The Thief of the Season

31 August 2020

On this the last day of August the sun rose at 7:02 AM.  It will set at 8:11 PM.  Tomorrow the same sun as hangs above me today will rise one minute later and then after thirteen plus hours set two minutes earlier.  Lansing Michigan is losing daylight at a rate of 3 minutes a day.  The Autumnal Equinox is but a mere 21 days away. The spinning of this orb is space is stealing the beloved light of summer at a pace I can barely stand.

Time is now just turned 8 PM. I can see golden light in the tall trees two houses away from me. The tops of those 4 stories plus giants are dusty golden.  The old neighborhood presents a scene pleasing to my senses. The temperature is 72 F with nary a bit of humidity.  A slight breeze is keeping the bugs at a distance. These conditions are just about perfect for writing.

Today was the last day of a cleaning spell that had overcome me.  The house has had its carpets shampooed. The sofa’s slipcovers have been washed, dried and returned to their places. Every box is in its place and everything loose is now in a box.  Not a stray paperclip remains out, all are either in a Ziplock bag in my desk or are attached to a magnet somewhere.  The damn cat is going totally nuts because all of her runs and hidey holes have been reconfigured. She will get over it. 

Feels good to impose order, albeit an artificial order on the things so want to wander and pile up on unsuspecting tables. I know when I go looking for that Moby Grape CD it will never be found.

Times are as times are always wont to dissolve into, conflict filled and angry.  I have been avoiding the noise-the static-the endless refusal to address the problems of our world that has been spewing out of the political juggernauts today.  Instead I picked up various things, toys, papers and other ephemera, and put them into boxes. As I worked, I found myself filled with memories.  As this day began, I was in a pleasant mindset because last night I watched a video of the Grateful Dead in Oregon called Sunshine Daydream.  The band that day was hitting on all eight cylinders and the music was transcendent. 

As I sit here, I am listening to the audio portion of the previously mentioned concert. Dark Star is wafting about me. The light has gone dusky orange, we are moving into the special time when all that was will be gone and all that will come is only promised. Such a short time between light and shadows. Such a short time between shadows and the darkness. “Dark star crashes…”

Perhaps it is time to communicate some things that I have been feeling.  I loathe and despise the President and all who serve as political appointees in his administration. QAnon is complete and total bullshit. Time has come for a reckoning for the injuries persons of color has suffered since the inception of slavery in this nation.  The Civil War did not right this situation.  The various civil rights acts did not resolve the hidden injuries of racism either. Old white people don’t want to share their pie with black and brown people.  They don’t want to share their pie with people who don’t love the same way they do either. Well, I think that has got to change.  I also think it needs to change now and not as some undefined time in a promised but distant future.

I don’t love Joe Biden as a candidate.  I don’t love the centrist portion of the Democratic Party.  I do however believe Donald J. Trump is an existential threat to our country.  I will not be quiet on this point from now until the election.  

If you disagree with me fine, block my posts up through the election.  If you come spewing MAGA nonsense at me I will unfriend you.  Our democracy means more to me that the FB friendship of people espousing unquestioning fealty to a man who cannot even articulate a simple vision for his hoped for next four years in office.  Hell, he can barely articulate a coherent sentence. Our republic has withstood many challenges but I have grave doubt it can survive this time if Trump is re-elected.  He is inept and insensitive and divisive.  

Time has come to take a side.  I will not be silent about the need to remove the vile and evil soulless wretch that is Donald Trump from the Office of President. We need to restore the norms of good government.

Dusty Brown Seed Pods

23 August 2020. Humid at 8:15 AM, Clear Skies and 2.5 Mile Walk Completed

Sitting on the back-porch with a fan blowing.  Hopefully the mechanical breeze will dry the perspiration from my quick wash/quick dry travel t-shirt.  Bought a bunch of these in anticipation of travel this year. Hah.

The sun has been up for about an hour.  I walked commencing just before the orb arose. Over a period of forty plus minutes I did not see another human out.  One growling dog made me aware of its presence. Teeth, snarl and an invisible fence, still I made my way to the other side of the street.

My walk took me past the tiny wetland I like to pass so much.  Over the past few months I have watched the flora change from petite blossoms to seed laden pods.  Each phase has a different kind of beauty.  The cycle is a thing to behold. The sun is setting far earlier and rising much later these days.

The seed pods’ presence say summer is near an end. Hard to believe we are this close to the conclusion of the season. Due to the pandemic life has been reduced to its essence, something just above survival mode.  Wash clothing. Wash dishes. Make meals.  Work in the garden. Sort stuff into things to save and things to jettison. Read the paper.  Post on Facebook.  At. Exercise. Order stuff from Amazon. Watch Netflix.  All in all, life has become quite encapsulated. 

Oh, and there is the daily health monitoring.  Each day I check my oxygen level, my pulse, my BP and my temperature.  So far all have been well within normal boundaries. Living in a pandemic is a different experience. 

Every single day I am checking on flights to Lisbon.  I am trying to make guesses as to when we Americans we be able to travel freely again, to when we are not international pariahs.  I am also trying to make a guess as to what life will be like when we travel next. Not an easy task 5 full months into the pandemic. Someday, somehow, it will get better.

Late summer makes me think of Tom Rush songs.  Thus, I will close with a favorite.  It is an instrumental. 

The Change of Seasons in a Pandemic

19 August 2020. 

It is 51° F as I head out to place one foot in front of the other for forty-five minutes. Time as I start today’s morning walk is 7:35 AM. The noted temperature, falls just a skootch this side of brisk. 51° F is a reminder that summer does not last forever here in here in Michigan. 

In two months’ time, pandemic or not, most of life will have moved indoors in Big Gretch’s state. To quote our governor, “It’s shark week motherf****r”. The social distancing space that patios and decks have provided me and thousands of others, will soon be closed up and gone for the year. People crowded indoors and poorly circulated indoor air will soon be upon us.

Come October I will no longer be a trustee on the pandemic work farm. I will no longer be allowed to walk around free to whatever place my feet might carry me.  Right now, my only limitation in my journeys is to not engage with others in a space of less than six feet. When winter’s first icy tendrils find their way here, having people over for a socially distanced get together on the deck will be ended.

We only had a short period this year when cool weather combined with the coronavirus to keep us really imprisoned. Coming into a full-on Michigan winter, with its ice, snow and subzero temperatures, there will be more isolation, more loneliness, more trepidation and more depression. Without a vaccine, this winter will be hard. Still, I have chosen not to place worrying about the coming winter high on my priorities. There is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

Instead of worrying about the future during these last weeks of summer, I will prioritize the joy from walking out in the golden hours of the day. I will prioritize doing those things that need to be done before the snow flies. This year my leaves will get raked up and take him to the curb. This year I will make sure that my roof is clear of debris. I will pull out the dead annuals before they are buried beneath 6 inches of snow. This year I will order my firewood early.

The pandemic has brought change; change I did not want. However, some of the changes are positive. There are many things I have learned that I do not need and can live without is the result of the pandemic. There are many wasteful habits that have been broken because of the pandemic. When the vaccine comes the world will be very, very different.

Come the vaccine most of the restaurants I used to eat that will be closed for good. There closures will have very significant economic impacts on those who own, work in and tax these restaurants. However, for me eating out is no longer a necessity, and for the most part not even a luxury I would choose. Stores on the fringes of life those that sell bangles and buttons and use books, they will all be gone too. I really won’t know which of those places I will miss until I am free to roam without limitation. However, I am sure many of them in their disappearance will cause me no harm.

By the time the harsh winds of November fall upon us we will be living in a much-changed world. Whether that world is better than the one we left in the winter of 2020 will ultimately depend on us. Let’s hope that we draw good knowledge and positive motivation from what we have experienced as we go forward.

Permanent Damage, Permanent Hurt

18 August 2020

Last night I was doing the dishes after a wonderful meal prepared by my wife.  I was listening to the algorithmically generated playlist called Get Up.  For the most part the list was hitting on all cylinders last night.  I bopped and dipped as I put dishes in the dishwasher and I sang along as I washed knives that should never go in the dishwasher.

A John Hiatt tune came on.  The song was one that I was not familiar with.  It was a tale of romantic matters not ending well and causing Permanent Hurt. There was a great hook and I found myself singing that phrase each time it came up.  Good stuff.

As I sang along my mind drifted to the fact that the Democratic National Convention would be on shortly.  I tend to not watch political spectacles.  This year my mind was in a different place. With the horror show that the current President has foisted upon America I promised myself I would watch some of the key speeches given each night.  

In a few short hours Michelle Obama would be on and she would point out the fraud and ineptitude of the current holder of the oval office.  But at the time I was rinsing the dinner plates this had not happened yet. 

Listening to the chorus of the Hiatt tune I could not help feeling that he was describing what will happen if we re-elect Donald Trump.  Considering the ecological waste, he has laid to this country and the destruction of social norms he has singled handedly wrought his re-election will cause permeant hurt to the fabric of our country. I am not thrilled with Joe Biden, but I am terrified of four more years with Trump.  I will vote for Joe.

Pandemic Dreams of Real Estate

13 August 2020

Bacon cooking, that smell is on the morning air today. Here I sit on my porch in warm humid air, dawn having passed not long ago. Scents of sizzling meat are drawn off of a neighbor’s stove, sent into this air by an efficiently functioning fan and vent. With that smell, and with the sound of some birds and an owl in the distance, it feels like I am ‘up north’ camping.

Most of my days are filled with things that should be done.  Mowing, washing, drying, etc., these are all high on my list.  Today will be no different. I will make myself read books and I allow myself to watch trash on TV.  Yes, I am so ashamed.  I watched a Jason Stratham movie last night on Hulu. Guns and car chases and fist fights, all things that in real life I abhor but on a small screen while I am trying to drift off to sleep, I love.

In the evening tonight when I have finished my third walk of at least of mile I will sit at this table and scroll through real estate listings.  What I need is a three-bedroom, two bath place, with close proximity to water.  In the best of all worlds it will have a terrace. None of the places I am looking at will be available when I decide it is safe to go, or when the various governments involved decide it is safe for me to travel. Still, mentally I can prepare in my mind an idea of what I want. Here is one example of what I am talking about.  https://www.idealista.pt/en/imovel/29854425/

Hey during these times of uncertainty we all need mental vacations, don’t we?  Mine is drifting into real estate dreams.

No News Sunday

The Writing Space Today

9 August 2020 Sunday

Awoke 6:30 AM.  Got up quickly and ate some raisin toast which was washed down with coffee.  Walked 2.12 miles averaging about 18 minutes a mile.  Air temperature was about 68 F.  With a predicted high of 90 F and high humidity, had to get this done.  

Got to the grocery store at 8 AM for curbside pickup pick up. Today was beverage day, milk, pop, half and half.  The visit went off without incident and we enjoyed a little country jaunt in our Outback on the way home.  

Got some laundry in the washer.  Got some dishes going in the dishwasher.  Amazon has already been here and the new items have been washed and put away.  Time to read and write.  

Haven’t been to church in a goodly long age.  Figured I had better do some reading in the sacred texts.  Found this in one translation of 1 Timothy 6, v 7-10, 17-18.

[W]e brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. If we have food and clothing, we will be content with that. Those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. The love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.

And, 

Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in the Divine, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share.

Given the status of negotiations in Washington over the Covid 19 supplemental relief I think the second paragraph needs to be read aloud in the Senate chambers today, and every single day, until a supplemental relief package is crafted.  We have elected these people to see after our health, safety and welfare, they need to get about their tasks with speed and diligence.

After the twists and turns of all things government and all things coronavirus over the past few days I need a break.  I hereby declare today No News Sunday.  My commitment to myself is to not open the news apps at any point in this day, unless I see ICBMs above, or people with torches and pitchforks here on the ground.  

Instead, I will drink coffee throughout the morning.  I will take a long soaking shower to wash of the perspiration from my morning walk. Maybe I will pack up a picnic and head out for an early afternoon drive.  I am reading two novels; I may bury my head in one or the other.  But the key here is don’t watch the news.  Don’t let the failures of others tie my guts up into knots.  The final fallback will be to scout for real estate in Portugal at any number of online sites.  I am going to make this a good day.  I hope you make this a good day too.

I decided to close this out with a hymn.  I decided we all needed some peace today.  This though sent me searching for a recording of Peace in the Valley. There are any number of great versions of this songs from people like Elvis to Jim Reeves, from Sam Cooke to Randy Travis.  I listened to a number of the covers and I really like Jim Reeves version,  But then I listened to Sister Rosetta Tharpe and it was just wonderful. Here it is, I hope you enjoy it.

Hitting the Pandemic Wall

7 August 2020

I am a great fan of news podcasts; my fandom was forced upon me.  Whenever I try and turn on a mainstream media news program these days, my family screams, “Turn that crap off!!!!” Thing is, I am stating much more politely than they do in real life.  Thus, as I walk in the morning, I listen to the podcasts in order to stay informed. After I have burnt through two or three of these programs, I am continuing to listen to Will Durant’s take on the Roman republic. 

As a side note, the Roman Republic discussion says a great deal about where things stand in America today. Durant asserts the loss of a communal national vision of societal goals, the overall shift in personal behavior from creating things to appropriating things, the increase in wealth disparity between the haves and the have nots, and the loss of the old nation unifying focus provided either by religion or stoic philosophy killed Rome.  Ah, if we look at our nation in the mirror, are we any different? Doesn’t it seem like we don’t have a unifying core set of beliefs anymore?  Doesn’t it seem like our political processes are no longer responsive to the needs of the common person?  Isn’t the wealth differential unconscionable? Sigh.

But back to the Pandemic Wall. According to the Make Me Smart podcase today, the New York Times reported in a recent article that last year in the pre-pandemic times, 1 in 12 adults suffered from an anxiety disorder.  Now, that number has bounced quite a way up.  According to the Kaiser Health folks the number of adults with anxiety stands at 1 in 3. Among black Americans that number climbs to 2 out of 3. People on a day to day basis have stresses and depressing moments in normal times.  However, when people look at how long the strains and existential threats of the pandemic will be part of daily life (for another year or more at minimum), many an individual’s mental health wagon loses a wheel.  

Being 64, and with some of those conditions that make Covid-19 deadlier, I am now sentenced to isolation.  The people in my household are also sentenced to that isolation to protect my wife and I.  Over the past few days I have been hearing repeatedly from sources I trust that we need to prepare for at least a year of wearing masks, social distancing and isolation.  Ugh.  I feel my mental health wheel coming loose.

Here is one of my more significant concerns. I live in Michigan.  At best, at very best, Michigan is 2 ½ months away from the first snow and then regularly freezing temperatures. Right now, in relatively warm weather, my prison of self-isolation includes my house, my yard and long walks through the neighborhood.  My prison’s exercise yard is thus expansive. With the exercise component days are currently bearable. When the weather constricts my exercise yard, life will be worse, much worse.

Come mid-October to late-November, my prison will shrink to the 2,200 hundred square feet inside the four walls of my house. This is the mental wall I hit yesterday.  I retired for activity, not for imprisonment. Obviously,I am going to have to dig deep to figure out how to soldier on through this. I have some ideas, and I will come up with a plan.  Still, right now, while I don’t feel anxiety I can see if from here.  I am also pretty sure from reading other friends’ Facebook posts I am not alone in this status.

The Pandemic Wall is a big bad cinder block ribbon standing in the way of our regularly scheduled lives. It is a bother, it is a burden, it can be crushing for those without work and with dwindling resources.  Still, I believe we can make it through this. Even isolated I think if we stay focused on the basics, good hygiene, masks and social distancing we can beat Covid 19 back, way back, until there is a vaccine.  Let us hope Operation Warp Speed delivers and delivers quickly.

But if it doesn’t….