By Pattie Mihalik

How many of you remember the movie “On the Beach?”

It was a 1959 movie, but anyone who saw it will never forget it, especially the Coke bottle scene.

It was a futuristic movie about a nuclear holocaust that wiped out almost all life.

When a submarine commander heard faint radio signals, he followed the signals to San Diego, wanting desperately to find more humans.

Alas, the big shocking scene turned out to be a Coke bottle caught in a window shade instead of any form of life.

I haven’t thought about the movie for decades until this morning when I was taking my morning walk.

The streets were empty of people and it was as if the entire world shut down. I wanted to see some sign of life but it was like I was the only person left in the world.

While we were not in lockdown in Florida at that time, like the rest of the country we were told to shelter in place, especially if we are older or have an underlying medical condition.

“Shelter in place” sounds so much better than lockdown or house arrest. But believe me, after doing it for weeks, it feels the same.

I love my home and have often remarked that I wished I could spend more time in it just doing nothing.

Be careful what you wish for.

While those in my community seem to be staying indoors because we have an older population here, not everyone is doing it.

I look on our community Facebook page and see photos of people getting together for wine parties, boating or sharing a home meal. They claim they are following the guidelines if they don’t have more than 10 at a time.

For the most part, they are a lot younger and braver than I am.

By now we all know how contagious the coronavirus is and how easily it is transmitted.

The scary part is all the information about how long it stays on grocery carts and food packaging.

Health experts tell us to be especially diligent in supermarkets then wipe down everything we bring home, followed by washing the clothes we were wearing and showering.

When we do get brave enough to shop for needed groceries we find empty shelves. After all this time I thought panic buying would be over and I could buy the food I need.

Wrong again. Shelves are still empty. I went to three different supermarkets at different times of day. Still no bread. No milk. No meat and very little produce. Forget paper towels and antiseptic wipes.

I am completely stymied as to how to cook. I got caught with an empty freezer at a bad time.

Never did I think I would be without the basics to make meals.

My friend Jeanne told me she thinks I’m “obsessed about food.”

Well, yes. I’m obsessed with how to find it.

Fortunately my best friend Priscilla is coming to my rescue by telling me to go in her freezer and help myself to the two packs of frozen chicken breasts she has there because she won’t be back to Florida for six months.

Through all this frantic effort to buy meat and needed groceries, I keep thinking about my mother.

I always knew she was a strong, incredible woman but never, until this coronavirus crisis, did I fully appreciate how she created meals with next to nothing.

She was fond of saying if she had flour and eggs she could always feed her family. And peanut butter was always a staple.

When the mines closed down and my father couldn’t get a job I knew we were living on “next to nothing.”

But it wasn’t until an unfortunate incident with an uncharitable nun that the meaning behind “next to nothing” was brought home to me.

My fourth-grade nun, who wasn’t like the other wonderful nuns I had, told me I had to pay a quarter for a book. She said to go home and not come back until I had the quarter.

My mother went to my school to tell the nun how bad things were. Mom explained she only had a quarter to buy bread.

I’ve thought about that incident a lot through the years, wondering how my mother managed to put good meals on the table.

I know we never had meat unless my father managed to shoot a deer, rabbit or squirrel.

Before the incident with the nun, I never would have known how much my mother struggled.

I grew up with an appreciation for every little thing, taking to heart my mother’s warning not to waste a thing.

I’ve been thinking about my mom a lot during these hard times, wondering how she did it.

I’m also remembering stories my father told about being so hungry as a boy that he got sick when he tried to fill his stomach with crabapples.

I’ve never known that kind of hunger and probably you never have either.

I have always been grateful that I come from tough, resilient stock.

Even with a depleted food supply I have way more than my parents ever did.

I am grateful to God for the blessings he pours on us and the strength he gives us when we ask.

These are tough times, but we will get through them.

Contact Pattie Mihalik at newsgirl@comcast.net.