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

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