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It’s cold.

The current temperature is 32° with a wind chill of 25°. There is snow on the ground from yesterday evening’s snowfall. It looked for all the world like a mid-February snowstorm for about 30 minutes. The snow is not much – maybe half an inch or so – but enough to cover the grass. More snow is forecast for Friday afternoon, maybe 1-2″. Average temperatures for the remainder of this week and into next week are 15° below normal. The average high in April is 55°. That’s not going to happen for at least the next seven days.

The weather is just another factor in making the stay-in-place guidance just that much harder to bear. The T.S. Eliot phrase “April is the cruelest month” from The Wasteland never had more resonance than now. Spring always arrives in the Northeast last, and even the first 10 days of May can feel much like winter. It would be more tolerable if the weather were just a touch warmer, so one could sit outside in the sun and escape the dry air of a heated house. Being safe and warm in a cozy heated house is a great feeling in late January; not so much in mid-April.

There was one day this month where I was able to take a chair and my book outside and sit directly in the sun for a few hours. It was warm enough that I got the sensation of being sunburned. On my walk yesterday, however, the feeling was different. No one was on my usual loop. It was cold, cloudy, and the wind off the lake was noticeable. Two hours later it was snowing.

The world now seems to be Eliot’s wasteland. One can’t really take in the full enjoyment of the coming spring. I fear that the coming warm weather will be too much for people to resist, and they will want to get out to the beaches and parks and other summertime recreational areas. I am looking forward to being able to sit in the fresh air in my screened-in porch or my backyard. That will be enough for me. I am not sure it will be enough for a lot of other people. The coming spring and summer has much potential for much more wasting of lives.  -twl

Dunkirk NY – We are now existing within the perfect shitstorm. Three elements have forcefully combined to turn an entire culture and nation into a distressed and dysfunctional mess. What we will become once we extricate ourselves from the ruins of the pandemic is anyone’s guess, but one thing is for certain: we will not be the same as we were.

Element #1 of this shitstorm is the novel coronavirus itself – SARS-CoV-2. It produces the disease known as COVID-19. There is little to be gained here in writing about this virus, as there are reams and reams of digital copy out there. It is a force of nature, with no concern at all about the human condition other than its attempt to replicate itself in its next host. Its absolute power lies in its complete indiscretion about who it infects, and the fact that we have no known defense against it.

Element #2 is a corrupt, inefficient government run by incompetent oligarchs who care nothing about the human beings placed in their care. The sheer size and scope of the incompetence is beyond anything one could imagine. We can only hope against hope that this shitstorm does not bring the whole apparatus crumbling to the ground. We are governed by people who will not hesitate to sacrifice human lives at the altar of their egos, power, and wealth. Of the few things you can count on these days, you can assuredly count on that.

Element #3 is a culture that emphasizes individual choice and liberty over the common welfare and safety. We are not the same society that fought WW2. Asking modern-day Americans to act in the common good, when throughout their whole lives they have been taught to value their personal freedoms and achieve their personal goals, is asking for a miracle. It is not surprising that people are hoarding supplies or traveling from hotspots to second homes. The virus is attacking us exactly where we are weakest as a society, and exposing the cultural rifts that will come to haunt us in the future. To be sure, the media is doing its best to tell stories of self-sacrifice and courage, but this is a virus that does not care if you sing on rooftops. The more the infection and death toll rises, the more you can be sure people will take action in their personal self-interest and survival.

What the wreckage from this shitstorm will lead to, I have no idea. Being an optimistic realist, my initial reaction is that the best we can hope for right now is for the virus to burn itself out and leave as little death in its wake as possible. I am uncertain we will be able to get in front of it until we get a respite from it. The human toll has been, and will be, pretty significant, but I am equally concerned about the economic toll. The fight over the aid package in the Senate tells me that the economic toll on human lives will be just as great over time as the biological toll. The struggle will be between those who want a society that protects the weakest among us against those who want to maintain their positions of power and privilege. Brace yourselves for a vicious fight. -twl

Dunkirk NY – Today is the first day that has really exhausted me mentally. It’s cold and wet outside, and it seems that following the news today was a harbinger of a coming week that will be worse than last week.

I have established something of a routine at this point, which is helpful but not completely satisfying. The morning is always coffee and the news. I do not watch television news, preferring to read available sources on the web. Occasionally I will listen to public radio, but I’ve found that I absorb news better when I can read selectively rather than being bombarded by media voices. Breakfast and showering and dressing follow. This can take me anywhere from 10:30 to 11:30 AM depending on how much I read.

The afternoon is spend doing whatever odd tasks or business needs to be handled. Mostly this includes answering emails, following up on a bill or two, but nothing too demanding. Not having work from a job has certainly reduced this part of my life substantially. If I choose to write, I can do it now or after my walk, which I take anywhere between 1-3 PM. There are days when I might substitute all this time with a recorded sporting event, either cricket or baseball. Yesterday, for example, I watched the Yankees lose the 2001 World Series to the Diamondbacks all over again.

Anywhere between 5-7 PM is dinner time. If my wife needs help with preparing the meal I pitch in, otherwise I let her alone in the kitchen because cooking is how she fills her time. I do all the cleaning up after dinner.

Evenings are the hardest. I am not by nature someone who enjoys consuming media. I don’t like TV or movies, which of course is the main source of entertainment for most people. I’m not a board game or computer game fan. I like cards, but mostly poker. My wife, on the other hand, is much the opposite. So I spend time most evenings now watching some sort of show. We’ve almost caught up on all of Star Trek: Discovery, and are following Star Trek:Picard as well. I go back to some older shows like Cheers and Peter Gunn (last year in Washington I watched in sequence all the Monty Python shows). I’m trying to like media more, but I am just unaccustomed to sitting passively in front of a TV set. It feels wrong all the time.

As the situation gets worse, planning will become more complicated, and I can’t help but wonder when it will become impossible. There are times when I stare out the window, expectantly waiting for the marauding hordes to descend. What I see in the news and what I see outside my window are two very separate realities, and I wonder when they will eventually meet. While I have taken steps so far to get through the next few weeks, I wonder what steps I should be taking to get through the next few months. And with a completely dysfunctional federal government, the difficulty becomes far worse and much more unstable.

I think I scan the news so much because I keep thinking that I will find at some point a story that will tell me we’ve turned a corner. But I know that won’t be coming soon. People keep saying things will open up in April, but I am not so sure. The scars this whole situation will leave will be jarring, like scars from having acid thrown on your face. It is one thing to surgically repair injuries after an accident, but it’s another to really gain all the previous strength back. I am not thinking in terms of months, but years.  -twl

Dunkirk NY – The hardest thing for me to come to terms with in these drastically changing times is the feeling that there are no more destinations. The one thing I tended to think about every day when I got up is “where can I go today?” Aside from taking a walk in the local park, nowhere. It’s not that I often went someplace, mind you. But the removal of even the possibility of going somewhere is now off the table.

On top of this, the feeling of being in two mindsets at once is difficult to reconcile psychologically. When I look out the window, nothing at all appears to have changed. I watched my neighbor across the street raking winter leaves from the edge of his driveway. People walk up and down the sidewalk. There seem to be no more or no less cars going up and down the street. If I were completely shut off from the news, I’d hardly know of any difference.

Looking at news reports, though, makes me understand that the outside world is blowing up in many ways. Streets in major cities are empty. Hospitals are under duress. Businesses are closed, and people do not congregate as they once did in the streets.

I sense on occasions that, on top of social distancing, I have to practice cognitive distancing by trying to separate myself from the news. But it’s hard. When I walk in the park I think of people with no way to get to the park. When I eat a meal I think of all the people that won’t be eating a meal. When I check my portfolio I think of all the people losing jobs and paychecks. My mind can’t resolve this kind of large-scale dissonance, and so cognitive distancing becomes a way of coping.

In a rather ironic way, these three years I’ve taken since retirement to withdraw and chill have served the present moment well, in that I am now quite used to spending my days with my wife at home. Apart from not having to go to the store too often (about the only task I’ve been doing on something of a regular basis), little has changed for me. But so much has drastically and suddenly changed for others. I think in the upcoming months, managing the current situation will require a thorough practicing of cognitive distancing. I can only hope the effort will not corrupt any sense of empathy for other people who are in far worse situations than I am.  -twl