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It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words: “And this, too, shall pass away.” How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction! -A. Lincoln

Dunkirk NY – I am sheltering in place. In some ways, what I am doing is no different than what I have been doing. Apart from the hectic time between this past Thanksgiving and mid-February, during which my mother began to fall weaker and eventually pass away, my days since retirement have been spent at home, learning how to fill in time that was once filled in by my career. It had begun to seem that, with my mother’s passing, I was about to get a little more freedom and finally feel like I could break away and do all the travelling I have wanted to do since retiring.

Now that the coronavirus has hit, all those plans are on hold. I had actually booked a journey through Tennessee for late March-early April, but all those plans have since been canceled. Two non-necessary doctor visits have been canceled. The Fabulous Feast, a fundraiser for Shakespeare in Delaware Park that was supposed to be held last Saturday evening, was canceled. At the moment, I have no plans to go anywhere or do anything. What is more eerie, however, is the reality that I will not even be able to plan any plans or trips for the foreseeable future. It is not so much the day-to-day tasks of living that have changed for me. Rather, it is the sense of changes that will impact the future I seem to be most concerned about.

The Sufi expression above as related by Abraham Lincoln is one I think can easily be applied to the COVID-19 pandemic. But I think it goes even further than that. While things may indeed “pass away,” they will also change, and change profoundly. To say “This, too, shall change” may be as profound or even more profound than merely to observe that they will pass away.

I can look outside my window, and from what I can see, nothing has changed. My Social Security check appeared in my checking account today. I went for a quiet walk in my local state park, as I have been doing for a few weeks, and while nobody was around, that’s actually pretty normal for this time of year in the middle of a weekday. I have done two rounds of stock-up shopping, and was able to procure about all I needed in terms of stocking up on supplies except for powdered milk. I had even fortuitously done our quarterly wholesale food club shopping earlier in March before everything broke loose.

But I know, when I scour the internet for the latest news, that everything has changed. I touch base with my kids a bit more often to insure they are safe and healthy (so far so good). As the economy begins to totter, I see that my retirement funds lose value daily. New social protocols take the place of old ones. The gig economy, built on a house of cards, begins to throw people out of work. Everywhere, there is change.

The hardest part of every day for me is the afternoons. My mornings have a routine now that gets me from the time I wake up until about 1:00 PM. The time between 1-5:30 or so is challenging. The dinner routine restores balance. The evenings can be filled with some sort of media or other. So I have decided to see if I can begin to fill that afternoon slot with more writing. I would rather be travelling, but since that is out of the question, writing seems to be the best way, while sheltering at home, to fill the time. That, and perhaps a chore or two here and there (I dislike chores, but there are closets to clean and file cabinets to empty).

More writing is the change I hope to make. In writing, my aim will be to observe and document the changes I expect will happen. In the short term, none of them will, I suspect, be good. -twl