These are strange times, indeed. We have been confined to our home, my wife and I, for almost one month. Our governor, ordered a so-called "lockdown" on March 30, but we had been
sheltering-in-place since about two weeks prior to that decree. We are lucky to have the involvement of our son Philip; although he doesn't visit us, he orders food which he has delivered to our door. One of his friends picked up some groceries for us as well. Even one person in our neighborhood offered to help; this surprised us, even though we are among the oldest folds around. Nirmala and I go to her work at least once a week; she still takes calls and does some telemed sessions. She will see a few patient in two days from now, since immunizations must be reasonably kept up to date, not to mention the importance of seeing very young patients on a regular basis.
We take occasional walks in the neighborhood as well. The indifference of nature has kindly declined to put off spring, which is in its full glory.
A photo of magnolias taken during one of our neighborhood walks
We hardly see any traffic on our walks. Passers-by are usually walking their dog or doing their parental best to expend the energies of their kids, so that everyone just might be able to sleep through the night. At the beginning of the crisis--can that only be a few weeks ago?--people didn't maintain a safe distance from each other, but they do now. When someone approaches, we give each other a wide berth as we pass, necessitating that some of us walk in the street to avoid close contact--we avoid each other as if we had the plague--a lethal infection, of course, is a distinct possibility. We usually give each other a hearty hello as we pass, a welcome token of our humanity, which, if anything, has increased during the crisis.
I feel a little guilty, since we are doing fairly well, despite all the difficulties so many face. Being old and retired is a type of lockdown in itself; I've been out of compensated work for nearly ten years. This was difficult at first, but I have adjusted fairly well. But what about all the people of working age, especially those with families? I thought of doing some volunteer work, but that fact that I'm old with a lot of pre-existing health conditions gives me pause. I'm just going to have to do something--I did some work before the pandemic, but those agencies have temporarily closed down.
I think of Milton's wonderful line from his sonnet, On His Blindness: They also serve who only stand and wait. He was waiting for God, who has been godot-ing his arrival for centuries; we are merely waiting for a significant diminution of the possibility of coughing to death. We might not be able to breathe freely, however, until a vaccine is developed.
Used to working at home, I've been reading a lot, writing a lot and playing, even composing, music a lot. Here are the videos I've posted in the last five days:
1. "Golden Leaves" by the Bulgarian composer, by Dimitar Ninov
2. "Let's Open Every Business" An angry response to the Lt. Governor of Texas's suggestion that we should return to work even if many older people would have to sacrifice themselves to keep America (the stock market) riding high.
3, "When Septuagenarians Sniffle," to the tune of "This Ole House."
4/ God and the Coronavirus, original composition
These recordings are admittedly of poor sonal quality. My son has helped me in the past with sound quality and illustrations--maybe he can work on these once the crisis is over.
I have nothing against people who are spending their time by binge-watching a series on Netflix, etc.--my days are filled with other things. Sure, we watch an occasional movie or watch HBO programs such as Real Time with Bill Maher, Curb Your Enthusiasm, and Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, but not much more than that. I do, however, try to watch an hour of news in Spanish almost every weekday night.
It is great to have Nirmala at home.
I've been taking a one or two day break from most of the news--watching our orange bully of a president continue to harm our country is dispiriting. But I can't keep away from politics for long.
Since the onset of the crisis I haven't shaved. I look ridiculous.
Shaking hands, of course, is out. Fist bumps as well. Some are elbow-tapping, a greeting invented to help one escape death in a friendly manner.
I've decided to namaste those I encounter. Putting palms together, greeting another while bowing slightly, is an ancient Indian custom. Few do it in India, however; most greet each other verbally. When I was in a rural area of the Dominican Republic I greeted everyone, and departed from everyone, with a zesty hug. In India, nobody touches during an encounter. So I was a little bit confused. (One time I hugged a woman who let me know she didn't like it). I like the Dominican tradition, but, for now at least, I'm reverting to an Indian custom which the majority of Indians do not follow. A white man doing namaste might make him look idiotic, but, as I fervently hope, my appearance in this case may be deceiving.
I will close now with a hearty namaste to everyone! Keep well.
sheltering-in-place since about two weeks prior to that decree. We are lucky to have the involvement of our son Philip; although he doesn't visit us, he orders food which he has delivered to our door. One of his friends picked up some groceries for us as well. Even one person in our neighborhood offered to help; this surprised us, even though we are among the oldest folds around. Nirmala and I go to her work at least once a week; she still takes calls and does some telemed sessions. She will see a few patient in two days from now, since immunizations must be reasonably kept up to date, not to mention the importance of seeing very young patients on a regular basis.
We take occasional walks in the neighborhood as well. The indifference of nature has kindly declined to put off spring, which is in its full glory.
A photo of magnolias taken during one of our neighborhood walks
We hardly see any traffic on our walks. Passers-by are usually walking their dog or doing their parental best to expend the energies of their kids, so that everyone just might be able to sleep through the night. At the beginning of the crisis--can that only be a few weeks ago?--people didn't maintain a safe distance from each other, but they do now. When someone approaches, we give each other a wide berth as we pass, necessitating that some of us walk in the street to avoid close contact--we avoid each other as if we had the plague--a lethal infection, of course, is a distinct possibility. We usually give each other a hearty hello as we pass, a welcome token of our humanity, which, if anything, has increased during the crisis.
I feel a little guilty, since we are doing fairly well, despite all the difficulties so many face. Being old and retired is a type of lockdown in itself; I've been out of compensated work for nearly ten years. This was difficult at first, but I have adjusted fairly well. But what about all the people of working age, especially those with families? I thought of doing some volunteer work, but that fact that I'm old with a lot of pre-existing health conditions gives me pause. I'm just going to have to do something--I did some work before the pandemic, but those agencies have temporarily closed down.
I think of Milton's wonderful line from his sonnet, On His Blindness: They also serve who only stand and wait. He was waiting for God, who has been godot-ing his arrival for centuries; we are merely waiting for a significant diminution of the possibility of coughing to death. We might not be able to breathe freely, however, until a vaccine is developed.
Used to working at home, I've been reading a lot, writing a lot and playing, even composing, music a lot. Here are the videos I've posted in the last five days:
1. "Golden Leaves" by the Bulgarian composer, by Dimitar Ninov
2. "Let's Open Every Business" An angry response to the Lt. Governor of Texas's suggestion that we should return to work even if many older people would have to sacrifice themselves to keep America (the stock market) riding high.
3, "When Septuagenarians Sniffle," to the tune of "This Ole House."
4/ God and the Coronavirus, original composition
These recordings are admittedly of poor sonal quality. My son has helped me in the past with sound quality and illustrations--maybe he can work on these once the crisis is over.
I have nothing against people who are spending their time by binge-watching a series on Netflix, etc.--my days are filled with other things. Sure, we watch an occasional movie or watch HBO programs such as Real Time with Bill Maher, Curb Your Enthusiasm, and Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, but not much more than that. I do, however, try to watch an hour of news in Spanish almost every weekday night.
It is great to have Nirmala at home.
I've been taking a one or two day break from most of the news--watching our orange bully of a president continue to harm our country is dispiriting. But I can't keep away from politics for long.
Since the onset of the crisis I haven't shaved. I look ridiculous.
Shaking hands, of course, is out. Fist bumps as well. Some are elbow-tapping, a greeting invented to help one escape death in a friendly manner.
I've decided to namaste those I encounter. Putting palms together, greeting another while bowing slightly, is an ancient Indian custom. Few do it in India, however; most greet each other verbally. When I was in a rural area of the Dominican Republic I greeted everyone, and departed from everyone, with a zesty hug. In India, nobody touches during an encounter. So I was a little bit confused. (One time I hugged a woman who let me know she didn't like it). I like the Dominican tradition, but, for now at least, I'm reverting to an Indian custom which the majority of Indians do not follow. A white man doing namaste might make him look idiotic, but, as I fervently hope, my appearance in this case may be deceiving.
I will close now with a hearty namaste to everyone! Keep well.
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