Ten that toil where one reposes
One of the absolute worst-case scenarios here is that the pandemic plays out however it inevitably will and then we all go back to the normal we thought of as normal before. We’re all clear on that, aren’t we? The proliferation of arrest freezes and early releases for incarcerated people, the suspension of foreclosures and evictions, the waiving of copays for COVID-19 testing and treatment, the suspension of utility disconnections, the expansion of unemployment eligibility to cover those out of work due to exposure, quarantine, or business closure, the immediate expansion and implementation of work-from-home options, and so forth: All of these go to show that much of what we think of as “just the way things are” is in fact punitive and indefensible. This is not news. Disability advocates and people with chronic illnesses and equal housing advocates and universal healthcare advocates and black and brown people, those most affected by the quota-driven, race-motivated, carceral justice system, have been pushing for a long time for the elimination of these capital-driven systems that privilege individual profit over collective solidarity, to no avail. The cruelty, as they say, is the point.
The truth, as so many have said for so long, is that nobody deserves to die because they can’t afford healthcare. Nobody deserves to be homeless or houseless because they can’t pay a price determined by a market with no constraints on individual greed. Nobody deserves to live in less than human conditions, or to not be able to live at all, because other people are more invested in personal success according to a purely financial barometer than they are in lifting each other up.
The best-case scenario would have been containment, and that was never on the table. Though I can’t support this hypothesis with data, I suspect that COVID-19 has been in all 50 states since at least the beginning of this year. The best-case scenario now is that we take care of ourselves and others and never make the same mistakes, based on the dual American myths of individualism and exceptionalism, that made it impossible for people to see doctors, buy food, take time off work to recuperate from illness, keep the lights on and the water running, think about anything for one desperate moment other than how to make enough money to pay for any of the rest — for the basic right to live in generosity and not fear, in comfort and not scarcity. There is no excuse for us to do anything else, now that we know how artificial those imposed consequences are, and how easy it is to arbitrarily eliminate them.
Here in Cleveland, we’ve been doing our best to give money to local vendors who likely won’t financially survive a long shutdown and to share resources so that other people can do the same. The salon’s social media has become a way for us to share mutual aid resources and verified data. Here are a few places we’ve come to love and would like to see on the other side of this:
Larder, a 2019 James Beard Award semifinalist for Best New Restaurant — a deli and bakery with a three-person staff and the best sesame buns I’ve ever had. We stocked up on pastrami, fermented peas and ramps, gefilte fish, matzoh ball soup, sour cherry jam, and a jar of schmaltz.
Greg’s Produce at the West Side Market — fresh fruit and vegetables, morels and maitake. They’ve had our business ever since we found ramps for sale at their stall a few years ago, and though I don’t think they’ve had ramps in stock since then, they’ve become one of our regular stops, this time for parsnips and Brussels sprouts, sweet potatoes, oyster mushrooms, grapefruit, and fennel, winter flavors all.
LJ Shanghai in Asiatown (yes, much of Cleveland is so white that an entire continent is relegated to one neighborhood) — the best soup dumplings in town by a very long shot. They might have closed to weather the pandemic; I’m not sure. The last time we went in for takeout, people were still eating there, which was a relief. We were worried that people would be avoiding Asiatown. They might be, now. We talked to the owner, or perhaps the manager, who we know primarily as the woman with a booming voice and an outsize personality who welcomes us personally every time we go in and recognizes Dylan’s voice and order on the phone now. “We might not be open too long,” she said. “It’s scary out there.” We agreed and wished her the best.
Corner 11 in Tremont — the best tonkotsu in Cleveland, and possibly the only poke bowl. Salmon of a color I’ve only ever seen in Instagram filters, and a kitchen fully stocked to produce in-house pork kimchi, beef khao soi, khanom jeeb, yakisoba, and udon. We visited Corner 11 a few hours before, and then after, Gov. Mike DeWine (R-OH) ordered all bars and restaurants to close sit-down service and offer takeout and delivery only. It was that last beautiful afternoon, sunny and warm. A few people were still outside, walking their dogs. We promised the owner that we’d be back. I hope we still will.
We keep forgetting that we have unlimited spare time, at least for the moment, and need to find ways to fill it rather than ways to make more of it.
“I think I’m going to cook that chuck roast in the Instant Pot,” Dylan said earlier this afternoon. (Never have I been so grateful that we got married and received many generous gifts for our kitchen before the pandemic.) “If I wanted to cook it in the slow cooker, I should probably have started it… four hours ago.”
“Babe,” I said, “you can start it in the slow cooker tomorrow, because you know what else we have planned? Fucking nothing.”
“Oh, yeah!” he said, and made a moue. “Weird.”
Start that cooking project you’ve been putting off, and tell me what it is, if you want. Tell me what you’ve been listening to so that I can repeating the same playlists on loop. I’ll let you know what happens to the chuck roast. Right now, the kindness is the point; let’s make the most of it.
—R.