1.
I've been writing a few articles about the Covid-19 epidemic for future generations, ("Notes from the Grave," Desultory Diary entries 13 and 14), entry 15, namely this one, is a little different, addressing those in the present as well.
We are in the midst of a terrible pandemic, the kind none of us, not even centenarians, have experienced in their lifetime. Most of us--or at least many of us, are doing our best to "shelter in place" a recently coined phrase that signifies, basically, that we all should stay home and stay six feet away from each other. My wife and I, senior citizens, and therefore in the highest risk group for a negative outcome, (that is, the negative outcome), are doing our best, though, admittedly, the six-foot rule has become, between the two of us, a six-inch one.
Many people, especially, younger ones, interpret "Shelter in Place" to mean "Turn the Other Cheek": that is, give your neighbor, metaphorically at least, une bise complète. Many are cavorting in Florida, enjoying their spring break. They are supposed to be staying at home, preferably alone.The reason for doing this has been to protect codgers like me from getting sick, but there is now evidence that young people can have serious sequelae from the virus as well. China, a country that has done a lot to curtail the spread of the virus, now has few new domestic cases. If a drone over Miami Beach requested young people to go home, do you think they would come out of the water? Don't they realize that we're in hot water already?
My wife, a pediatrician, has gone to work today, but will severely curtail her practice after that. (She will remain home next week and offer telemedicine and phone service only. We will have to figure out what to do after that.
Living in what I now call "a first/Third World country," an unadvanced advanced country that has diddled while the virus spreads. I am frustrated. Still not enough tests. How can we get a handle on a weight the mass of which remains unknown?
The stock market continues to tank; we are most likely heading for a severe recession. We will soon, I think, see unemployment rates unseen since 2008.
No one knows--except you, dear readers of the future--how long this is going to last. Schools, libraries, gyms, universities, theaters, movie houses--even Amazon--are all closed. We--those of us who follow the guidelines--have a lot of time on our hands. The shutdown is only in its initial stages.
What to do? That is the subject of the rest of this little essay.
2.
Well, I shall relate only how one man and woman are passing their time. It is probably representative of few others, although some of our strategies might overlap.
The closing of gyms has affected us. In normal times, Nirmala went to the gym three times a week, while I, who have more leisure, went about five times. We took yoga classes, spinning classes, step; we did weights and used various machines. We had--and hope to have again--a substantial social network at LA Fitness. I can understand when someone said, "I used to go to church, now I go to the gym"--except we, as one might assume who has read my blog regularly, never went to church.
We take walks, one of the best remedies against cabin fever we know. The weather was quite springlike today, almost summer-like, (in the seventies). The cherry trees are in bloom, daffodils are everywhere--and, as I expressed once in a poem, yellow is enough. Branches, like us, have their burdens, but they sure bear them well. Here is a picture of a magnolia tree that we passed by today. We will miss visiting the cherry blossoms in Washington; neighborhood magnolias will have to do, and they do do nicely:
We listen to music, all types. And I play and practice music on the piano as well.
My son Philip helps us a lot. It won't be long before we'll run out of perishable food--toilet paper? Don't bring that up. We don't need much; we're also not hoarders.
I needed a break, so I didn't follow the news closely today. I streamed a clip, though, of the Red-Hatted Wonder who chewed up a reporter for asking him if he had anything to say to anxious Americans regarding the pandemic.Thin-skinned as a centenarian, Trump interpreted this soft-ball question as an attack on his performance.
There are now over 18,000 cases in the United States, and over 200 deaths. Tests are still in short supply. And we, apparently, haven't seen anything yet.
And, oh, yes, I meditate twice daily.
Cicero once said that life is like being chained to a chariot. One then has two choices: to fall down and be dragged or to run and keep up with the horses. At the moment, we're running. even sometimes enjoying the scenery as we go. We don't get tired; after all, it's just metaphor.
3.
One of the main ways I pass the time is reading. I just finished Yuval Noah Harari's Sapiens, which I found fascinating. Will write a review.
I've averaged about a book a week since I had my cataract surgery in November. Before that, I struggled with glasses and a magnifying glass. Reading is easier for me now, and I read faster.
A partial list of books I've recently read: Dirty Money by Jane Mayer, an impressive eye opener about the nefarious behavior of oligarchs; The Sixth Extinction, by Elizabeth Kolbert, fascinating as it is sad--as I asked the future generation in a previous blog, 'Are there still giraffes?' probably not; unless genetic manipulation brings them back, an intervention detailed in another book I very much enjoyed, A Crack in Creation: Genetic Editing and the Unthinkable Power to Control Evolution; The Ape Within, by Frans de Waal; The Age of Empathy, by Frans de Waal; Killing Commendatore, by Haruki Murakami--a vintage Murakami novel; There There, by Tommy Orange; Un Chemin de Tables by Mayles de Karngal; Weit Über das Land, by Peter Stamm--a very moving novel, in English: To The Back of Beyond; On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous, an interesting novel by the poet Ocean Vuong; How We Got to Now, by Stephen Johnson, an excellent read.
I've provided the list for three reasons. First and foremost, it serves as an example of how one man is spending his time. Second, it might serve as an inspiration to others--what works for me might work for you. Third, it allows me to ask a question of future readers of this blog: how many of these books are still read? Stamm's and Murakami's novels, probably--one or both might well have received a Nobel Prize by (your, future readers) now.
If there is a silver lining to this cloud of unknowing, it is that the virus, by attacking humans, has thereby reduced the degree to which we are attacking nature. Pollution is down, at least somewhat. The big guzzlers of fossil fuel, such as cruise ships and airplanes, have been sidelined. If virtual eyes could gaze down from an empty Ponte di Rialto, they would see signs that fish have returned to the canals. The silver lining is that we have been forced to live more simple lives, something, in light of global warming, we have to do. I have no doubt that we will return to our destructive ways once this crisis is over; it provides proof, however, that simple, less selfish living is possible. For some people, however, the silver lining quickly turns to lead. I've read today about the summary dismissal, without any type of severance pay, of airport personnel. Those who live from paycheck to paycheck are in trouble. It is incumbent, not only on government, but on the rest of us who are able financially to survive, to help them out.
And, of course, writing is another way I keep busy, including writing this blog.
I would be interested to hear from others regarding how they're getting through the mess we're in.
I hope you are all well and remain that way. I can only complain of a low-grade fever. (I'm being metaphorical again; I'm referring to a mild case of cabin fever).
To Be Continued
I've been writing a few articles about the Covid-19 epidemic for future generations, ("Notes from the Grave," Desultory Diary entries 13 and 14), entry 15, namely this one, is a little different, addressing those in the present as well.
We are in the midst of a terrible pandemic, the kind none of us, not even centenarians, have experienced in their lifetime. Most of us--or at least many of us, are doing our best to "shelter in place" a recently coined phrase that signifies, basically, that we all should stay home and stay six feet away from each other. My wife and I, senior citizens, and therefore in the highest risk group for a negative outcome, (that is, the negative outcome), are doing our best, though, admittedly, the six-foot rule has become, between the two of us, a six-inch one.
Many people, especially, younger ones, interpret "Shelter in Place" to mean "Turn the Other Cheek": that is, give your neighbor, metaphorically at least, une bise complète. Many are cavorting in Florida, enjoying their spring break. They are supposed to be staying at home, preferably alone.The reason for doing this has been to protect codgers like me from getting sick, but there is now evidence that young people can have serious sequelae from the virus as well. China, a country that has done a lot to curtail the spread of the virus, now has few new domestic cases. If a drone over Miami Beach requested young people to go home, do you think they would come out of the water? Don't they realize that we're in hot water already?
My wife, a pediatrician, has gone to work today, but will severely curtail her practice after that. (She will remain home next week and offer telemedicine and phone service only. We will have to figure out what to do after that.
Living in what I now call "a first/Third World country," an unadvanced advanced country that has diddled while the virus spreads. I am frustrated. Still not enough tests. How can we get a handle on a weight the mass of which remains unknown?
The stock market continues to tank; we are most likely heading for a severe recession. We will soon, I think, see unemployment rates unseen since 2008.
No one knows--except you, dear readers of the future--how long this is going to last. Schools, libraries, gyms, universities, theaters, movie houses--even Amazon--are all closed. We--those of us who follow the guidelines--have a lot of time on our hands. The shutdown is only in its initial stages.
What to do? That is the subject of the rest of this little essay.
2.
Well, I shall relate only how one man and woman are passing their time. It is probably representative of few others, although some of our strategies might overlap.
The closing of gyms has affected us. In normal times, Nirmala went to the gym three times a week, while I, who have more leisure, went about five times. We took yoga classes, spinning classes, step; we did weights and used various machines. We had--and hope to have again--a substantial social network at LA Fitness. I can understand when someone said, "I used to go to church, now I go to the gym"--except we, as one might assume who has read my blog regularly, never went to church.
We take walks, one of the best remedies against cabin fever we know. The weather was quite springlike today, almost summer-like, (in the seventies). The cherry trees are in bloom, daffodils are everywhere--and, as I expressed once in a poem, yellow is enough. Branches, like us, have their burdens, but they sure bear them well. Here is a picture of a magnolia tree that we passed by today. We will miss visiting the cherry blossoms in Washington; neighborhood magnolias will have to do, and they do do nicely:
We listen to music, all types. And I play and practice music on the piano as well.
My son Philip helps us a lot. It won't be long before we'll run out of perishable food--toilet paper? Don't bring that up. We don't need much; we're also not hoarders.
I needed a break, so I didn't follow the news closely today. I streamed a clip, though, of the Red-Hatted Wonder who chewed up a reporter for asking him if he had anything to say to anxious Americans regarding the pandemic.Thin-skinned as a centenarian, Trump interpreted this soft-ball question as an attack on his performance.
There are now over 18,000 cases in the United States, and over 200 deaths. Tests are still in short supply. And we, apparently, haven't seen anything yet.
And, oh, yes, I meditate twice daily.
Cicero once said that life is like being chained to a chariot. One then has two choices: to fall down and be dragged or to run and keep up with the horses. At the moment, we're running. even sometimes enjoying the scenery as we go. We don't get tired; after all, it's just metaphor.
3.
One of the main ways I pass the time is reading. I just finished Yuval Noah Harari's Sapiens, which I found fascinating. Will write a review.
I've averaged about a book a week since I had my cataract surgery in November. Before that, I struggled with glasses and a magnifying glass. Reading is easier for me now, and I read faster.
A partial list of books I've recently read: Dirty Money by Jane Mayer, an impressive eye opener about the nefarious behavior of oligarchs; The Sixth Extinction, by Elizabeth Kolbert, fascinating as it is sad--as I asked the future generation in a previous blog, 'Are there still giraffes?' probably not; unless genetic manipulation brings them back, an intervention detailed in another book I very much enjoyed, A Crack in Creation: Genetic Editing and the Unthinkable Power to Control Evolution; The Ape Within, by Frans de Waal; The Age of Empathy, by Frans de Waal; Killing Commendatore, by Haruki Murakami--a vintage Murakami novel; There There, by Tommy Orange; Un Chemin de Tables by Mayles de Karngal; Weit Über das Land, by Peter Stamm--a very moving novel, in English: To The Back of Beyond; On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous, an interesting novel by the poet Ocean Vuong; How We Got to Now, by Stephen Johnson, an excellent read.
I've provided the list for three reasons. First and foremost, it serves as an example of how one man is spending his time. Second, it might serve as an inspiration to others--what works for me might work for you. Third, it allows me to ask a question of future readers of this blog: how many of these books are still read? Stamm's and Murakami's novels, probably--one or both might well have received a Nobel Prize by (your, future readers) now.
If there is a silver lining to this cloud of unknowing, it is that the virus, by attacking humans, has thereby reduced the degree to which we are attacking nature. Pollution is down, at least somewhat. The big guzzlers of fossil fuel, such as cruise ships and airplanes, have been sidelined. If virtual eyes could gaze down from an empty Ponte di Rialto, they would see signs that fish have returned to the canals. The silver lining is that we have been forced to live more simple lives, something, in light of global warming, we have to do. I have no doubt that we will return to our destructive ways once this crisis is over; it provides proof, however, that simple, less selfish living is possible. For some people, however, the silver lining quickly turns to lead. I've read today about the summary dismissal, without any type of severance pay, of airport personnel. Those who live from paycheck to paycheck are in trouble. It is incumbent, not only on government, but on the rest of us who are able financially to survive, to help them out.
And, of course, writing is another way I keep busy, including writing this blog.
I would be interested to hear from others regarding how they're getting through the mess we're in.
I hope you are all well and remain that way. I can only complain of a low-grade fever. (I'm being metaphorical again; I'm referring to a mild case of cabin fever).
To Be Continued
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