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Relating to characters stranded on islands

We’re all in the same boat, so the consensus seems to be.

But some of us are getting a bit more seasick than others.

Honestly, there are times during these abnormal living circumstances brought on by the coronavirus pandemic restrictions that I feel like a character in a movie or TV show.

Some days I identify with Tom Hanks’ character in “Castaway.”

Other days I’m maybe a little more like Mrs. Howell on “Gilligan’s Island,” in need of some serious retail therapy, Thurston darling.

Either way, there’s a lesson to be learned here, that life as you know it can change mighty quick.

And adjusting isn’t for sissies.

On “Castaway,” Hank’s character is on a plane that crashes, and he’s the lone survivor, stranded on this uninhabited island for four years.

He knows what it’s like to go for a l-o-n-g time without a proper haircut, which I understand, and he knows what it’s like to eat seafood every day, which is not so good because there’s no Bay Seasoning and no bubbly hot melted butter to dip it in.

He talks to an inanimate object, Wilson the volleyball.

I get that, too — volleyballs are pretty good listeners, especially if you’re going stir crazy not being around other honest-to-goodness human beings.

He put off seeking treatment for an abscessed tooth, figuring he’d get around to it, but ultimately discovering that DIY dentistry isn’t the best option.

Now I don’t avoid the dentist, but procrastination I’m guilty of as one who assumes there’s always time for this or that tomorrow.

When I last ate out in a restaurant, I smugly figured I’d be doing that again a whole lot sooner than I’d be a prolonged prisoner of my own kitchen, cooking no less.

A food freedom taken for granted. Never again.

On “Gilligan’s Island” at least the seven people stranded after a sight-seeing tour had each other without social distancing in place.

Like Mrs. Howell, though, I’m ready to be a consumer again, preferably minus the mask, although I’ll honor the recommendation.

Masks are so unfriendly. Who can tell you’re even attempting to smile unless your crow’s feet are especially crinkly?

And now there are one-way aisles and do-not-enter signs.

I envision myself some day giving a living history presentation. Younger people will gather at my feet, and I will tell them what it was like to live in pre-COVID-19 days.

We hugged. We shook hands. We went to crowded places. We bared our faces.

I can anticipate their wonder and disbelief. I hope that’s not any time soon, though.

I prefer to “cast away” that scenario and paddle back to some semblance of normalcy, to civilization.

(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted atjkiaski@heraldstaronline.com.)

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