90.67

 Good news for Bostonians.

Today I decided to take my walk downtown.  I started near Northeastern, walked all the way down to Quincy Market and back. Probably given the circuitous route I took--owing to some construction and choices intended to mix up the scenery--it was a 6 mile trek.  

About ten minutes in I decided to do an informal study. I wanted to see how many of those pedestrians passing me were wearing masks.  The rules (that I made up were) the people had to be adults and had to be walking towards me.  I wasn't swiveling my head around to do the counting and was not looking to the right or left. Just straight ahead.

I counted 300 folks. Two hundred and seventy two of them were wearing masks.  That, for the mathematically challenged is 90.67 per cent.  This was comforting to me.  And it is better than that.  Of those that I counted who were NOT wearing masks, many of these people had masks but did not have their masks up.  At least three people were smoking or drinking coffee so maybe I should have cut them some slack.  Only about six people out of 300 had no masks on at all.  I found that very reassuring.

I'd not been downtown in quite some time. Some things I noted.  (1) About a third of Quincy Market eateries were closed. There were still some people in the building but not nearly as many as the number that typically jam the place.  (2) Lots of bars and restaurants that would be having holiday brunches on New Year's Day were dark and did not look like they'd been open in a spell. Some places were open and I was sad to see that the tables therein that were close to the windows did not seem to be socially distanced. (3) There was a major line outside of a bakery on a forty degree day, but not much going on in the several Starbucks and Dunkin' Doughnuts I passed.  (4) There is still a good deal of construction in Boston despite the pandemic. Several detours for pedestrians.  (5) Not much motor traffic on New Year's Day. I was able to cross streets that are typically heavily trafficked even on holidays, without much difficulty. (6) Only one person was screaming obscenities at a driver he deemed to be driving poorly. This, for a two hour jaunt, must be a record of some sort for this city.

Maybe I just live in a responsible place, or maybe people all over are, increasingly, wise to the reality that masking up can save lives. 

New Year's Eve-Covid Style

 For the last ten or so years, we have celebrated New Year's eve with the same couple. There have been one or two times when Donna has not been back from Virginia in time and it was just the three of us--and there was once when I had been in Florida at the condo--but remove these exceptions-and it is the four of us year after year.

There's an Italian restaurant in Sudbury which is very festive with new year's balloons, a happy crowd, and a fixed menu.  That has been a first choice.  If that place is packed or the roads icy, we have gone to a hoo hah seafood restaurant closer to home. One year, we went to a restaurant even more local.  

Most years we consume, then go to one or the other's home, pour champagne, eat dessert, fight to stay up to see the ball drop- and then we drop.

This year, there was no Virginia because of COVID, and no restaurant.  The four of us met on Zoom. We poured drinks, discussed the state of the Patriots, the Georgia election, the January 6th nonsense, laughed a bit about various things, and then knocked drinks back and toasted to happier times.  Our foursome's New Year's celebration ended at 7 pm.  Then the two of us ate some Thai food Donna brought in, watched a movie, had ice cream, and were asleep before they dropped the ball--if they dropped the ball.  Wild night.

I hope that I will be around in 20 years-(a gulp when writing this) to look back on this December 31/January 1, and realize how peculiar these times have been.  Nobody going out on New Year's. Restaurants instead of inviting patrons with festive balloons, announcing how you can order your take-out. I don't know for a fact but I bet the liquor stores--while more active than on a typical Thursday--were less crowded because there were fewer parties that required the guest to bring a bottle, or a host to buy dozens. No crazy crowds in downtown Boston waiting for fireworks, while guzzling bottles of whatever.  No parade--a fun time-down Boylston Street.  No ice sculptures. 

Instead of blowing horns (to be truthful, my horn blowing years have been infrequent since Y2K) and preparing for a wild time, I spent a good deal of  yesterday walking and finishing a book. Walking for exercise--because the gym is closed and has, essentially, been closed since the end of February--and reading a book because, hey, everything else is closed as well.  The book was a collection of essays, mostly about folks with a hole in their hearts.  The last essay was particularly moving, as it was about a writer who had promised his dad that he would take him to the Master's golf tournament--but then his dad died suddenly.

I thought quite a bit yesterday, about time lost and opportunities lost. A precious commodity, time. And in 2020 we lost a good deal of it.  Sure, the time indoors gave us hours to focus on projects that we could do on computers. I learned new technology and how to apply it to teaching.  I finished writing a book without typical distractions (and without physical access to libraries which was a challenge. Good news here is that my university library was extraordinarily helpful with electronic resources and there are not enough good words to utter for how the Waltham public library dealt with its patrons).  Because of Zoom, I ironically, had easy contact with friends and university colleagues and probably spent more time in healthy gatherings and meetings, than I would have, had I not learned or been forced to learn to Zoom.  Nevertheless, there are holes in hearts that cannot be addressed with technology.

I read a clever new year's resolution on facebook yesterday.  Someone wrote or reposted that at the start of 2020 he had made a new year's resolution to lose ten pounds--and at the end of the year he only had 14 pounds to go.  

Can we in 2021 not take steps back.  Assuming we shed this plague, can we enjoy the precious opportunities mask-less time brings.  Embrace those we love. Hug and kiss recklessly to make up for not being able to love and kiss. Address the holes in our hearts.  Time, again, will be on our side.

Unmasked

This evening I began watching CNN. I saw two stories. One about the Supreme Court decision and a second about COVID policies. In each an expert or experts were brought in to comment on the issues.

Then I switched to FOX to see if that station would acknowledge the Supreme Court decision. There I also watched a story about COVID and the Supreme Court decision.

The two networks' reporting were antithetical. On Fox, it was as if I was watching a story from a government sponsored station in a dictatorship.

I can see now why Fox viewers might feel as if there is no need to wear a mask or change their behavior during the pandemic. The Fox expert sounded exasperated that the governor of Michigan had tightened restrictions on businesses. He asserted that COVID really only hurts old people and those with preexisting conditions. The rest of the population should not be restricted. On CNN three doctors were concerned about the surge of cases.

Two experts discussing the Supreme Court decision on Fox contended that despite the decision the fight to reverse the election results was not over. An expert on CNN asserted that the Supreme Court decision ended any remaining notions that Trump would emerge as the victor. Two completely opposite perspectives.

I see the president speaking about how he won and claiming that "everyone" knows he's won.  He was unmasked when he made the statement.  Our president has lost touch with reality.  And his, for all purposes, government run television station is supporting foolish and dangerous behavior.

Four More Years

 I read today that President Trump phoned the governor of Georgia, urging him to overturn the results in that state. When the governor, a Republican, refused Trump double downed on his prior condemnations of the governor.  

We have not seen such reprehensible behavior in the 244 years of our American history.  Compared to the various claims undermining what was a fair election--without any evidence to support the accusations--what Nixon did-(Nixon, no small slime ball in his own right)  committed something akin to jaywalking with his various Watergate transgressions.

How many offenses has Trump committed in the month since the election alone.  He did not concede an election he lost disrupting a smooth and safe transition.  He threatened those who were in charge of the election. He implicitly encouraged or at least did not discourage violence against those who honestly tried to count votes.  He ignored a raging medical crisis to monomaniacally attempt to reverse the people's will.  He went to the podium to praise the Dow Jones breaking 30,000 while there are people and small businesses sinking. He is, more actively than ever before, destroying the Republican party.  And he has stolen money from the very people who supported him by soliciting contributions that will line his pockets.

Great. Four more years.

Thanksgiving 2020

 Outside our living room window this morning, we both heard a god awful screech.  We looked outside and a man in a white car is, very dangerously, doing wheelies in the parking lot of our neighboring park.  He is driving speedily, and then quickly jerking the car in another direction such that some wheels come off the ground and the car, when it rights itself, swivels dangerously.  It is pouring outside this morning. He is racing near a path where we and neighbors often walk. Nearly always there is at least one parent with a baby carriage strolling on the path.  If this was a mild day, the crazed driver could and likely would cause a horrific tragedy.

So what prompts someone to do what this man is doing?  Here is how I deconstruct it. Quite possibly just a wild guess not on the mark.

The fellow wakes up on Thanksgiving. And he believes he has nothing to be thankful for. He is alone, his spouse has left; his children away and not concerned with the dad.  In the midst of COVID he spends his days in a small apartment with no real place to go.  His job looks rocky if it exists at all. COVID has resulted in downsizing and he is living on the edge of solvency with bills coming in that he does not see how he will pay. The people in the next unit play their music too loud, and the noise from their frolicking children reminds him of how empty is his life.  He recounts all the bad turns he has taken to bring him to where he sits.  So, with these negative thoughts coursing through his head, and nothing to do, he gets into his car on a pouring rainy day and drives recklessly in a park where skidding could cause him to smash his car into a brick refreshment stand near the baseball field, the fence for the tennis courts, the pole that supports the basketball hoops, or something, God forbid, human.

The chances are his world is not as bleak as he thinks it is when he gets behind the wheel, but that is the way the head works when one event tumbles onto another on a holiday and one is feeling sad, disrespected, and useless.

Sad to consider this scenario.  But an opportunity to be thankful for all the blessings we have, and maybe an opportunity to reach out to someone who you fear might be having a similarly bad day--particularly on this COVID Thanksgiving.

Stationery

 What with the bizarre aftermath of the election, with a sitting president of a country founded on democratic principles attempting to undermine that very democracy; what with a pandemic now nearly a year in, exacerbated by the inactivity of leaders including a bona fide head in the tuchas governor of South Dakota who encouraged spreading behavior; what with weather concerns making our environment and the survival of our descendants risky---the following should not be a big deal. But it bugs me.

I woke up today thinking that I need to get a new address book. I have relied on the computer for keeping address and phone number information the last years, and the address books that I used to update annually have not been so updated. I went to write a new address in one of the old books and noted, sadly, that two people on the very page where I wanted to place the new person, are now dead.

I decided that I would get a new book.  Because I am averse to shopping in stores in general, and am cautious in this COVID era about going into any store--and also because I am an Amazon prime member, I figured to do my purchasing on-line. 

I did. I bought my address book. And then I remembered that I had some thank you notes that I wanted to send out. Again, with the advent of computers and generally new technology, I tend to write thank you notes on line.  But I like, at times, to write out notes.  My handwriting is terrible so I prefer pads that have lines on them.  So, after purchasing my address book I went to buy some thank you notes with lines. And that decision prompted this early morning blog.

It prompted the blog because the first several entries on Amazon for stationery, spelled stationery wrong.  These are stationery companies! and they spelled stationery wrong--stationary not stationery.

I guess it is a good thing the companies aren't going anywhere (a joke for all who can spell) but this is an annoyance to a prig like me who feels the least a stationery company can do is learn to spell stationery correctly.  

Does it matter.

Yes it matters.

First it matters because I decided not to purchase any product that spelled the word incorrectly. They can survive without my 20 bucks but perhaps there will be a movement that will gain momentum.

Second it matters because these are two words. One refers to paper and writing products, the other refers to the lack of motion.  "Charlie we need to send out notes about our change of address. Get me some stationary so we can let people know we're not the kind of business that stays stationery."  Write that, and your company might as well be stationary because it is not going anywhere.

It is six am and perhaps I am grouchy anticipating the latest attempt to destroy our country by an amoral megalomaniac; Republican legislators who have the backbone of weak mollusks; and Democratic legislators who are afraid to say boo, thinking--with no sense of history whatsoever--that this all will blow over.  Just like in Germany.

Don't sell stationery calling it stationary or-- I am out to get you.

Early morning, easy listening.

 Even when I was a young man, when the Doors, Beatles, Stones, and Airplane were my popular groups--even when I would then, bring a beer bottle near my lips and croon raucously into the empty vessel along with Morrison or Slick--even then--to the amused surprise of contemporaries--I liked easy listening stations.  

For my 20th birthday, my folks gave me dough to buy a new alarm clock/radio.  I went to a place on Hempstead Turnpike and bought a snazzy one that cost more than the gift, but it had a few features which, now, are comically primitive but then were hoo hah. It could wake you up to music, or if you prefer an alarming buzz.  It had FM, not a standard feature in the first years of the Nixon administration.  The radio wasn't as slick as what was becoming fashionable in the dormitories--multi component stereo systems with separate speakers, turntables, and what we called receivers.  But for a stand alone radio it was handsome and multifaceted such that a number of folks who bounced into the room would ask about it.  It's best feature for me was that it had a sleep function.  You could put the radio on at night, and set a timer.  You could snooze to music and then not be awakened by it, because it--miraculously--knew enough to shut itself off after the certain time you'd set it for.   

And at night just before I slipped off into oblivia, (spell check tried to change that to Bolivia) I'd set the radio station to an easy listening station and set it to wake me up with the same soft crooners in the a.m.  For years, even to date, the women who deigned to spend time with me found this a remarkable aberration from what was my personality. The same guy who loved Surrealistic Pillow, mellowed out listening to instrumental renditions of the Impossible Dream, Leaving on a Jet Plane, Moon River, and Send in the Clowns.  

Had some trouble sleeping last night.  Does not happen regularly, but last night was up at 4.  Started a new book which I thought might do the trick, but did not.  So, I got up.  Went to the computer and found ESCAPE on my sirius favorites.  Moon River, as a matter of fact, is coming through the speakers right now.  

We like Classical Music in the morning when we read the newspaper.  There is a tolerance for ESCAPE for short periods, but after a spell, I am asked politely to put something else on.  Had a girlfriend in the 80s who was willing to listen for extended periods, but I think that was only because she liked me. One day, when on vacation, we were staying in a remote spot in Maine by a lake.  I had the easy listening station on all day while we were reading.  Around dusk she just exploded.  There was a limit to what she could stand even for a fellow whom she thought was a decent catch.

Here I am at three score and ten, pushing three score and eleven--pushing real hard in fact.  When I was in my 20s listening to my new fangled radio late at night, and listening to a station that my colleagues felt suitable for people three score and ten, pushing three score and eleven--I did not know I would be still finding comfort in easy listening.  Don't misunderstand. I can still get the beer bottle out and bang it out with Morrison and Slick. This, to young-uns is as aberrant as my listening to Andy Williams in the 60s was to contemporaries.  I guess one could say I have, and have had, eclectic musical tastes. 

Probably be able to go back to sleep now.  Bouncy rendition of "Help Me Rhonda" on a moment ago. Now, "They Call the Wind Mariah" from Paint Your Wagon.  Zs for Z.