PANDEMIC DIARY

KNOTS…and other entanglements

August 19, 2020

[Please Note: The August 17 blog post, due to a glitch in ‘sending protocol’, sent two blog posts under a single cover. So, if you scroll beyond the blog “Indisputably White” you will see another blog posted, “A Fond Memory” which I would not like you to miss and know you will enjoy Also, if you read that post by clicking on the link ‘read in browser’ you will rewarded. Thank you.]

As a college student in the 60's, exposed to radical/progressive social and political ideologies, and vulnerable to self-induced forays into alternative mind exploration, both medicinal and meditative, I was most influenced by "anti-establishment" thought leaders and philosophers. An early “WOW! moment” in my youthful, rebelliously inclined intellect visited upon me reading the works of R.D. Laing [RDL], a Scottish psychologist and poet of sorts, (not particularly admired by his peers or the psychology establishment) who, nonetheless, made an impact on the public’s awareness of the nature of mental disorders and contended that forms of ‘psychosis’, in particular schizophrenia, were well within the range of normal behavior. His inference that to not be a little crazy in these times is a sign of insanity, is made quite evident in his most famous work, "KNOTS", a collection of complex and convoluted, word-game like descents into the 'knotty' logic of the psychotic mind. Laing was not "anti-psychiatry" as some claimed, rather, it seems to me, he was "anti-psychiatric establishment". Thus, his fundamental tenet that psychosis is not a "disease", but rather a conspicuous adaptation to an insane world, received little praise from the psycho-therapeutic community. Maybe it was that combination of his peer rejection and my personal alienation that attracted me to Laing.
(Bold italics quotes from R.D. Laing)

“Creative people who can't help but explore other mental territories are at greater risk, just as someone who climbs a mountain is more at risk than someone who just walks along a village lane.”

The practicing psychiatrist who treats the patient with a social disorder as inherently 'sick', is applying a norm set by community standards. Treatment, then, is not sympathetic or empathetic. Treatment becomes an assault on the assumptions by which the client has learned to frame and adapt his/her life. And, foregoes any analysis of the greater societal environment, beyond family, friends, and school etc., that have contributed to prevailing conditions. Under the best of circumstances, it is nearly impossible, and certainly inconsequential, to define “normal”. At such a time as this, all claims to normalcy seem spurious.

“We are effectively destroying ourselves by violence masquerading as Love.”

I was reminded of R.D.L. in the context of the first week of the "humpty-trumpty' presidency. Collusion is defined as: "the secret act between two or more people to achieve or gain something illegally"; to defraud another of his or her rights; to appear as adversaries though in agreement". (definition Merrimack-Webster Dictionary) Then, there is the collusion played by two or more people whereby they deceive themselves by denying they are in active collusion. The game is one of mutual self-deception or mutual acceptance of the self-deception. I see this being played out both on a political and social level as happily performed like trained seals by Republican leaders, their cohorts, and their adherents.

“They are playing a game.
They are playing at not playing a game.
If I show them I see they are, I
shall break the rules and they will punish me.
I must play their game,
of not seeing I see the game.”

Whereas delusion and illusion are self-practiced, single player games, collusion is necessarily a two-or-more person game...of political parties, or segments of the population. Each plays the other’s game, though he/she may not necessarily be fully aware of doing so. An essential feature of this game is not admitting that it is a game.

We are all players in some manner and degree of complexity and commitment. Some are full-in players and adherents of the game knowing full well it is a game. They deny that they know it is a game and know that you know that they know it is a game. These are people willing to accept the ‘con’ solely for their own benefit. Others are players, “true-believer types”, who believe in the game not knowing it is a game. They believe the game has some higher purpose and relieves them of any responsibility of seeing the game. And, still others, believe that the game is absolutely not a game, adhering to the tenets of the game as zealots, like Evangelicals. I have also noticed people who play the game, know that it is a game, and have too much invested in the game for them to reveal to others (and often to themselves) that they are in the game. We have observed this over the past three years of the T _ _ _ p presidency. Middle level government employees who continue to work under the most reprehensible circumstances but cannot personally afford to declare that they see and know the game for fear that they will lose their positions and jobs and revenue.

“Insanity -- a perfectly rational adjustment to an insane world.”

Worse, in a world of "alternate truth", the necessity to adhere to a known non-truth in order to fixate, distract and manipulate opinion, is a technique of fascist dictators. The colluding parties not only are in agreement as to the intention to deceive or act illegally, they also begin to accept the lie as truth adding another layer of deception. 

“We are all murderers and prostitutes - no matter to what culture, society, class, nation one belongs, no matter how normal, moral, or mature, one takes oneself to be.”

It is useless to escape the fact that by dismissing the potency of what is happening, in any manner, we are playing the game of not seeing that we see the game we are playing.

 Anomie: definition
1) the lack of the usual social or ethical standards in an individual or group;
2) (also spelled) anomy, in societies or individuals, a condition of instability resulting from a breakdown of standards and values or from a lack of purpose or ideals. Émile Durkheim;
3) In sociology, anomie is a societal condition defined by an uprooting or breakdown of any moral values, standards, or guidance for individuals to follow. Anomie may evolve from conflict of belief systems and causes breakdown of social bonds between an individual and the community.

Anomie is a social condition in which there is a disintegration or disappearance of the norms and values that were previously common to the society. The concept, thought of as “normlessness,” was developed by the founding sociologist, Émile Durkheim.

Anomie. — a poem by Robert Ronnow, August 2015

Should we invite the neighbors over for dinner?
Their politics so different from ours.
All the more reason. Combat anomie!
He's worried the town's losing population
but opposes immigration. I like immigrants
but hate passing people on my morning walk.

The whole mountainous western region of the state
is losing population at a rate of 1% per annum.
The young move out, the old stay put but
young artists priced out of big cities move in
looking for affordable studio space. How low
can the population go as long as rents stay low?

We did agree about the fire department expansion
being premature (him) or unnecessary (me).
He argued we should renovate the high school first
the roof is caving in and walls crumbling.
But you can teach under a spreading chestnut tree
or baobab and science needs the world for a laboratory.

I teach at the old 2nd St. jail in Pittsfield
a town that doesn't know if it's coming up or going down.
A few shootings last month, no deaths.
They're holding their breath but also trying to attract life
science businesses to the industrial park. The local bank's
expanding, buying smaller banks in neighboring civilizations.

Eventually our fire department got the vote they wanted,
just called another meeting and packed the auditorium.
The final winning argument was we can do the school,
the fire house and the police station all at once.
Don't accept defeat, limitations. Defeat anomie!
Anomie means lawlessness and purposeless in Greek

so that's not exactly what we're trying to defeat.
It's the mismatch between our aspirations and resources,
no, the dissonance between our tribe and nation,
no, the individual as ****** animal and intellectual,
no, the farmer and the banker, the loved one and the litter,
no, whatever happens to you after you die and belief in reincarnation.

For me, it always boils down to mortality
every conversation, which is why no one comes to dinner.
Whether the fire department buys an exorbitant parcel
at the expense of a future school renovation
in a town slightly losing population but still viable
with a college, bank, artists and a few working farms

is everything and nothing, as Borges says.
Deutsch says death ought to be curable.
The new high school or fire station, conditions like anomie
v. democracy, new life forms, self-conscious species
from the laboratory or the biome. How de body?
Today ok. Tomorrow I don't know. Potential

energy, lover, killer, anomie. Karl Popper
had such faith in the rational whereas Niebuhr
acknowledged man's ego is uncontrollable except
by force. Conflict is inevitable. But at dinner
we agree it doesn't always have to be violent or terminal.
We can do the fire department, police station, the school and anomie.

PANDEMIC DIARY

Indisputably, Unavoidably, Inescapably White

August 17, 2020

When Alex was a child we were aware that despite the fact that we were not wealthy, his middle-class upbringing was a kind of privileged existence. We did not indulge him. However, a life without, (how can I describe it?) ‘a baseline level of struggle’ creates unconscious assumptions that all things just come to you. If not corrected, those assumptions can easily turn into ‘expectations’. And, you know the saying, “Happiness is inversely related to expectations”. So, Adele and I would make specific efforts to teach Alex about the larger story occurring elsewhere in his world. While walking in New York City, upon seeing a homeless person, we offered to buy him/her a sandwich and had Alex hand the food to the individual. We talked about charities and the services they performed. He saved his allowance to make voluntary donations.

However, it wasn’t until the publication of the book “Between The World and Me” by Tae Nihisi Coates, that I began to think about my “whiteness” as a totally prevailing assumption around which are built a series of completely internalized presuppositions. At that moment, I literally feared for my failure of consciousness. Whites have literally shielded themselves in an invisible and invincible “Whites Only Gated Community”. How can we alter society’s assumptions if they are so ingrained and represent the height of entitlement? And, as stated in a previous blog post, “the greatest fear of humankind is the fear of losing what you already have'“. If your life’s cornerstone is a postulate so deeply inbred and fixed that it has never been questioned (and certainly not doubted or disputed) then how does it get changed?

In order to self-educate myself, I decided to make a list of my predicates as they related to my whiteness.

Have any of your own?

Because I am white:
— I grew up never fearing for my life.
— I grew up never fearing who was walking on my side of the street.
— I never grew up fearing my friend was carrying a gun or a knife.
— I grew up never fearing my father would beat me for talking with a black woman.
— I grew up never fearing my mother would attend my funeral.
— I grew up never fearing Blacks, or Hispanics, or Asians…or other White folks.
— I grew up never fearing that I was not polite enough.
— I grew up never fearing looking someone else in the eyes.
— I grew up never fearing that someone wanted to control me…or had control of me.
— I grew up never fearing that my body would be either destroyed or taken from me.
— I never grew up fearing law enforcement.
— I grew up never fearing that I could be shot or hanged or incarcerated for being white.
— I grew up never fearing where my next meal was coming from or if I would have a next meal.
— I grew up never fearing that I was too white or not white enough.
— I grew up never fearing harm if I didn’t say “Sir” or “Ma’am”
— I grew up never fearing that I was not dominant in this culture.
— I grew up never fearing that the only work I could do was as a ‘bootblack’ or as a fast-food worker.
— I grew up never fearing (or knowing of) a ‘drive-by’ shooting.
— I grew up never fearing that I evoked fear in others.
— I grew up never fearing that my hair was too straight or that my “pompadour” was too White.

After making this list, I realized that I actually did grow up fearing that my nose was too long and identified me as Jewish. That did get me into trouble. I was called “banana nose” in grade school; “hook nose” in Junior High School; and, “dirty Jew” in High School. It is evident how the level of sophistication changed the older I got. LOL But, not the stupidity of it all. As a Jew growing up in the Bronx in a predominantly Irish Catholic neighborhood, the prevailing belief (and teaching of the church) was that the Jews killed Christ. We were not infrequently the targets of Christian youths’ sense of retribution for said killing. I think that’s how it is I became a star receiver on the football team, because I learned to feign and parry while running full speed away from my oppressors.

Through it all, I never felt ashamed of being either white or Jewish. I never felt that society as a whole diminished the essence of my being. I never questioned my place in the world. I never doubted there was an end to this childishness. I was not traumatized by the slights. No one I knew was ever sliced with a knife. No one I ever knew was shot and killed. Although, I remember Stephen Rosenberg died of an overdose. He was 15 years old at the time. This was my first exposure to drug use. No one I knew was restricted from living where they wanted. No one I knew was told they weren’t bright enough or not college material. I was a member of a singing group that was made up of three black friends and myself.

Assumptions can easily become expectations that rule our belief systems and fixate people on hate and blame without ever giving consideration to what the other person is feeling and what hurdles and burdens those attitudes place upon other human beings. Whites have been given an undeserved pass in life. We need to awaken to this fact and restore the balance of justice and equality every human being deserves as a birthright.

PANDEMIC DIARY

A Fond Memory

August 16, 2020

The year is 1961. I am 15 years old and living with a family in Paris for a too brief period of three weeks. In recognition of their hospitality and the sincere affection I felt for my hosts, I thought to express my deepest regard and admiration by purchasing a going away gift. It would not be a ‘lasting’ memento because what I had in mind was a consumable. It would be eaten and enjoyed likely within a matter of a couple of days. Still, I thought it an appropriate and tasteful gesture. So, on this misty morning, I ambled down the cobblestone lane of rue Eugene Delacroix, along the boulevard Avenue George Mandel, through Trocadero and across the Pont D’Ilena into the Seventh Arrondissement, to a ‘chocolaterie’ famous for their handmade and distinctive chocolates.

With my new found French language skills and my French dictionary tucked in my jacket pocket, I confidently took hold of the ornate brass handle to the grand, art-deco glass door and stepped into this chic wonderland of seemingly endless displays of chocolates.

A very beautiful young lady [as most young French ladies were to this rampantly hormonal male] approached me wearing a knee-length, dirndl-like skirt with an apron top. In French, (‘bien sur’), she asked if she could be of assistance. So dearly did I want to be French, and willing to assume the role of a young Frenchman, I confidently proceeded to request the following having practiced along the route, “I would like a half kilometer of chocolates.” There was a wisp of a pause and a telling look of confusion on the clerk’s face as she asked me to repeat what it was I wished for. I adjusted both speed and tone. “May I please have a half kilometer of chocolates.” The charming service person was now clearly nonplussed and mildly upset not knowing how to handle this situation…a situation I was causing without any self awareness.

Curtsying ever so slightly, the young lady excused herself indicating that she would get someone else to assist me. And, in just a few moments a fine, tall, elegant looking gentleman who I took to be the proprietor appeared and, with the clerk by his side, repeated for thrice time, “How can I be of assistance?” And, so as not to disappoint, I repeated. “Sir, I would like a half kilometer of assorted chocolates.” Then, without a moment’s pause, and absent any suggestion of sarcasm or smugness, indeed with a generous gift basket filled with patience, sympathy, grace and respect for my linguistic efforts, he earnestly inquired as if willing to accede to my request,

“Would you care for the chocolates to be lined up…

THIS WAY OR THIS WAY

Politely adding to insure I did not miss the error of my ways, “Of course, you will get very many more pieces if they are aligned vertically.” Slapping my hand against my forehead {a real ‘zetz’} in what must have looked like a precursor to Homer Simpson…

Discover & share this Doh GIF with everyone you know. GIPHY is how you search, share, discover, and create GIFs.

…it finally dawned upon me that I was asking for chocolates in distance…not weight.

“Kilogram!” I blurted.

It was their knowing smiles and laughter that kept me from feeling any sort of embarrassment or humiliation. This comedy was not idiosyncratic, a foible or deficiency. It did not reflect on my innate character or characterize a nationality. They did not gloat, demean or debase me in word or deed. In fact, instead of setting themselves apart, my hosts became integral to the burlesque. I also was rewarded a block of chocolate to enjoy on my walk home.

Why did this youthful interaction have such a lasting and important influence on me? Even as a young man, I was aware of reports from family and friends who traveled to Europe extolling the societal delights and pleasures they experienced. They would spend thousands of dollars and return with stories of how they were treated by the department store clerk, the supermarket attendant, the lady at the vegetable store who wore a simple, black ‘A-line’ dress with high heels and pearls, the waiter who brought them a taste of something viewed and commented upon at another table, the street cleaning machines that would pass by the hotel every morning washing and brightening the streets,

These acts, all, are measures of self-reflected, egalitarian, societal attitudes toward service, civility, humanity and culture. The clerks and attendants were as vital and necessary to the mutual functioning and enjoyment of society as were the financier or politician. Each had a significant role to play. They were not anathema to the whole. They were neither bane or burden. They were essential. And, when I speak of essential I do not mean something to have to “put up with” or grudgingly accept. No! I mean essential to the ‘good life’ - a shared daily existence without encumbrances and impediments like regards for race, presumed intelligence, status, class, presumed wealth or any other claims to privilege or exception.

Americans, instead of blurring the lines of distinction seem to relish in drawing and defending lines…and for a false psychology that infers somehow one is elevated if another is demeaned. In that system, no one gets what they want. Everyone is resentful, hateful, feels either underprivileged, dismissed, disregarded, and/or denigrated. Americans sacrifice the ‘inter’-relationship and forego the compatibility emphasizing the unworthiness, the discord, the infliction those in lower classes impose.

As it happens, just the other day, I heard an interview with Gene Sperling, author of “Economic Dignity”, a new book that advocates for economic justice and market reforms that would allow people to “care for family without economic deprivation or desperation”. Referring to Martin Luther King Jr.’s speech delivered to the Sanitation Worker’s Union, he quoted King, “the Sanitation worker was as essential as the physician”. He pointed out that especially at this time we are realizing that farmers, delivery drivers, grocery store clerks, and home health care workers “are now people who are literally saving our lives”. But, they remain underpaid and allowed to work in unsafe conditions without personal protective equipment. He goes on to say, “…you do not achieve dignity just with applause, just with respect. You have to have dignified treatment”.

PANDEMIC DIARY

LET’S HAVE SOME FUN…

August 14, 2020

Although I no longer am a subscriber to The New Yorker Magazine, I try to remember to go online each week to see the latest of the “Cartoon Captions Contest”. These are drawn cartoons without captions to which the audience is invited to fill in their own caption or ‘punch line’.

https://www.newyorker.com/cartoons/contest#winner

I thought it would be fun to show photos of our illustrious sham of a…well, you know, and add my own captions to the pictures. These are, of course, not intended to be the definitive captions. You are all so clever. I do hope that they inspire you to submit your own captions and I will post the results.

"There, Officer Handy. That’s the moment my wallet went missing”.

“I am here for you, my son. Just don’t pee on my shoes”.

“It’s even amazing to me how all my shots end up within 10’ from the hole”.

“Lincoln bedroom…in ten minutes”

“:But you promised we could play the Russian version of Monopoly”

PLEASE TRY YOUR HAND AT THESE CAPTIONS. ALL ENTRIES WELCOME!

PANDEMIC DIARY

WHAT, ME WORRY???

AUGUST 7, 2020

As a young man growing up in the Bronx, New York, my formative years were spent in the fifties and sixties. It was a period of economic prosperity combined with a greater and growing awareness of the importance and value of public engagement as related to individual civic duty. There were eight daily newspapers and two daily late editions.

• New York Daily News

• New York Mirror

• New York Post

• NY Times

• The Herald Tribune

• The World Telegram and Sun

• New York Journal American

• Newsday

• There were Chinese, Korean, Philippine, Muslim (yes, Muslim), Spanish and Jewish dailies.

• There was a weekly newspaper for every borough of New York.

However, easily the most anticipated event for me was the monthly arrival of MAD MAGAZINE. I was six years old when first published in 1952; Mad Magazine became an instant hit with the public. It was irreverent, slightly anarchistic adolescent silliness along with political and popular cultural satire. There was not a person, whether movie/television star, politician or religious leader, MAD did not buffoon. No subject was too sacred. And, the vehicle for all this madness was Alfred E. Neuman, a kind of proletariat Everyman whose face was often superimposed on those prominent public figures they chose to satirize. Their ‘modus operandi’ was in no way subtle, and it was highly effective. MAD was unforgiving, audacious, and scathing in its humor and commentary otherwise when it was not being totally absurd, goofy and camp “off the wall”.

The ‘one and only’, the Surgeon of Satire, the smartest ‘dumb-ass’ in the bunch. The inimitable
Alfred E. Neuman.

The iconic face, like no other, impossible to forget.

There is a social phenomenon occurring. Of course, this is just anecdotal, however it has shown up in casual conversations on several occasions. Women who hate Donald Trump, and there are scores of them, hate him with a vitriol, malevolence, and virulence the likes of which I have never seen or experienced. It started with simple wishes for him to die. Discussions of whether you could kill anybody ensued. Disputations on whether there is such a thing as justifiable murder ensued. Until all seemed set to save the world of this horror without loss of dreams or a night’s sleep. Was a tenuous morality revealed? Was it latent hostility fancifully spoken?

A 2020 version of the near seven decades old MAD Magazine.

To the more specific, the question arose, “Given the perfect opportunity and set of circumstances, could you will yourself to murder Trump? Very quickly, and without forethought, morality and ethics flew out the window like the ascension of a falcon in pursuit of its prey. “Yes!” They answered in a single, unfettered voice. It then became a contest as to what anyone would be willing to do to participate in his death. Would you shoot him, stab him,poison him, or run him over. As the stakes became higher the contempt grew and the anger and disdain drooled like vile liquid from their mouths. These women were so ready to do away with this excuse for a human. Well, let’s up the anti. The question then introduced was (and this was somewhat of a departure because you might get away with murder, but can you run away fro memory?), “Would you sleep with Trump as a plot to bring about his death. There was less of a chorus of agreement on this earlier in his administration. But, as time passed and he revealed himself an irredeemable, vengeful, fascist savant, women’s minds began to change. Adele, arose one day and declared, “In order to rid the world of this bastard, I would sleep with him and deal with the emotional consequences later.” By this time , Adele and her friends were pretty much a universal chorale of agreement. A harem of murderers singing belligerent hymns to survival.

Still, this did not suffice. Death was too quick. So here we are, pre-election, in a new phase. Women salivating for Trump’s suffering. It is not enough that he merely dies. He must suffer. He must witness the loss of all he values. He must lose face to the world. He must watch his empire fall. He must sadly sit on the sidelines as his children get picked apart. He must sit behind the defense table for the rest of his life hearing arguments, by-standing as reams of case law rip apart each and every venture. He must ensconce himself as his asceticism is fully uncovered, laid in front of the world, until he humiliates himself by failed attempts of hare-kari Trump-style, by eating himself to death consuming Super-size Big Macs.

Is this the face of helplessness and loss of empowerment? Or the opposite? Would women claim this power, even if imagined, in past generations? Are they rcountering Trumps misogynistic actions and words? Or, are they protecting our future and that of our children by a noble act of sacrifice? I don’t know the answer. Please tell us if you have had these thoughts.

PANDEMIC DIARY

CAREFUL WHAT YOU LAUGH FOR

AUGUST 5, 2021

The expression, ”careful what you wish for” came to mind this morning. Yesterday, I posted a series of cartoons and the response has been overwhelming. It is as if a Dam of Humor was released and washed our spirits with cooling refreshment. To be honest, I thought the post was ‘cute’, but did not expect such an immediate and favorable response. So many took the time to thank me for the cartoons and opportunity to get to know my knee more intimately. It also made me fathom the fervent need for laughter and release.

I do not give myself credit for these replies. Might it be true that the reaction was derived from an offering between an arcane, indispensable hankering for hilarity opposed to the sad, ironic and vexing laughter caused by a constant flow of ever disturbing news. Was I unconsciously suggesting the dichotomy between the incongruous humor associated with “the pain in my knee” and the inescapable, defensive, macabre humor of our “the pain in the ass” president?

One causes ‘over the top’, irresistible mirth, usually accompanied by tears of joy.
The other causes a head shaking, sickly solemnity also accompanied by tears…but tears of melancholy.

PANDEMIC DIARY

A KNEE JERK REACTION

August 4, 2020

This is my knee months prior to surgery. Nothing I did seemed to help.
Everything only had a band-aid effect.

So, I went to the doctor and complained:

I went to his associate believing he could come up with an alternate diagnosis…and he did.

I ran out of the office, seeking an orthopedic surgeon. A specialist? His medical opinion was too little, too late.

In fact, there was only one solution at this point. Surgery.

Here is the real story. On July 27th, at 5:30 AM, I hobbled into the lobby at Durham Regional Hospital with Adele by my side. At 7 AM I was rolled into the operating room. The surgeon began a total knee replacement procedure at 8 AM., completing the surgery at 9:15. Back on the gurney to recovery then onto a private recovery room. Adele returned to the hospital a few minutes after 1:30. At about 2 PM I was up for my first walk. Adele saw me take my first steps. This is what my knee looked like the day of surgery.

Kinda cute. A little thick around the perimeter, but otherwise normal looking.

Compression stocking over surgical gauze and tape following surgery.

…and without the compression stocking.

The bruising that developed after three days ran up and down my leg.

The bandage was removed one week after surgery.

I am now walking with one crutch for safety precautions, but am able to walk unaided already. For most of the day I am in a reclining position with a cool wrap to keep the swelling down. Adele sometimes wraps her head with the device to alleviate the headaches. LOL

A final word of gratitude to all of you. I have been the fortunate recipient of the kindest and most concerned emails and attachments inquiring as to my health and progress. I am deeply moved by your caring and thoughtful words. Thank you.

PANDEMIC DIARY

AT THE BORDER OF EACH TRIBE

Claude Levi-Strauss

July 26, 2020

Claude Levi-Strauss (1908-2009) was a French social anthropologist credited as founder of “Structuralism”, and the development of “structural anthropology” or the study and analysis of cultural systems. His ideas were prescient at the time of his writings and still profoundly influential. What I particularly admire about Levi-Strauss is the contrast between his weighty insights and visionary foresight as contrasted with his simplicity of elocution of complex ideas.

“There cannot be a world civilization since civilization implies coexistence of cultures offering among themselves maximum diversity.”

Doesn’t he make the fatal…fascinating? Coexistence is the precise opposite scenario as exists today.
Want to continue down this rabbit hole with me…?"

Levi-Strauss asserts that, for the majority of the human species, and for tens of thousands of years…the idea that humanity includes every human being on earth never existed, does not exist at all…and that the designation (of a group) stops at the border of each tribe, linguistic group or sometimes even at the edge of the village.S

Some years back, Adele and I took the car and headed to “The Crooked Road” (TCR) in western Virginia. Between May and September, all along TCR are locales - barns, general stores, churches, Town Halls, and barber shops where local groups of fiddlers, violinists and singers gather to play Hillbilly, Blue Grass, and ‘Ol Time Music (as distinct from Country Music). This is authentic mountain and valley music played with extraordinary skill and utmost joy by young and old alike. The journey down and around TCR takes you through the backwaters and ‘hollers’ of the countryside. A ‘holler’ is a vernacular word for ‘hollow’. A hollow describes a depression, something dimpled or carved out.

This is Hattfield’s and McCoy’s country. Gorgeous rolling hills that dip deeply from pine hillocks down into teeming tributaries and stream, then curl around embracing the shack, the farm, the herd, and the garden all nestled in Mother Nature’s arms. This is heaven - a slice of salvation burrowed here on Earth. All that one sees is one’s own. Each cutout is a family settlement. No surveyor needed. No fence or posts or markers. The holler is defined by nature’s boundaries. The ‘crick’ to the South; the ridge to the East where the sun comes up; halfway into them woods to the West; and, twenty paces yonder behind the wood shed and on past papa’s tombstone to the North. Some folk have been born, gone to school, got married, had children and died in that there holler. That was their world. In fact, while staying at a Bed & Breakfast, I read passages from a book where it stated that the people of the western part of Virginia were the most undisturbed, original, and last indigenous folk in the whole of the United States, so isolated and, also protective of their perceived treasure were they.

Make no mistake, that cuddled land was a living thing - fresh running water, tall timber forest, food from squirrels and snakes and fresh water fish, and above all, privacy. The outside world did not exist. And, that’s the way they wanted it. You might as well have lived a continent away from those on the other side of the hill. Sometimes those folk were friends; sometimes not. Sometimes the ladies would help giving birth; sometimes the families would fight over marriages. Battles were more frequently than not about boundaries. But, when the greater area was threatened, there was no greater union. Families who fought and opposed one another became quick allies in an effort to repel any intimidation and peril.

Western Virginia is a mere microcosm of what Levi-Strauss is talking about. There is a limited capacity of population that can effectively be communicated to with the ability to maintain community unity, adherence and competence. After that, representatives are needed to reach far afield. At this point the system begins to break down. Your identity attaches to other small group and you have lost commonness with your origins.

Adding to the complexity of this social reality is the advent of the internet and social media. Levi-
Strauss was concerned in the 1950’s: “It is only through difference that progress can be made. What threatens us right now is probably what we may call over-communication--that is, the tendency to know exactly in one point of the world what is going on in all other parts of the world. In order for a culture to be really itself and to produce something, the culture and its members must be convinced of their originality and even, to some extent, of their superiority over the others; it is only under conditions of under-communication that it can produce anything. We are now threatened with the prospect of our being only consumers, able to consume anything from any point in the world and from any culture, but of losing all originality.”

Yvon Chouinard agrees, "The reason why we won't face up to our problems…is that we are the problem. It's not the corporations out there, it's not the governments, it's us. We're the ones telling the corporations to make more stuff, and make it as cheap and as disposable as possible. We're not citizens anymore. We're consumers. That's what we're called. It's just like being an alcoholic and being in denial that you're an alcoholic. We're in denial that each and every one of us is the problem. And until we face up to that, nothing's going to happen.”

So, is this a contradiction or do these somewhat contrary ideas meld into a unified theory? On the one hand, Levi-Strauss seems to say that humans are incapable of a worldwide, consolidated vision of humanity; and, on the other hand, he appears to be claiming that humanity is defined by differences necessary for progress. I think rather than thinking the theory flawed, he seems to be laying claim, 70 years ago, to what is happening in front of our eyes now. Americans believe in their exceptionalism and near infallibility. Our culture is more exclusionary that ever before. Cultural differences rather than being accepted and admired are viewed as threats to a prevailing dominant culture. Americans are more openly and blatantly racist and nationalistic in their claims to rights and privilege than ever before. Our consumerism makes us like those we despise. We want more, better, cheaper, faster and all without concern with how we get it or at what price to our fellow man. In this sense, we are not free. Worse, we give those with power the ability to suggest they are serving our needs while enriching themselves.

“Freedom comes at a cost. The cost of freedom is the willingness to think less of yourself and more for others.” David Roth

"There is a beginning and end to all life – and to all human endeavors. Species evolve and die off. Empires rise, then break apart. Businesses grow, then fold. There are no exceptions. I’m OK with all that. Yet it pains me to bear witness to the sixth great extinction, where we humans are directly responsible for the extirpation of so many wonderful creatures and invaluable indigenous cultures. It saddens me to observe the plight of our own species; we appear to be incapable of solving our problems."
Yvon Chouinard

PANDEMIC DIARY

“THE BEE’S KNEES”

July 25, 2020

Alas! Were I but bobbing at sea
”To land” ne’er would I plea
For open blue many men do flee
Escaping city streets and scree.

T’is true, desire will not free
Me for seasonal mash of peas
Or, divinely sumptuous brie.
As to ocean, such trifles are wee.

Though my head may turn to lea
Beholding forest of birch and fir tree
Then think I of cabin and key
And shirk work and responsibility.

Only God knows. Tomorrow we foresee
Not, nor wish I to decry or decree.
Power, wealth, position I certainly see
Can corrupt king or queen, he or she.

Such dreams provide joy and harmony
Of spirit, whilst Monday I to surgery
Go. Today, green tea I drink, naught whiskey,
For this the period ’pre’ new knee.

Your reflections and corps d’esprit
I so admire. You are “the bee’s knees”
Thank you, your presence; your comments are stellar.
Post-op, I promise a glossy picture of my patella.



PANDEMIC DIARY

THESE DAYS OF DEARTH

July 24, 2020

Last Sunday very dear friends came to sit on our screened in porch for a couple of late morning hours catching up. The evening before, another couple, dear friends also, came for dinner on our screened in porch. Last week, we went to the home of new friends who are absolutely dear, sitting outside on their lovely patio for dinner. What we have in common is a deep respect for the Covid virus. We share knowledge that each of us follows CDC recommended procedures and guidelines. Each of us is in a higher risk category. We socially distance when we get together. We wear masks when we go out to shop and do chores. We take strict precautions mutually acknowledging that those favored activities, now sorely missed, are not worth the risk.

We do miss our freedom

Here is what each meeting looks like. We greet our friends at the door and walk them around the house to the rear entrance to the screened in porch. People supply their own drinks. Dinners have been picked up by us, as hosts, or by our company on their way to the house. We take seats. The couple on the sofa. Adele and I, easily 6’ away, sit on our outdoor club chairs. Our greetings are mimicked hugs and kisses. We stare across the fabricated expanse, “How are you folks?” And, the response is predictable at its core, “As well as can be expected”.

Then, all grey cells devolve and disappointment, fear, anguish and solemnity takes over so that for the next 2 hours all that is spoken about is Trump, the the failure of our democracy, concern for the next generation, what actions to take to oppose this administration, and the November election. Among the people I have described are an Entrepreneur; University Chair; Investment Counselor; Human Services Consultant; Human Resource Consultant; and International Financier. I am talking about superior intellects. I am speaking about people who know how to rift and improvise. Great minds. Liberal minds…and by that I mean open to differences and dialog; open to change and possibilities; open to nuance; and willing to be wrong. I am talking creative, caring, and conversational people. Yet, we all ‘de-generate’ and descend into advocates of what each of us already know to be true. Preaching to the Masses…of four. So, we vent because we don’t spend our days dislodging and evacuating our thoughts and fears with our spouses since that scenario is untenable contributing naught toward marital bliss.

Let me be frank. Does anybody under these current set of circumstances have anything to talk about (other than their kids). And, you know the saying, “A parent is only as happy as their least happy child”, is absolutely true. Is it any wonder the suicide rate is on the rise. I mean, if I were inclined toward self-harm, this would be the time to:

Leap from tall buildings in a single bound…

or, Tie a Yellow Ribbon ‘Round…

Which is why I posted the picture of the couple at the outset, enjoying a respite at a cafe. Isn’t it our spouses (Yes, both husbands and wives) that are making these demanding times easier. Even playful. We watched a movie last week at 11 AM. (That is strictly between us) We have a whole lot of nothing to do and a whole lot of time to do it in, and having someone you love by your side makes ‘these days of dearth’ worthwhile and enjoyable.

PANDEMIC DIARY

GRIEF

July 22, 2020

Grief, a bygone song:
Words long ago forgotten;
Melodies linger.
a Haiku by David Roth

Each day, at day’s beginning, I awake, my core intact, and, like an arrow piercing my heart, I am suddenly struck by a reality I wish to shelter myself from. Have you ever noticed that pictures of people grieving inevitably depict a person either bent over; laying in fetal position; holding their heads down; covering their eyes; or, generally, what I would suggest, are acts of ‘shielding’ themselves. We want to cocoon ourselves, cover up and go away, even blind ourselves to what, in that moment, is too horrible to bare, too painful and emotionally overwhelming. But, do not be sad.

There is a distinction between sadness and grief: (my definitions)
sadness: the loss of something you never had.
grief: the feeling of affliction or real loss

In other words, grief is an actual experience of loss; sadness is the filling of mental space with notions of longing for what was never there. You cannot lose what you never had. Likewise, you cannot grieve for what never was.

“The archaeology of grief is not ordered. It is more like earth under a spade, turning up things you had forgotten. Surprising things come to light: not simply memories, but states of mind, emotions, older ways of seeing the world.”
Helen Macdonald, “H is for Hawk”

Last night, Adele and I were one of several hosts for a gathering of over one hundred people meeting on Zoom, for the monthly gathering of 31st St. Swing Left. An incredibly effective non-profit working on behalf of local Democratic candidates throughout the country, 31st St. Swing Left has exceptional success since 2017 in getting elected over 70% of its candidates, all of whom are women or minority candidates. The reason I bring this up is because everyone on the call is grieving. They are grieving the loss of values, the evident corruption and cruelty, and the threat to our democracy. They are grieving…but they are not sad. They are not sad because the concerns are real, they are occurring, and because you can grieve and act effectively at the same time. Our anger is righteous and not blinding us to the work that must be done.

We can all grieve and work for something better.

PANDEMIC DIARY

POWER? Not what you think.

July 21, 2020

What better thing to be?

Today I am thinking about my favorite quote, a quote I had held onto at a time when I was “riding high” yet doubting myself. The quote is by Marianne Williamson. Yes, that Marianne Williamson. The woman who was running for President. Also author of “A Course in Miracles”. I am not sure how to categorize her work. She is an author, lecturer and spiritual leader (whatever that is), but I admired her gumption in making two proposals during the presidential debates that no one else dared to introduce. Maybe because they wanted to win the nomination.

Her first proposal was for a Department of Peace. Why not? We study war. Ironic, isn’t it, that we investigate and study (at the cost of billions of dollars) how to prevail in a conflagration, but we have never put a cent into how not to engage in confrontations that can lead to all out war. Its almost too simple and too logical an endeavor that makes it sound silly or trifling, particularly to aging, gray haired white men who like to play armchair games.

Her second proposal was for reparations for the American descendants of enslaved Africans Americans. In what has been called a ‘stand-out’ moment in the second debate, Williamson stated that reparations was “financial assistance” as opposed to a repayment of debt. “We need to recognize, when it comes to the economic gap between blacks and whites in America, it does come from a great injustice that has never been dealt with. That great injustice has had to do with the fact that there was 250 years of slavery followed by another 100 years of domestic terrorism.”

Here is the quote that has had an enormous impact on me:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

I would like to ask the average person on the street what ‘power’ means, its dictionary meaning, not what it infers or implies, and I would guess that they would miss by a country mile. They might say power is control; domination; abuse; force; rule. As an example, “rule” is defined by control and domination and also, prevailing, and ‘taking over’. A judge rules, and he/she ‘adjudicates’, ‘determines’; leaders rule and they ‘dominate’, practice ‘authority over’, and ‘reign’.

If you search for power on a stock photo site, you will see a lot of ‘power lines’ - huge polls; steel structures conducting electricity; smoke stacks spewing dense, dark clouds into the atmosphere; hydroelectric plant facilities with massive infrastructure surrounded by thousands-acres man-made lakes; and, men using grinders, sanders, and heavy equipment. But, not one picture represents what power means if we go back to the dictionary…and not what it infers.

In our current societal climate, I dare say that ‘power’ is being confused by the idioms used to represent it:
— Absolute power corrupts absolutely
— Come into power
— Corridors of power
— The power behind the throne
— Power broker
— Balance of power
— Soft Power
— Staying Power
…and the list goes on.

The first and primary definition of power in any dictionary is: (noun) “ability to do or act; capability of doing or accomplishing something.” Power has for so long been associated with men; military; sports; party politics and downright corruption, that we have effectively lost its fundamental meaning. which describes degrees of capabilities and competencies. The meaning that can instruct and guide us. Again, it is not that these idioms, alternate definitions and phrases are incorrect. I am simply saying that the manner of use of the word power has become so overwhelmingly related to ‘force’, strength, and control that its use in any spiritual sense has been lost.

As a young person, I had an ‘outward’ personality. I was serious, assertive, and self-confident. To observers, I could either be adorable or obnoxious. And, to tell the truth, I am not sure much has changed for me in that regard. What has changed has been how I think of myself in relation to others. Although I am softer, a better listener, very considerate and generous, I learnt these traits to be more of the person I wished to be and not to succumb to others opinions or judgements. One can say, “I grew up”. But, I have not sacrificed my desire to be effective, capable, functional…to make things work, to fully engage my creativity and talent, and fulfill my potential.

The last piece is fulfillment. Love. True power.

The power that lies within us is our brilliance, our light, our love. Our power is a beacon which shines best when we lose the encumbrances of doubt, fear, and shame. We were meant to love. Williamson says it best,
“Love is what we are born with. Fear is what we learn. The spiritual journey is the unlearning of fear and prejudices and the acceptance of love back in our hearts. Love is the essential reality and our purpose on earth. To be consciously aware of it, to experience love in ourselves and others, is the meaning of life. Meaning does not lie in things. Meaning lies in us…It takes courage...to endure the sharp pains of self discovery rather than choose to take the dull pain of unconsciousness that would last the rest of our lives.”

PANDEMIC DIARY

FEAR AS WORLDVIEW

July 19, 2019

F : False or Forget
E : Evidence or Everything
A : Appearing or And
R : Real or Run

Early in my professional career, I had a mentor who was a brilliant salesperson. I worked under him selling high-end consulting services to businesses. I would ‘shadow’ him on visits to clients following his instructions and observing his techniques. It was not an easy sell being that our engagements could easily ascend in cost to the hundreds of thousands of dollars. Aside from the subliminal techniques in his suitcase, there was one primary lesson. He instructed me to “sell fear'“. He said that “fear is the single greatest motivator, and that the two greatest fears were: the fear of not getting what you want; and, the fear of losing what you have. And, by far the greater of the two was the fear of losing what you have.

In 2018, two political scientists, Marc Hetherington and Jonathan Weiler, wrote a book titled “Prius or Pickup” suggesting that politics today is less abut red vs. blue and more about fixed vs. fluid.
“Of the many factors that make up your worldview, one is more fundamental than any other in determining which side of the divide you gravitate toward: your perception of how dangerous the world is. Fear is perhaps our most primal instinct, after all, so it’s only logical that people’s level of fearfulness informs their outlook on life.”

The fixed worldview “describes people who are warier of social and cultural change and hence more set in their ways, more suspicious of outsiders, and more comfortable with the familiar and predictable.” Whereas, people with a fluid worldview, by contrast, “support changing social and cultural norms, are excited by things that are new and novel, and are open to, and welcoming of, people who look and sound different.”

What’s happened in recent decades, they argue, is that politics in general, and our political parties in particular, have reorganized around these worldviews, adding a new, and arguably irreconcilable difference into our political divisions. That difference is visible in everything from what we think, to where we live, to how we shop, but it’s particularly apparent in how hard it is for us to understand how the other side views the world.

From our inception, the fundamental ideological divide between party’s was the size of government. The Democrats proposed a bigger role; the Republicans advocated a smaller role. Most Americans varied in their judgements and commitments on this question. The party elites could compromise across party lines even as there were rancorous political differences.

A dramatic change took place in the 20th century as the dividing line was no longer about governance (more or less governing). The divide evolved into differences in philosophy about life - a worldview determined by the degree of fear experienced. Is the world a safe place to live and explore, or is it a dangerous snake pit to hunker down against.

If you think the world is dangerous, safety is always the No. 1 concern. When it comes to physical safety, (job security, opportunity, religious beliefs, social norms), letting your guard down against adversaries could be disastrous. If you think the world is safe, however, discriminating against groups that have generally been down the racial, gender, or sexual orientation hierarchy is the real sin.

We often speak to the issue of “identity politics”. However, at the core is a worldview that inclines people to identify with certain views about the nature of the world and our very existence. Worldviews have become mated to partisanship. And, we all have worldviews. It’s when those worldviews identify with a singularly defined identity around which individual lives are structured that produces intense conflict. Opposing worldviews have always been around. What is relatively new is how structured, conformed and mapped are these neatly packaged party identities.

Proclamations from the president about “American carnage”, “America is no longer respected”, “The world is a very dangerous place”, and “America is being taken advantage of” is utilizing the ‘dog whistle’ approach that speaks to a highly discreet population of citizens who are predisposed to fear. They already feel put upon, dismissed and ignored, their values challenged, their voices dimmed. “When Democrats see, hear, and read these things, they just don’t get it. Although they see danger, it is in the form of Republicans who perceive people who look or sound different as threats to national security. Modern-day Democrats see old traditions that discriminate against minorities, women, and LGBT people as the real threats to American life.”

All evidence points to the fact that the world is safer. Yet, reality hardly matters today. The bases of the two parties simply view the world much differently. The authors cite research that makes clear that fear benefits Republicans in a worldview divided system. Opinions creep to the right principally when one party is willing to use fear as a cudgel and are moved to aggressively assert a singular, clearly defined and articulated worldview. It is because Democrats are ‘open’ and available to change, and struggle within the party as to how much change is advantageous that their worldview often fails in its message and cogency.

Unfortunately, the author’s conclusions are not encouraging. Hetherington says, “I’m an optimist and even I can’t generate much optimism now…We appear to be approaching a crucible moment…When you hate your opponent as much as Republicans hate Democrats, it is hard to give an inch on anything… For things to change, something must supplant these primal worldviews as the dividing line between the parties. That impetus must come from the top. Leaders set the grounds of debate. Ordinary people follow their lead…I worry, though, that politics divided by worldview may be the natural state of things. We just didn’t realize that because we grew up in an anomalous time when the divide was about the size of government. Looking back over centuries, politics has almost always been fought between forces who favor the traditional and those who favor modernity. We’ve gone back to the future.”

The Life Saving Jig-Saw Puzzle

Adele is a bit of a jig-saw puzzle fanatic. So are her friends. So is much of the country. You cannot find a jig-saw puzzle in Michael’s or Walmart or any of the art and hobby stores. They are all sold out. You can find jig-saw puzzles online, but you will have to wait an average of three months or more for delivery. What is it about jig-saw puzzles that draws people to the test during this duration of epidemic?

Adele’s latest 1,500 piece puzzle

Remember as kids, how we used to put together those large form 8-piece puzzles. We had such a feeling of accomplishment when they all came together. And, we had found pleasure in turning the puzzle upside down and watching as all the pieces tumbled into disarray. Then, we had the opportunity to repeat, be awed, and think we are wonderful all over again. I think the first reason we love jig-saw puzzles is that sense of completion. They have a beginning and an end.

The second reason I think jig-saw puzzles are in such high demand is that they demand order in your approach to them. First finding the border pieces, separating by color or other distinctive markings that place pieces in a section of the puzzle, and finally, beginning to put together the puzzle pieces.
This is a rather complex process which brings us to the third quality of jigsaw puzzles. They demand attention. They take us away from the heightened emotional and psychological states so distracting and disturbing and deliver us to a place of calm and relative peace. These latter qualities of inner calm and peace, I would contend represent the fourth gift provided by jig-saw puzzles.

A 1,000 piece puzzle

COMPLETION
ORDER
ATTENTION
PEACE

This is not to suggest that meditation, piano playing, a coloring book, or a Mozart concerto cannot offer the same relief and benefit. But, those activities present little surprise to us. Its the fact that friends and family are trading jig-saw puzzles, reserving them to ensure they are on the list of traders, that fascinated me.

In other words, its service is to provide the diametrical opposite state of being in our current reality. Since “Orange-pusses” election, there has been an interminable desire to terminate this mayhem - to put an end to the corruption, lies, deception and abuse of power. It seems that our democracy is frayed and unraveling and we are losing all sense of order. These ‘tricksters’ have utilized ‘sleights of hand’ to distract and obfuscate what is important only to benefit themselves. Worse, unlike Mister “I can’t find the way to my mouth”, there are many in the administration who are ‘true believers’ and want to convert this union of ‘united’ states to a religious state where love is expressed as ‘anti-abortion’ and ‘law and order’. All this chaos and threat demands distraction from the care we wish to give to our everyday lives. And finally, jig-saw puzzles are an antidote to the constant upheaval of the moment. That is the job of a fascist. To create societal unrest, to provide easy solutions even at the expense of your neighbor, to enforce limitations to protests and gatherings, to malign the media and the very federal laws and institutions that gave people the rights to be crazy and out of control, and to identify the reasonable and rational, the concerned and caring, the frail and weak, the minorities and immigrants as a threat to freedom. They, in effect, turn this complex puzzle upside down and lay claim as the only ones to set it right.

I may be reading too much into a jig-saw puzzle, but if we don’t find the means to rid ourselves of these very evil-doers and defeat them totally and utterly in November, we may have to line up way earlier and wait significantly longer to get our hands on a jig-saw puzzle while living in one.

VOTE!

PANDEMIC DIARY

My First Cup

July 14, 2020

My first cup of coffee is no longer rushed or harried. I don’t gulp while dressing for work. I don’t stand and devour the last drop as I am heading for the door. No longer do I ‘drive-in’ then navigate a steaming paper cup of coffee while accelerating. I do not hold an attache case in one hand with a folder under the other arm carrying a morning brew attempting to open the door to my office. And, I have not ordered a coffee and bagel from a coffee cart in decades.

Coffee was made at 6:30 this morning.
It is now 8:30. Coffee gone. The day starts.

The regimen of the retired.

Yet, this is the only part of the day that has been and remains a constant. In this new world, I am totally responsible for filling my day…”fulfilling my day”. There is no company, no boss, no directive from anyone. I am not part of a project, plan, system or strategy that relies on me - depends on production of materials, demands a deadline for completion or the generation of a critical report. I am Chairman of the Board, CEO and President of my days. But, wait, wasn’t that always true? Did that fact get lost during all those years?

I am thinking about the personal sacrifices I made, we all make, in compliance with life’s ‘necessities’, demands and obligations?

And, what of ourselves may have been sacrificed?

PANDEMIC DIARY

July 13, 2020

Why am I writing an online diary during this Covid-19 pandemic? I am alone. I feel alone. Why do I feel alone? The word ‘isolated’ comes to mind. I am physically isolated. Ahh, maybe its not the isolation. Might the better word be ‘restricted’. We are not isolated in the strictest sense, and certainly not according to penal code, surrounded by four concrete walls with only the slightest sliver of light streaking briefly across a cell. Yet, at times, the restrictions make it seem as if our walls are contracting and closing in.

I have noticed that the ‘outside’ is now truly outside. No longer is the outside on the other side of your front door. Now, the outside is on the other side of a considered determination and critical decision. Outside lurk aerosols, droplets, transmission, and Covid, floating on each breath, each exhalation. Living is a possible contaminant. You can be an asymptomatic spreader. You wear a mask and you are a wuss, a pansy, a pushover. You don’t wear a mask and you are dumb, gullible, and contemptuous of experts. As never before, the outside, once the refuge from confinement, is filled with negative potentiality such that we choose to stay home. Who wants to catch what’s out there? We used to rush to be outside; now we rush to get home. We used to yearn to go; now we anticipate our safe return.

Nothing spurs greater self-reflection than solitude. I am more contemplative and gravely pensive in light of current events. I have been asking questions of myself and absorbed with musings wistful, dreamy, sober and serious. Each day, in a sentence or two…OK, maybe three or four. I would like to share these with you and ask you to share what you are thinking about.

Again, I welcome you to the Pandemic Diary.