In the Zone

February 2026

I have a cold so I’m pondering my symptoms. Because it’s hard to think about anything else when you’re swallowing through sandpaper, your left ear aches while ringing like a storm siren, and your nose vacillates between running like a leaky faucet and being plugged like Rapunzel’s shower drain. I know these symptoms well, as I watched my whole family go through them systematically over the last few months. I thought I had eluded this perpetrator but have nonetheless, been apprehended. Now I’m being held prisoner under duress and expecting the torture to last for a week or so. That is, if I’m being held by the same viral culprit as my family was. Which is almost a certainty. 

It’s interesting how everyone handles illness differently. My daughter, as much as she likes getting taken care of and lying around, no longer has the time. She is a single mom and even when she is under the weather, she has to chase a five-year-old Energizer bunny around, that never stops. Even when he is sick.

My son likes to lay around and be babied. At least he once did.  He too has kids now and I imagine those responsibilities keep him from getting too much couch time.  My wife, when she is ill, quite simply just wants to be left alone. She is a very low maintenance patient. I, like the stereotypical male I am, want to be nurtured. I need someone to bring me a blanket, keep my water glass full, and make me Campbell’s Bean with Bacon soup with toast, like my mother did half a century ago. 

Typically, when ill and at home, I sequester myself. I go down into my basement family room, bundle up and watch reruns of really old shows like Gunsmoke, MASH, or The Odd Couple.  Or maybe I’ll queue up an old western. I generally prefer shows that give me comfort and allow me to rest my mind. Not making me think too much.

It’s a pity to be sick, but why not when there is nothing else to do anyway. Winter drones on like a reality version of The Twilight Zone.  Which just happened to be the show I chose on this day.  I decided to stream the original series, season one, that ran in 1959.  There were 36 episodes that year, which literally is amazing in itself.  On this day, I watched 20 of them, starting from the pilot. One right after another. It’s not a mindless watch, that’s for sure, but highly entertaining.

If you are unfamiliar with this show, the original The Twilight Zone ran from 1959–1964. So, it is an oldie but a goodie. In its time and even now, it is praised for its timeless and groundbreaking blend of psychological oriented sci-fi, and social commentary.  Seemingly, always providing an ending with an unpredictable twist.

It’s filmed in black and white, and flows at a nice, slow pace.  Each episode is only 25 minutes long, yet each also tells a very complete story. To me, there is no modern equivalent that can blend 1960s nostalgia and social commentary in such a simple way. It is just intellectually stimulating enough to provide the entertainment I prefer when I am ill or feeling a little down. It almost made me glad I was under the weather. Until I swallowed that is, or God forbid, I sneezed and my ears popped like I blew out an ear drum. 

On this particular day, I had a house full of grandkids upstairs, running around like a herd of antelopes. The noise they made as they ran around added another dimension to the shows I was watching. As if they needed that.  But I was happy to be away from the din, sequestered in my self-imposed isolation.  My mind was aglow with thoughts of the supernatural. 

Late in the afternoon, as I dozed in and out of sleep, I kept thinking I smelled the characteristic aroma of Campbell’s Bean with Bacon soup.  And possibly grilled cheese.  Which was made even more odd by the fact that I could barely smell anything, given my condition.  I smiled to myself; these must be echoes of the past that have been stored deep in my unconscious. Obviously caught up in the theme of the shows I had been watching, in my semi-comatose state. Regardless, I enjoyed the thought and sensation, continuing to drift in and out of sleep, with Twilight Zone episodes still mesmerizing me. 

At some point, I heard someone slowly opening the basement door and methodically walking down the stairs, which I could see at the distant side of the room. As I slowly looked up, my eyes clouded by sleep, I swore I saw my mother, as youthful and vibrant as she would have been 50 or 60 years ago, coming down the stairs with a steaming tray.  Slowly approaching, carefully balancing the dishes she had in her hand. Is this real?  My heart seemed to miss a beat as I stirred myself fully awake and rubbed my eyes. Rattled, to stay the least.

In the ultimate coincidence, at that very moment, the television murmured The Twilight Zone prologue; "There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call, the Twilight Zone."

As the apparent apparition came closer to me, I was barely breathing. My pains were absent.  My eyes slowly cleared to reveal that it was my daughter, approaching with a bowl of Campbell’s Bean with Bacon soup and a grilled cheese. I quickly regained my senses and thanked her for her kindness. She stared at me strangely, “Are you ok?” she asked. “Of course”, was my stuttered reply.  And as she walked away, I quickly scrambled for the TV remote and hurriedly changed the channel to the first thing I could find that wasn’t The Twilight Zone. I think I had reached my limit for one sitting.  I spent the rest of the afternoon watching Golf.

I slowly ate my soup and sandwich, pondering the paradox of life.  How echoes of the past can often seem to emerge in the present. Or, is there no such thing as past and present? Or, maybe nothing is real.  Or… Maybe… this is… all… just a dream?

Nah nay nah new, nah nay nah new…