateful breath together in this new air, feeling like we know each other better than we ever did before. Here's to us.