10 Bored Games to Play While Practicing Physical Distancing (Formerly Known as Social Isolation)

1. List all the things you didn't do yesterday so you would have something to do today and don't do them today so you will have something to look forward to tomorrow.

2. Read all the Facebook posts of people doing whatever they can to assist others and realize you are not nearly as good a person as you pretend to be.

3. Remember to lift the toilet seat when you pee, actually it would be better if you did it before you peed.

4.  Decide that snacking constantly means you are only eating one meal a day.

5. Learn a foreign language, but definitely not French because you stunk at it 50 years ago.

6. Count the new hairs growing out of everything but your bald head.

7. Think about calling someone you haven't spoken to in years but then decide not to because you remember you stopped speaking to each other because they actually never liked you.

8. Stop picking up your cell phone incessantly because you have no new business messages no matter how hard you try to will it to happen.

9. Actually pay attention to what your spouse is saying.

10. Call a Republican just to annoy them.

The Not So Great Escape

There is the iconic scene in The Great Escape of Steve McQueen, a captured soldier in World War II, with baseball and mitt in hand as his defiant reminder of life before the madness, strolling into solitary confinement, emerging weeks later fully intact physically and emotionally. We now realize that scene was pure movie fantasy.

For today each of us, in our version of social distancing, is experiencing just the slightest sense of what it means to be isolated. We still have the Internet, still speak with loved ones regularly, still shop for essentials when we must, most still reside in the company of one or more others and we still occasionally venture outside merely to breathe the air and to witness signs of life. And yet while we are far from alone, we all feel, some more than others, the terrible weight of loneliness. 

Did any of us fully comprehend our need to be in the company of others, whenever and wherever we choose? Did any of us truly understand the damage done to our soul when we cannot feel the touch of all around us, cannot hear the full concert of humanity happening in all directions, cannot see, omnipresent, its rainbow of emotions occurring for our viewing pleasure?

As our houses of worship shutter, our concert halls stand empty, all our places of congregation now and for unknown days hereinafter declared off limits, there is an ache inside us that is shocking in its intensity, hard to fully grasp. 

We are not in social isolation so much as social hell. It is a place dark and foreboding, no matter how many movies or series we have lined up, no matter the books we now read or the music we now hope will somehow fill a massive void.

This is an empty time, frightening in the thought that, at every instant, we await a knock on the door from an unseen enemy, wholly uncertain when we will be able to emerge and resume a semblance of the life we long took for granted.

And while I may decide in the next moment that I will sit down with The Great Escape, I comprehend that, at least for today, there is no great escape from the damage that the Coronavirus is doing to our emotional well being. 

I miss my baseball mitt and ball.

A Tree Fell in the Forest On CNN Last Night

This posed the existential question: what if they had a debate and nobody came?

From a distance of six feet they disagreed for two hours.

They had changed venue, changed cable network, even changed one of the moderators. The two candidates argued to an audience of three. And I don't necessarily mean only in the studio.

To say we were distracted would not begin to describe our collective state of being. It was almost as if they threw these two old guys on the stage just to give us some sense of normalcy, some inkling of a feeling that there would be life on the other side of the Coronavirus.

It felt more in the nature of a public service announcement: "Please be advised that we will get through this and, when we do, remember that Donald Trump will still be sitting in the Oval Office. If you don't stop him, he will likely eradicate not only our democracy, but our very being."

It was, in many ways, almost ludicrous that with this nation seemingly moments from total lockdown, when business as we know it is coming to a complete halt, when schools are shuttered and we are shut in, that the "show" went on. And, maybe tomorrow they too will throw in the towel.

But I appreciated the momentary distraction, the small reminder of what life was like before the apocalypse. And, hopefully, after.

The Boss

She goes through her roll call virtually every time we speak on the phone: Raga, JoJo, Papa. It is not a request, so much as it is a command. You see, now having turned one and a half, she is definitely in charge.

"He-he" she says. And though (at least to my ear) her direction to "sit here" does sound remarkably like she is speaking French, she is not. And "he-he" I scurry, sometimes obediently sitting in a tiny chair that was built for a backside decidedly smaller than mine.

She has learned so much about her universe in such a short time. She knows exactly what the Wheels on the Bus and everyone inside it do. She can Row, Row, Row Her Boat while seated in what looks for all the world like a cardboard box. She can translate various body parts into Spanish as well as English. And one must be certain not to curse in her presence, for she can and will repeat most of what comes out of your mouth, both educational and less so.

And when my wife, son and I "babysit", on occasion she will herd us, giving clear instruction for no one to leave the room just in case she wants to focus her attention in any of our directions.

She has become the boss, smart, engaging, energetic, persistent and totally in control of her environment. It is quite an amazing transition, from helpless infant to master of the universe in a blink of an eye.

Happy one and a half to the best thing since sliced bread. And in a slight variation of the old standard, your command is my wish.

Trump's Follies

Was he really shaking hands with every speaker? And refusing to take a test for Covid 19 because he was not showing symptoms even as the Brazilian President was being tested for contact with the same infected person who was in the company of both leaders? Or not even contemplating self isolation?

His total inability to comport himself as a leader is staggering. Did he really blame the horrific delay on rolling out testing on the virus on an old system that the administration apparently only decided to update this week? Was everyone taking a nap over the past 60 days when the world was imploding? Or was the President's "what's the big deal" attitude the underlying force for everyone sitting on their hands while illness spread across our land?

He is incapable of taking responsibility for his egregious mistakes or handling responsibility when it is thrust upon him. 

Yes,  we know "national emergency" is two very big words, but thank you for reminding us. His opening remarks today were embarrassing, but so are all his efforts at self congratulation combined with riffing (what a nightmare that is).

We are desperately trying to flatten a curve that likely would have been much flatter but for the misdeeds and mistakes of the President. And by flattening a curve we are talking about how many lives will be lost by delay occasioned by the President's hubris, negligence, incompetence or sheer stupidity (you are free to pick one or more from this list).

If you and I survive it will not be because of, but in spite of Donald Trump.

And what worse indictment of our leader could there be?

Mr. Trump's Oval Office Address on the Coronavirus

He is still trying to build his Wall.

Note to the president: the Coronavirus is here, it is exponentially expanding and it requires our immediate and complete attention.

Don't tell us you are suspending traffic from Europe, with some seemingly hard to explain exceptions including an on its face bizarre exclusion for the United Kingdom.

Rather tell us what we are doing here and how to protect those among us. Tell us of medical readiness, of our own travel concerns, of the extent of aggressive tactics we must take in our business lives, in our schools, in our places of entertainment.  For how long and in what ways MUST we change the essential manner in how we comport ourselves? 

Why are we not yet testing vast portions of our population? When we will be ready to do so?

Mr. Trump, you are our leader. LEAD. You have the facts at your disposal. TELL US THE HARD TRUTHS. 

This is not a foreign invasion. Not your Mexican fantasy, not your ban on travel by Islamic people into this country. This is not, as so much in your presidency has been, merely a manufactured crisis of your imagination. It is as real as it gets.

Every person with Coronavirus is likely to pass it on to two or three others. 

Look around Mr. Trump. Italy is speaking to us. Their country is now shut down. Where do they differ from us? Their numbers were much as ours but a few days ago.

It is time for you to stop treating your office with utter disdain. Time to stop treating this nation with such disdain. Time to do your job Mr. Trump.

This is a matter of our very survival.

DO YOUR JOB.

Joe Biden and Fireside Chats

("The Democrats Are Moderately Excited")

I believe we have established three essential criteria for the Democratic nominee:

1. Is he (excuse me Tulsi Gabbard) likeable?

2. Do his policies worry me?

3. Can he defeat Donald Trump?

Yes, I understand #3 is the only issue that matters, but we have learned the others are necessary predicates.

The Democratic party has settled on a choice between two old shoes. After considering various colors, shapes and sizes, all were discarded save for two men who have been in the public eye for a very long time. Given our grave sense of unease from the madness emanating from the White House, familiarity with the Democratic candidates did not, at least in this instance, breed contempt.

Joe Biden makes us comfortable in ways Bernie Sanders never could. Having an attachment to "no drama Obama" certainly provides Mr. Biden a solid underpinning, whether or not his policies actually match those of #44.

As it turns out, Democrats don't favor confrontation in this moment, not with Republicans and not with our established manner of being.

And with the Coronavirus now wreaking havoc with our collective psyche, our energy for all out war has been further dissipated.

While we hope that our math is correct and that one plus two equals three, our party has now decided to throw their hat in with a man whose heart seems most often in the right place and whose words (at least a vast portion) give us thoughts of peace, of calm.

Who better than Joe to bring us our milk and cookies? Fireside chats anyone?

In the Land of What If

I know it is nothing more than what has afflicted me a thousand times before, nothing but a small head cold, only an occasional sneeze, merely a bit of a stuffy nose.

But I wait and wonder if there is a cough to come, if my temperature will spike, if, if, if, if. It is the world in which we now reside, populated by concerns whether hands are sufficiently washed, your own face now an enemy to be avoided. An unpardonable sin to bring your own fingers in contact with your own mouth, nose or eyes.

Did I actually hear someone cough across the room? Is that person sweating, does he look unwell?

These are the thoughts I try to suppress all day as I hope to live my life without  fear overtaking my eyesight, my hearing, my sense of touch, without overreaction becoming the new normal, without cataclysm hiding around each corner, without the virus waiting impatiently for my arrival on every bus, train or plane, every door knob, every elevator button. Even though this most damn sickness is not everywhere, it is. Even though you are still well, you may not be. Even though still I am well, well am I still?

Today we live in certainty the worst is yet to come, sure that there are harder times ahead. My goal is to not to surrender to that impulse, to find a center of calm within myself, to find something other than the neon lit danger sign omnipresent in the universe.

With one foot in front of the other I greet today. Maybe with eyes behind my head, but trying my best to look at what is in front of me, circumspect but not consumed with worry of what is coming to grab me from behind.

Coronavirus

I have been reluctant to post this week, feeling the magnitude of events dwarfed the significance of anything I might attempt to add to the conversation

The Coronavirus has much of the world in its grip. From democracy to autocracy to brutal dictatorship, none are safe from its forces. And wherever one may be in the globe, every cough elicits concern, every word that there is illness in the area brings a shiver to the heart.

And in our common sentiments there should be a common purpose. For we are no longer separate bodies at war with each other in spirit if not in fact. We are no longer foreigners, immigrants. No longer with borders or walls. No longer rich or poor. No longer black or white. No longer Democrat or Republican. No longer American, Russian, Chinese or North Korean.

In this moment we all share a single enemy. In this moment we all require a single purpose. In this moment we all are but as one. For if you are ill, I stand a greater risk of falling. And if I am ill those I love are closer to harm than they should ever be.

So I hope, in all that results from a virus that causes such unrest, we discover a shared humanity. And if and when the Coronavirus is but a line in the history books, that we are changed for the better for having survived its terrible grip and learned its frightening lesson.

A Day in the Life

It was one of those days for me.

It began innocuously enough. I had recently gotten a pair of sweat pants to wear around the house. The kind where it is hard to tell the front from the back. At least for me.

"Are your pants on backwards" my wife asked in that incredulous, yet resigned to spending the rest of her life with this idiot, tone that connotes both wonder and despair.

"Well, there is no way to know the difference" I informed her in an almost pleading voice that spoke of my desperate incompetency.

"You have drawstrings" my son announced. No I don't I thought, although I knew I was clearly overmatched by the complexity of this attire.

"I have to text my sister", but then he took pity on me and let it go. And so this would merely be recorded in my book of life as episode 10,321, or something like that, in the chronicles of why I am a danger to myself and others.

And then it got worse. By a lot.

My wife and I planned a short hike with our son in law, our 17 month old granddaughter, along with a couple who was visiting them with their 7 month old son.

Anyway, it was a morning marked by an unexpected, beautiful snowstorm. And thus our hike along a somewhat turbulent stream leading to a churning waterfall was picture perfect (actually a few pictures perfect). I had begged off the task of photographer, leaving it to my wife, knowing if the job had fallen to me there would be many images of my finger and little else. 

As the walk concluded, I choreographed our journey back home: a stop at Crossroads, a great lunch place a few miles away, then dropping my wife and me off at our apartment before the rest wandered back to the house my daughter and son-in-law had rented. As I was the one most familiar with this area, I would direct from the passenger seat in the lead car, my wife, son-in-law and granddaughter trailing in the second vehicle.

"Did you miss the turn for Crossroads?" It was my wife calling, that how did that happen question ringing in my ear. The truth is I had forgotten. In the minutes that it took from my mapping out our future to it actually transpiring, the thoughts had left my brain and were lying somewhere by the side of the road, shivering from the cold, bewildered and totally exposed to the elements.

"Don't worry." It was now my son in law's voice. "We will just head home, put the kids down for a nap and figure out lunch then." You see, my family is actually quite protective of me and their words most often treat me with tender care, my inadequacies hidden behind their affection.

My sole remaining task was to direct my driver, the weekend guest of my daughter and son in law, to my residence.

"Did you forget to tell him to turn on our street?" It was my wife calling again. And yes, I most definitely had. We were now a block or two past the left we were intended to make, but there was an easy alternate route available.

"It is not a big deal. It is just as fast this way." Even my driver, who was not otherwise aware of just how utterly damaged a being I was, had caught on. He too was excusing my glaring deficiencies in an obvious act of charity.

Shortly thereafter, I arrived home, safe though clearly not very sound. Despite my worst intentions, no one got hurt in the making of this movie, and the small caravan exited for their destination.

As I entered the apartment and took off my coat, I reached into my pocket and felt two little objects that were not where they should have been at that moment. I pulled out my phone and, in a deflated, quick burst spoke with my son in law one more time. 

"I have your daughter's gloves."