Well, the Masters was supposed to start today. It’s been moved to November, which is strange, since the Masters signifies the beginning of spring, days getting longer and the opening of Riesling season. Now it will be in the fall, when the days get shorter and you start to think about whisky by the fire. In the scheme of what’s going on right now it’s low on the list of what’s important, but I think a lot of us are missing diversions and rituals we grew to love. Specifically things we looked forward to that meant a certain favorite time of year, whether it’s opening day of baseball season, Seder dinners spent with family, the cherry blossoms coming out, or whatever else.

If you know me you know I love the Masters. I’ve written about why here. I don’t really care about golf and I know it has a complicated history. But I love watching it the same way I love the Kentucky Derby or the Westminster Kennel Club (which I am currently boycotting until poodles stop winning best in show). I love Jim Nantz, Verne Lundquist on the 16th, and even the Masters official piano theme (which was written by a certain Dave Loggins, which seems like an autocorrect version of my name).

I’ve been lucky enough to go to Augusta the last couple years thanks to the generosity of my friend Jonathan. Both times I was with my good friend Michael Williams (who does love golf as you might have heard). It was a sweet time. He took these great photos on film there last year. If you want to hear something surreal (and you’ve literally run out of things to do) you can listen to me on the official Masters podcast, which is still one of the wild things of my life, (I also wrote this piece on manners for the Masters site).

That all feels like a long time ago. It feels a little empty these days. It is empty. In Manhattan most of the streets have no traffic, every car is a surprise. And it’s empty because of what we’re all missing in our lives. Hopefully they’ll be back in recognizable shape, and sooner rather than later. At this point normal looks better than ever.