Seeds of doubt

As I noted yesterday, I'm staying with my aunt and uncle for the Thanksgiving holiday. And this morning I found myself briefly discussing the politics of COVID-19 with my aunt.

For years my aunt has identified herself as a "yellow-dog Democrat": one who would vote for any Democrat over any Republican, no matter what. And in general her political positions have been reliably those of the Democratic Party. But she remarked this morning that she had asked herself more than once, "If Donald Trump had won re-election in 2020, would she have trusted the COVID-19 vaccine that came out in 2021?" 

Of course, politically speaking in the USA, Democrats have tended to support the COVID-19 vaccines, and hesitancy or distrust has been expressed mostly by Republicans. But my aunt seemed to recognize that this alignment was in some ways peculiar: "Why  did those of us who believed what our government told us about the disease actually believe it, when we know that our government has lied to us before?"

This is a question I have heard many times from Republicans, when they want to accuse Democrats of hypocrisy on the issue of COVID-19. But I think that hypocrisy might be too simple an accusation. Certainly my aunt realizes that there is some kind of inconsistency here, and it bothers her. In retrospect I wonder if she was trying to elicit a firm statement from me one way or the other, to find out where I stand. If that was her aim, then I hope I evaded her. But I did suggest that it may have been no more than a historical accident that the parties aligned the way they did around the vaccines, and not the opposite way.

It's not a red pill yet, but the conversation did expose seeds of doubt. I think those are healthy, and I'm glad to see them.

__________

P.S.: My own position on the vaccines is ill-formed. I do not have strong opinions pro or con, and the information that I hear is too confusing for me to make sense of. I am intrigued by (and sympathetic to) John Michael Greer's hypothesis, but I don't commit to any specific explanation or account.

          

In other news ....

In other news, it's been two days since I've heard anything from Marie. Right now I think we're kind of pissed off with each other, although I haven't had a lot of time to think about it the last day or so, for obvious reasons. I think it started last week when we were talking and it came out that I wasn't up to date on COVID vaccinations, nor had I gotten this year's flu shot. My opinion on either of these isn't exactly doctrinaire, but I'm unconvinced of the need for COVID boosters (as I explained recently) and hadn't gotten around to getting a flu shot. 

A couple days later, Marie sent me an email ordering me to get both sets of shots, or else give her a damned good reason why not. When I was silent for a couple days more, she followed up with a letter apologizing for calling me "stupid" but reiterating how desperately important these shots are. I answered saying that it's very hard to accept direct orders from a partner while retaining any self-respect, or indeed to reply with anything other than "Go fuck yourself." And she said simply, "Thank you for clarifying how this disagreement looks to you."

We haven't said anything to each other since. At this point I assume we'll talk on Monday evening as usual, and work it out there. I have some thoughts about what might be behind the whole situation, but whenever I try to read other people's minds I'm usually wrong. So maybe I'd better just wait and see. 

No opinions

I'm flying home from a week visiting Marie, and I heard an announcement at one airport: "This airport uses facial recognition software. Please remove your mask and look straight into the camera. If you prefer not to use this software, please speak to a gate agent ahead of time."

Am I crazy that this worries me? It's not like the use of facial recognition software has been entirely benign everywhere else that it has been introduced. (*cough* China! *cough*) There's an argument that I have nothing to worry about, so long as I do nothing wrong; but to assume that no innocuous actions will ever be reclassified as "wrong" is to assume a level of virtue and probity in every single one of our elected and appointed officials which seems ... I don't know ... maybe "optimistic" is the gentlest word to express what I mean.

Also I wonder if this is the wave of the future? Will it become universal? I suppose I could always stop traveling by air if I don't want to deal with it. That sure sounds practical.

Of course my defense in cases like this is never to do anything overtly non-compliant, and to rely on being boring. Not only do I try to avoid doing anything non-compliant, but I try to avoid doing anything that calls attention to myself at all. And I never express opinions. 

Kissing on the edge in Debbie's new house

You remember a couple weeks ago, when I posted a brief note about why we travel? I was writing that from Debbie's new house, the one I told you about here. I was there for a week-long visit, after first traveling to my first-ever college reunion (my 40th).

There's plenty to talk about in the story of my travel there, and the tourist-like things we did during the week. But those are the boring things, the things I tell my family. And Marie. You don't care about any of that stuff.

The emotional side, though, was interesting. And maybe it got awfully close to the edge.

The way the house is laid out, Debbie has a little two-room apartment with its own kitchen and bathroom; then Mattie and her husband (and their two kids) have the rest of the house. For a number of perfectly sensible reasons (having to do with possible COVID-infection), Debbie and I isolated in her apartment when we weren't going out. She slept in her bedroom and I slept on the sofa bed in her living room. So far, so good.

Every night, after I had brushed my teeth and just before I tucked myself into the sofa bed, I exited the bathroom through her bedroom (the only access) and came over to say "Good night." Every night, we kissed gently on the lips—a closed-mouth kiss, if you want to call it that, but slow and sweet and delicate. And then we would hug and say "Good night." The very first night, after I had slogged through a lot of travel and other trouble, I told her, "You know I love you." She smiled and said "I love you too."

One night there was a full moon. We went outside and walked down the lane a ways to look at it through the trees. We stood right next to each other, and I draped my arm around her waist—finally, again, after all these years! (But I was careful not to do anything like that again during the whole visit.) This is the text message she later sent to a sangha-friend of hers, that she copied me on:

We just went outside to see the strawberry moon and were treated to a magical MidWest performance by Mother Earth!!! Oh my gosh!  Fireflies all across the prairie grass meadows and up into the trees...  bullfrogs singing... the wind blowing through the rustling leaves of the trees,  flashes of lightning in the distance... Wildlife sounds hidden among the bushes and trees... and the strawberry moon just above the horizon!  It was magnificent!

At the end of the week she dropped me off at the airport. After I'd pulled my luggage out of her car, we kissed again, just like we had done every night except this time we kissed twice. She said something about needing to be careful, and I replied, "I'm being good." She said, "Maybe, but I think we are right up against the line," and I answered, "And now I'm getting on an airplane."

As we drove to the airport she had invited me obliquely to come visit again in late August, and maybe join her for a road trip across the country. (So I don't think I'm the only one who is pushing the boundaries here! See also our plans for hiking the West Highland Way.) A few days later she emailed me some more details. I emailed back some thoughts about it, but then added that I had been thinking about her parting words. I didn't have any conclusions yet, but they had been on my mind. Her reply was:

I appreciate your reflections on my remarks as we said goodbye at the airport.  Those sweet, tender kisses were lovely.  I just imagined that if Marie were to see us kissing like that or were aware of how close we become when we spend time together, that she would feel sad and uncomfortable and it would be hurtful to her.  I don't want that.  It would be good to talk about it and I appreciate that you are open to do that.

Wherever we are, we are balancing on a very fine line.

         

Can I sit at the cool kids' table now?

The last five days I've had a low fever, exhaustion, and intermittent diarrhea; today appears to be the first day without the fever or the diarrhea, but I still feel weak and easily worn out. I also have a cough, although that's hardly unusual for me. I have not done any testing yet, to identify what I came down with. And I have not had any trouble breathing (unless you count the cough), nor have I lost my sense of taste. Nonetheless I strongly suspect that it's a variant of COVID-19. So does that mean I can eat lunch with the cool kids now?

Here's the timeline, as well as I can reconstruct it.

The weekend before last, I drove out to visit my Mom. We talked a lot, sat up late, finished off a bottle of wine between us ... that sort of thing. She's been living alone for almost seven years now, and we talked about whether it would be better for her to have someone else living there with her. No immediate commitments, but we both agreed that this is something I could probably do for her, especially if she felt her only other alternative were to move into a care facility. She demurred at first, because caring for my Dad in his last years was so hard for her and she wouldn't want to impose; but I explained that I've already spent years looking after Wife through her various illnesses, so it wouldn't exactly be something new.

Sunday we drove into the Big City to go to a concert at the Philharmonic. And Monday I came home.

Wednesday morning I felt really tired, and my head didn't feel quite right. At first I assumed that maybe I'd had too much to drink the night before, and tried to perk myself up with coffee. Then I took a long nap. When I got up again my head still felt bad, so I took a couple of Tylenol; only after that did I realize that I also felt feverish. I went to bed early that night and slept 13 hours ... except that every time I rolled over I had to get up to pee, even though there was hardly anything coming out. 

Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday ... I began slowly to feel a little better, but still felt feverish (even when my temperature read normal). Today is the first day I haven't really felt feverish, and I actually got myself organized to go out and do my laundry. (High time, too, I might add!) But even that little ambition left me huffing and puffing by the end.

Why do I think it's COVID-19?

On Wednesday, the first day that I felt any symptoms, I exchanged text messages with my mother. She was just then starting to feel rotten as well, in just about the same ways. She too went to bed early. The symptoms and timing matched mine so exactly that it is very likely we have the same thing and got it at the same time. That means in turn that it is unlikely one of us infected the other; probably we both got whatever-it-is at the Philharmonic. 

But the next day (Thursday) she had a regularly-scheduled doctor's appointment for a routine physical. While she was there, he tested her for COVID. And yesterday she texted me that her test came back positive.

So if we probably have the same thing, and if she now tests positive for COVID-19, probably that's what I've got too. It must be a fairly mild case, since I haven't had any of the distinctive COVID-symptoms (like loss of taste). But that would be consistent with my continuing to feel so weak.

Maybe I should go get tested, huh?

        

Death of a Buddha

You may have seen in the news already that Thích Nhất Hạnh died today. This afternoon I got an email addressed to the UU Sangha that I used to attend back before COVID-19, spreading the word. Then in the early evening I logged in for my regular weekly Zoom call with Debbie. She was watching the tail end of a memorial service for him at a Zen retreat center in another state, and I said it would be fine for her to share her screen so we could watch it together.

We talked about him for a long time. Thầy — that's an affectionate nickname for Thich Nhat Hanh and means "Teacher" — is or was the founder and spiritual leader of the tradition Debbie follows. When I mentioned back in 2013 that she was ordained into a lay order, that meant that she had formally received the Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings which ordained her into Thầy's Order of Interbeing. 

She talked about times she had been privileged to hear Thay speak in person. I added that I had seen and heard him in person exactly once, because he was there on the occasion of Debbie's ordination, formally officiating. Then afterwards he gave a dharma talk and took questions for a long time from the group as a whole. Some of the questions came from pretty far out in left field, but Thay answered them all: carefully, respectfully, simply, and compassionately. He was remarkably skillful. Debbie said at one point, "I truly believe he was the Buddha for our day."    

Later she said that all week she had been contemplating one of Thay's poems, "No coming, No going," and that it had helped her come to peace with his death. She added that even though he is physically dead as of today, she can feel his presence around her through his teachings. So in one way she was sad, of course, but in another way not. She was in any event profoundly moved.

After a long while we began to talk about the rest of her week. It has been a tough one. She works as an occupational health nurse, for a clinic system where close to 10% of the staff are sick at home with COVID-19, even as cases among the public in her area are spiking. She has to connect with every staff member who is out sick, and check on their progress, so the clinics can figure out how to reassign staff to maintain their coverage. And she told me, not only was the workload heavy but the emotional weight of it was just as heavy, because so many of her colleagues are sick and suffering, or have family members who are sick and suffering. One was a grandmother, who contracted the disease from her grandson; the grandmother was weathering it well enough, all things considered, but the grandson was in the hospital and intubated. Debbie asked if the grandmother would accept prayer for her grandson, and the grandmother grasped at the offer gratefully. By the time that phone call finished, Debbie added, both she and the grandmother were weeping openly.

She added one other thing, which did not surprise me a bit. One by one, her coworkers have been talking to the president of the clinic system, telling him how grateful they are for Debbie's unstinting help and deep compassion. She told me this only by the way, only to say how grateful she was that she had been able to help them so much. She explicitly rejected the idea that it reflected anything special on her. But — as I say — I wasn't a bit surprised. Debbie's compassion really is almost boundless. It's one of the things I love about her. She would rebuke me sharply for putting it this way, but she is a bit of a saint.

So she talked. I listened, reflected back to her what I heard her saying, and tried to console where I could. I remarked that hard weeks like this are even harder when you can't meet anyone in person, to offer a hug or even hold a hand. (The thought came to me because there were so many times during our call that I just wanted to hold her.) She agreed, and pretty clearly understood what I was saying. When we wrapped up the call, she looked straight into the camera and said:

"You know I love you."

I nodded and replied:

"I love you too. I will always love you."

And I will. Of course I knew it and she knew it anyway. But sometimes it's nice to say the words out loud.

            

"Die, damn you!"

Last week I was on a video call with Marie. She was talking about the latest news from the COVID-19 pandemic. In among other bits of information, she mentioned that the sharpest recent increases in the death rate were (apparently) all in counties that had voted for Donald Trump in the last couple of elections.

And she grinned a great big, wide, satisfied grin. Which -- for just a moment -- scared the shit out of me.

I pointed out to her that she was grinning. Her only remark was that she guessed she had better not mention this factoid to any of those family members who disagree with her politically, or at any rate not if she's on a video call with them. She wasn't horrified or alarmed. In fact she took the news quite calmly.

Why did she grin? One possibility is that she was glad at the thought of her opponents dropping dead. But there's actually another that I think more likely, based on the other things she was saying. The way she told the story -- I have taken no steps to confirm any of this -- the counties with the highest death rates were mostly those that had rejected the imposition of strict mask and vaccination mandates. And of course there's a high correlation between the counties that rejected strict mandates and the counties that voted for Mr. Trump. So I actually think Marie's glee was the glee of an intense, young grade-school student who just got the right answer when all the bigger kids got it wrong. I think her grin was supposed to say, "My friends and I did what the teacher told us to do, and we're all alive. But you didn't listen and insisted on doing your own thing, and now you're all dying. Now do you see that we were right all along?"

Hermione Granger morphs into Madame Defarge.

There is something terrifying about the Need To Be Right.

  

A week with Marie

I spent last week visiting Marie. Air travel is possible again, and I've been vaccinated against COVID-19, so I flew there on Monday (a week ago yesterday) and flew home on Saturday. A week.

Of that time, we had Tuesday and Wednesday completely to ourselves. She works in retail, and those days are her "weekend." Thursday and Friday she had to work; but I brought her lunch from nearby shops (instead of her having to pack a sandwich), ate with her in the employee break room, and then we had the evenings together when she was done. Her boss let her sign out early both days so we could have more of the evening together.

What did we do for entertainment? Let's see. Tuesday evening we visited some friends of hers for dinner. It was a pleasant evening, even if their son did start monopolizing the conversation towards the end with his views on world politics. Wednesday we drove out of town to see some of the natural scenery nearby, had a picnic, and then came back in time to catch a showing of "Here Today" -- only the second movie I have seen in a movie theater since the pandemic started early last year. And of course we fucked.

A couple of observations about the week.

We fucked mostly in the mornings. (By evening, I at least was generally too tired.) The first morning went very agreeably for Marie, and I got hard a couple of times. I was able to slide inside her for a while but -- in a way that is more and more common these days -- didn't come. The second morning was better. I started the morning asleep, dreaming that I was hard and trying to fuck Marie. About the time I succeeded, I woke up to find I was hard but had only been dreaming; so again I maneuvered around to enter her. And then I woke up again, to discover that even that had been a dream! Seriously frustrated, I decided that this time she wasn't going to dissolve in my arms. She wasn't really awake, but she started to wake up as I rolled myself on top of her; and she was very agreeable to my sliding inside. I was harder than usual, and more determined; and so in the end I was able to come, after which I lay there dazed for long enough that she finally got up, kissed me, and made coffee. That was the only time that I actually came during the week, but it was definitely worth it. Also I think it's a good sign that it's still possible.

Wednesday we did a little hiking. Ever since my work ended at the end of March I've been trying to get in some regular hiking at home, just in case Debbie is serious about tackling the West Highland Way at the end of the summer. (For practical reasons that now looks unlikely, but we might go backpacking for a day or two somewhere closer to home. Marie does not appear to have a problem with it.) The result is that my wind and general energy levels were better than they were when Marie visited me back in January. She commented at that time about the weight I had put on during the pandemic, and I'm still fatter than I used to be. But my improved wind looked (to me, at least) like a positive sign.

Marie reported no sleep apnea from me all week.

I also tried to watch how much I drank and how I felt about it. Monday night I drank nothing: my plane got in late, Marie picked me up from the airport, we went back to her place and went to bed. No big deal. Tuesday night we visited her friends, and they certainly served wine with dinner … also beer beforehand, come to that. Wednesday we had dinner out, in a rush before the movie; then after the movie we went home and to bed. No alcohol, and no interest in it. Thursday we ate dinner at home and at leisure, with wine. Friday we ate dinner at home and at leisure, and Marie wasn't interested in having any wine so I didn't either. But I was very aware that I wasn't having any. That level of awareness caught my attention, and not in a good way. 

But all in all it was a delightful visit. Now I'm back home and baffled by the job-hunting process. Marie has suggested that maybe I need to figure out what I really want, and maybe (in order to achieve that) it would help if I wrote something every day. This might end up like 2014, when I was trying to channel Ella Price for a while.

But not tonight.

    

Marie's end-of-year visit

Marie visited me for a week over the end of the year. She took a COVID-19 test (which came out negative) and then isolated for a week before leaving. Then she took the train to get here (with a private sleeping compartment) rather than flying, much as I took the train for my business travel last fall. For my part, the only times I left my apartment were to go grocery shopping, or when I visited with Mother, Brother, and SIL on Christmas. Marie and I talked on the phone at great length to analyze the comparative risks of her driving to the train station (thus leaving her car half a mile away, so that she would have to walk back to it alone late at night on her return) or taking a taxi (thus sharing a closed space with some unknown other person): in the end she decided on the taxi, but we talked through all the possibilities. So on the whole we think we covered the risks pretty well.

Once she was here, we really couldn't do a lot. We couldn't go much of anywhere because so many things were closed. The only restaurants that were open were for take-out only. One day we did make the trip to visit my mom, whom Marie really likes. But mostly we stayed indoors, cooked, watched movies, read to each other. And fucked. We did a lot of fucking.

My sexual response continues to deteriorate, and it didn't help things that both of us are overweight and no longer very flexible. I could still get hard, but mostly I lost it just as fast and much of the time it was awkward to get inside her. I think I actually came only two or three times all week. But then I have said before that, in sex, I always consider the woman to be the Main Event anyway; and it that sense it all went gloriously. Marie is joyfully, effortlessly multi-orgasmic, over and over again. When she seems exhausted I let her lie still for a few minutes to catch her breath; and then with the tiniest motions of my fingers I can get her started all over again. It's wonderful. Also she has learned to keep her vocalizations quieter, which is a big improvement from her last visit a year ago. So all in all it was a very pleasant trip.

Her trip home, however, was straight out of "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles."

I got her to the train station in plenty of time. She got on the train, which left on time. Then an hour later I got a call from her: another train had derailed halfway to her destination, so this train was going to go only partway and then turn around. Amtrak made no commitment to get her home, offering only to refund part of her ticket. So she got off at the next stop and took a bus back to my town. Also she asked me to buy her a plane ticket home for the next day.

Got her a last-minute plane ticket. Got her to the airport crushingly early the next morning. Drove home to log into work, because by now my vacation was over. Even though I'd be working from home, I had to be working. Then I heard from her that the plane had mechanical trouble. Later she corrected that to say that the onboard computer had burned out and they were going to replace it. Finally she texted me that everyone had to de-board the plane. She was rebooked onto a later flight going somewhere else, and then transferred to a third plane that would finally take her home. 

So it's a good thing she hadn't left her car downtown near the train station, isn't it?

She finally got home, after way too much activity. At that, she was earlier than if she had taken the train all the way, but still it was way too interesting a trip. Now I guess we wait two weeks to make sure neither of us comes down with COVID-19 after all. But it was a good visit.     

"Vice and indulgence"?

I keep reading people on Twitter who point out that the Roaring Twenties followed on the 1918 flu, because partying till you drop and wanton dissolution are the natural responses to the social isolation of a global pandemic. See for example a couple of recent articles linked here that warn of a "post-COVID sex fest" and "an era of vice and indulgence."

From the New York Post

From the Daily Mail

My worry is that I don't think I ever learned how to live a life of wanton dissolution. Is there somewhere I can take remedial classes, to be prepared when the time comes?

     

Christmas planning

So today we finalized the plans for Christmas. I mean, we had basically known them for at least a month, but we clarified all the details.

As with Thanksgiving, as with the Fourth of July, Brother and SIL and I will meet at my mother's house. We will take care to spend the whole time masked and socially distanced, while also enjoying each other's company and celebrating a very quiet version of Christmas.

Son 1, as you recall, has his own apartment. Son 2 still lives in the town where he went to University (in another state) — he graduated in May — but he drove back "home" for Christmas. He spent one week with me to make sure he wasn't infected, and then moved to Son 1's apartment, where he plans to spend the rest of Christmas Break. Son 1 and Son 2 were both invited to join the rest of us at my mom's house, but turned it down on the grounds of COVID-19. Best to stay away from other people, to reduce the overall risk of infection. And after all, my mom is 80 years old.

That's all logical. Then I discovered today that they will spend part of Christmas Day visiting Wife. Again, I can understand the decision:

• If there's any chance they might not see her on Christmas, she gets self-pitying and emotionally manipulative.
• By contrast my mother, Brother and SIL, and I try hard to be grown-ups about the whole thing. We treat Sons 1 and 2 as adults, and let them make their own decisions.
• It's not practical for them to visit both houses on Christmas, because Wife lives 90 minutes from Son 1 in one direction, and my mother lives 90 minutes from Son 1 in the exact opposite direction.

I get all this. It's all very logical.

But sometimes it can be a burden being so damned intelligent and mature all the time, you know? I was disappointed when I heard I wasn't going to see them over Christmas. Now I feel jealous: you'll spend time with her even though she's obviously a horrible person, but not with us? Whimper, whimper, whimper …. It's stupid. I know it's stupid. That doesn't stop me from feeling it.

It's also not their job to manage my feelings, is it? That's my job. I know that. It still hurts, though.

            

Distraction

 I remember back when I was in college, some time during the late Stone Age (the early 1980's), I got a job on-campus for the summer between my Junior and Senior years. This wasn't the first time I had been away from home outside of school, but it was the first time I actually lived on my own: rented my own apartment, got myself to work, bought my own groceries … you know, #adulting.

I didn't have a car (or a driver's license), so my apartment was within walking distance of my job on-campus. And whenever I had to go to the grocery store, that meant walking too. Among other things, this limited how much food I could buy at a time. (Now that I think about it, the city had a good bus system. Why didn't I ever use it?) I didn't have a lot of friends who stayed in town over the summer. There was R, and he and I got together once or twice for dinner. There was Marie, but she and I were sort of on the outs at the time: at one point I stopped by her place to discuss political philosophy (yes, it really was as lame as it sounds) and the afternoon was deeply unsatisfactory for both of us. Also this was in the days before mobile phones, or the Internet, or even personal computers. So when I wasn't at work I had a lot of time on my own. 

I read a lot. (That was the summer I read Bertrand Russell's A History of Western Philosophy.) 

I wrote a lot of letters home. ("Wrote" by hand. Printed, because my cursive is hard to read. Mailed in an envelope, with a stamp.)

I played a lot of Solitaire. (With, you know, a physical deck of cards that I shuffled and laid out with my hands.)

And I remember thinking, years later, that it was a good thing I was under-age for buying alcohol at the time. Because with that much time alone, if I had been able to buy booze and drink it, I might have had a problem by the end of the summer.

Why am I thinking of this now? Because recently I noticed a couple of things.

These days I have a lot of time on my own. (I live alone, and with COVID-19 I mostly work at home.)

I have a car, which means that my grocery shopping is not limited by what I can carry in my two arms.

It's been a very long time since anybody carded me for buying alcohol. (Do you suppose the grey over most of my beard has anything to do with it?)

My most recent personal computer has Solitaire installed on it … which my last one did not, and which my work computer does not. (The company takes a dim view of computer games. We should be working on company time, dammit! And I guess I can see their point....) 

And all of this means that I weigh more than I have in many years, I'm drinking as much as I have since starting this blog (except for when I've been at one of those riotous parties thrown by my neighbors, but there's been none of that under COVID-19), and I'm playing an awful lot of Solitaire.

Anything to distract myself. 

During the day, this seems like a bad trend. Late at night, after a few drinks, it doesn't worry me so much. Maybe that pattern isn't a consoling one.

There's a story told that Robert Benchley, late in his career, was asked by a young reporter to say something about his career and his life. His answer was, "When I first came to New York I had a full head of hair, I weighed 135 pounds, and I was a member of the Temperance Society." 

There is a moral here, but I'd rather not look for it too closely. 

        

Phoning with Debbie

 Somewhere along the line … maybe it was with the beginning of quarantine? … Debbie and I have settled into a regular phone call, much like the regular weekly call that I have had with Marie for some years now. With Debbie it started as every two weeks. Then somewhere along the line it shifted to every week. It started with FaceTime, and then shifted to Zoom. 

Even though we had already admitted that we still love each other, we made a point for months of doing the right thing. We might spend time staring into each other's eyes (over Zoom) if the conversation ran dry, but we were always careful to sign off with words like Good to talk to you, Be well, Till next time, or Sending you metta. Occasionally I stretched this, as I have done also with my emails, to saying Love and metta, but I'm careful to say it in a conversational way. 

And then when we talked last night … well, let me explain the background. For some months, Debbie has been having trouble at work as her hours and function have been cut back. She understands the logic behind each decision, but her feelings have been hurt. I've been working to comfort her, and of course I'm coming from a place of having had the same thing happen to me only a year or two ago: not my hours, in that case, but my status and my potential for a bonus if we had a good year. (Note that 2020 has not been such a year.) Anyway, more recently her mother has started to show signs of confusion, the early stages of dementia. So finally this month Debbie took leave from work completely to go stay with her mother and try to stabilize her, until the family (Debbie and her sister) can arrange for a full-time caretaker. And of course this is a huge job, and has been taking a lot out of Debbie. Some days her mother is calm and as sweet as pie; then she can turn on a dime and start bellowing rage and fear and confusion, accusing Debbie of crazy things and demanding to be allowed to do other crazy things.

So last night Debbie and I talked after her mother had gone to bed. The battle yesterday was over whether her mother could go to the hairdresser. 

Debbie explained that, because of COVID-19, she couldn't go. 

Her mother said, Well I don't care if I get sick and die, because I'm so old anyway. So if I'm willing to take the risk, then why not?

Debbie tried to explain that it's not fair to make the hairdresser take the risk. Also she, as a nurse, has seen patients suffering from COVID-19, and it is a nasty way to go. So anyway, no, Mom, you can't go. I won't let you.  

At that point her mother declared, If I can't go to the hairdresser then I'll just swallow all of my medications at once and kill myself!

This is what Debbie spent the day yesterday dealing with. So we spent much of our phone call talking about it. Fortunately Debbie is old enough, and has a solid-enough meditation practice, that she doesn't fly off the handle when her mother bursts out like that. But it's not easy, of course. Anyway, we talked.

And we talked about other things. There's a chance we might be able to see each other over the Christmas holiday, and go hiking. (God, I had better work on getting into better shape in the next … umm … two weeks!)

Finally, at the end of the call, Debbie ended with a simple, I love you.

Oh my God. We've gotten all the way back to I love you. I'm fine with it, but … wow. 

I love you too, Debbie. Now and ever.

    

Visiting Debbie en route

 As I drove from Faraway City to Sticksville, I stopped to visit Debbie. It was a long drive and she's only kind-of on the way ... but stopping at her place meant I had to drive only nine hours Friday instead of over ten. Then I had another three hours today, but still it was worth it.

It was different from my earlier visits in a couple of subtle-but-visible ways. 

I arrived in the evening, close to dinner time, more or less. Debbie let me in and asked about my drive, and of course I was exhausted. At the same time I had wound up a lot of energy keeping myself awake and alert the whole time. Tired but wired. So I started rattling off at high speed what a long drive it had been and how tired I was, and after a couple of minutes Debbie chuckled.

"Gosh, I feel like I should offer you a glass of wine, or a beer or something."

Wait, what? Is this Debbie? Back when we were dating (fucking) one of the few hard disagreements we stumbled over was about alcohol. I drank; Debbie didn't. It was never an actual problem between us, because we didn't live together and I was always perfectly willing not to drink when I was around her. But the one or two times we ventured to talk about it at a theoretical level, I quickly realized there was nothing to gain from pushing the question. Back when she was a little girl her parents both drank too much, and they fought violently when they were drunk, and so Debbie said she saw alcohol (in the words of the Buddha's five precepts) as a source of great suffering. When I have visited her in the last few years I've noticed that she might keep a bottle of wine or a couple of beers in the fridge, but I've always assumed that it's because her son-in-law drinks occasionally and so she keeps it for him. (The first time I visited, I saw a bottle of wine and asked about it, and she hurriedly said that it was a gift and she was looking for someone else to give it to. Ever since then I have made it a point not to ask.)

Anyway, I waved away the offer. No, of course not, don't worry about it. And went on with my story. (If you've been following this story in a linear way, I had better add that I've fallen away from the dry living I wrote about a month ago. So I turned it down for Debbie's sake and not my own.)

Then after dinner, as we were sitting down for dessert, she pulled out a bottle of Frangelico. She only poured us each a very little bit, but still -- it's the first time Debbie has every poured me a glass of alcohol.

We started to talk about liqueurs. There's a pecan liqueur called Rivulet that she really wants to find a bottle of, but she has had the damnedest time tracking it down. I mentioned that earlier this year I had made a batch of limoncello using this recipe I found out on the Internet. She asked, "Is that the recipe where you start with vodka and soak the lemon zest in vodka for several weeks?" I told her, "Yes, exactly." And she said she has made the exact same recipe. She agreed that it turns out very well. Wait, what? Debbie bought vodka to make homemade liqueur? This visit was shaping up to be different from earlier ones.

When I first arrived, as I was telling her all about the long drive to get there, she said, "You know, I thought about that today. I don't know why it didn't occur to me before, but I started thinking, If he were your boyfriend this would be really romantic. Look how far he's driving, just to spend time with you! Isn't that sweet? I'd be telling myself, He must really love you to do this!"

She said it like it was a joke, like I was supposed to laugh. So I did. But like a shot I added, "Of course, I do!" Then I dropped it. We've acknowledged that the love is still there, but I think she's probably more comfortable if we don't dwell on it. 

Maybe it's my imagination, but it seems like Debbie was more physically demonstrative than she has been during earlier visits, though she still kept it all within the bounds of propriety; that means we hugged and kissed more often but all the kisses were strictly closed-mouthed. I think this must have been at least partly because we've all had to draw back from physical affection during the age of COVID-19, and so we are all slightly starved for it. Debbie and I treated this visit like an exception because Debbie recently recovered from COVID-19, and so we figured she was neither susceptible (no vector pointing to her) nor contagious (no vector pointing to me). 

On the down side, we didn't work together in the kitchen as smoothly and effortlessly as we have in the past, which made me realize we have gotten out of practice. Nothing serious, but we had to pay more attention not to bump into each other, and I didn't always know right away what to do next. Little things. But it wasn't a big deal for Debbie. She still commented on enjoying how well we worked together.

And there were little domestic moments that worked very well. Saturday morning while she was still in the back of the house, I wanted a cup of coffee. I know where her cups are, I know where she keeps her coffee -- and so I just made it. When she came out she remarked how happy it made her that I felt so at home there. And it made me happy too: honestly, that cup of coffee meant way more to me than just waking up in the morning, exactly because I knew where everything was and I knew it was fine for me to go ahead and make it. It was a little bit like being at home.   

I've told you so much about how the visit felt, but what did we actually do?

We meditated together each morning. Saturday we packed a lunch and then went for a long hike around a nearby lake. I was fine on the level parts, but there were a couple of sharp inclines that really winded me; and at one point I actually had to stop to catch my breath. It's really clear to me that my level of physical activity has dropped way down since COVID-19 hit. Meanwhile Debbie has started talking about hiking the West Highland Way in Scotland next summer. She wants me to come along, and in principle I'd love to. But I'm going to have to get in much better shape if I want any prayer of making it to the end. How about if I start exercising tomorrow? (I have mentioned this proposal to Marie, who has so far said nothing much about it. As a memo, I had better make sure it's not a problem for her.)

In the late afternoon / early evening, after we got back from our hike, we harvested everything that was left in her garden from the summer. The weather prediction was for snow that night, so we figured it was best to bring it all in. And honestly there was quite a lot. Some of it made its way into dinner that night, but she had plenty left over for later.

As we were harvesting vegetables, Son2 called to ask me a question about his job-hunting. So far he has had no luck finding a job (possibly this isn't the best economy to look in right now), so what would I think if he joined the Peace Corps? He and I discussed it a little bit, and then after he hung up I discussed it some more with Debbie. She thought it sounded like a great idea. I wondered if it would be an obstacle to his finding employment later (if he looked too much like a starry-eyed idealist) but her point was that any job interview is about whether you can tell a compelling story. And she thinks Son2 could tell a compelling story about the Peace Corps, if he were to join it. So maybe ...?

Sunday morning we meditated together again, and then I made ready to continue my drive on towards Sticksville. But we also talked a little bit about the visit. I told her how much I always enjoy my visits there, that they always give me a chance to slow down, shift gears, and recharge. She said yes, in fact she knows her house can function like a retreat center, some kind of little monastic island. I hadn't thought of it in those terms before, but it is a good comparison. 

And so the visit wound to a close. I packed my car. We hugged and kissed a last time. And I drove away. Back to my Grand Tour. But spending the weekend there, outside of Work and the World, was priceless. It always is.

    

Stalled

 I’m sitting on a train, in a sleeper car, absolutely motionless in the middle of empty land. I see a freeway over there in the middle distance. At this hour of the morning, most of the traffic on it are large trucks. Other than that, it’s pretty much a straight shot to the horizon, over which the sun is about to come up. I don’t know why the train has stopped but it is very restful. It’s pleasant just to sit and look out the window. But somehow I feel like I ought to be working, or doing something otherwise productive: writing a poem, say, or a trenchant philosophical essay for the Patio. I’ve decided to compromise on this instead. 

I can’t see the sun yet, but I can now see sunlight reflecting off the trucks on the freeway over there. It won’t be long now. 

Why am I on a train in the middle of nowhere? The idea is that I’m traveling for work. I have things to do at one of our offices in the metropolitan area of Faraway City, and then at our office in Sticksville, and then at one other office I don’t remember giving a name to. And of course I live on the other side of the continent. Before COVID-19, I would have flown — possibly even making three trips of it. (Though three trips in three consecutive weeks would have been a little crazy.) But my boss wasn’t too pleased at authorizing my travel when there was the risk that I might get sick on the plane, or going through security. So I suggested that I take the train and hire a sleeper compartment. This would give me more isolation, which should help. To be sure, I’m only taking the train till I hit a rough midpoint among my destinations: then I rent a car and drive back and forth among them. In some ways it’s still a little crazy. 

But I should get a good picture of how many miles I’ve been flying over all these other trips. And I’ll have a couple days over one weekend to visit Debbie. That will be nice.

Boyfriend 7 is dying

 I honestly thought I'd never have anything more to post about any of Wife's boyfriends, except maybe the occasional retrospective or "blast from the past" when I wrote about something that happened long ago. But I guess I was wrong.

A little after 10 o'clock this morning I got a text from Wife.

Wife: Not that you care, but Bruce* is on hospice.

Hosea: Bruce who?

Wife: Bruce Jenner.* The Bruce who's been part of my life for a number of years now. No matter.

* In other words, Boyfriend 7. Obviously this guy's name isn't really "Bruce Jenner"! Like everyone else in this blog except public figures or authors, I have given him a fake name.

Hosea: OK. I remember the Jenners.** But after all I haven't been part of your life for several years now so my news is a little out of date. For that reason I have to ask you to cut me a little slack on that front. Anyway I'm glad you were able to find someone. Hospice is tough. Hope you can still visit despite COVID.

**Wife met them back when she was attending the local Baptist church, a church she dragged me and the boys to join her at for a few years. Bruce's wife Sue Jenner ran a women's small group for Bible study that Wife was part of for years, and she shows up briefly in this story here under the header "Sunday morning at church" and named "Mrs. B." Sorry, end of digression.

Wife: He's at home right now, so yes. It's a matter of paying for transportation. 

But COVID? What's the worst that could happen? He could get sick and die? A little black humor …. 

Actually, I could. He has enough health care providers that I will be very careful. I'm used to a virtual quarantine.

Hosea: At home? Is he still with Sue? Isn't that … awkward?

Wife: Sue and also Steve, his 30-something son who has lived there the last five years. Awkward? Bruce is my best friend and confidant and vice versa. Would we still be more if prostate cancer hadn't interfered years ago? Maybe. But as it is, we're just the best of friends. Sue and I were friends back at church and if she suspects anything she's never let on, so no. I just blend into the family. Steve is the only one I'm still awkward around. I wish it weren't so. But I would never, ever do anything to come between Bruce and Sue, and I've paid the price for being the "other woman," which BTW is steep. Yet it has been worth it, so what can I say? 

I always knew I'd get hurt, either by break-up or death because he's a decade my senior. I just didn't expect him to die at 67. 

In our world, that is young. 

It was amyloidosis -- in reaction to an extended infection gotten at the hospital with a knee replacement. So his knee replacement killed him.

__________

And that's the news.

I don't know what I want to say about it. Of course while we were living under the same roof I was really frustrated and really upset by the way Wife carried on with all her amours -- at least until I got so disgusted with her that I just stopped caring. But everyone needs to know that someone cares about them, somewhere in the world. Once we were done and I was safely out of the house, it did occur to me from time to time that she probably needed someone in her life as an emotional anchor, whether that person were a sexual lover in addition or not. 

I'm pretty sure that I've talked about this from time to time over the years. Here's one post that I was able to think of and find. (Check Note 8.) There might be others. I realize that the labels I use to categorize posts are never actually useful when I want to track down something specific.

As for the sexual side, … well she says prostate cancer ended that, though I have already expressed myself on why that's a foolish excuse. But maybe I'm wrong. Even before I moved out of the house I remember Wife saying at one point that she could no longer come. I don't know if that was something temporary, or if it was permanent. If it were permanent then I guess she might still enjoy the closeness of sex and being able to host a lover inside her, but any ability he might have with tongue and fingers would be irrelevant.

Whatever. I don't know, don't need to know, and don't even really want to know.

I am glad she found someone for emotional support. God knows, during the thirty years I knew her she needed a lot of emotional support and I assume she still does. It's too bad he's dying now.

           

COVID-19 diaries, part 4

 After her Zoom call (which I describe here) Debbie sent an email to all the friends and family who had been checking in on her, as follows:

I can share the good news that I am feeling much better, day by day.  I still get very tired at times, and it fluctuates throughout the day, so I continue to rest a lot, alternating with a little activity. 

Yesterday I put on my N95 mask and walked around the block in my neighborhood. That was wonderful and I hope to do it again tomorrow.  Today I got to talk with a few of you by zoom. 

My thoughts are beginning to turn to the question of when will it be safe for me to be with my daughter and her family in person again and when will it be safe to go do my own grocery shopping again.  I know the CDC says 10 days after positive test date if symptoms are improving, but my inclination is to play it safe and wait a bit longer, maybe even 3 weeks. 

It has been absolutely wonderful to hear from each of you, to reconnect, to catch up on what is happening in your lives and to hear about your families.  My heart is full!  I hope to meet with you by zoom soon.  The silver lining of being sick has been reconnecting.   I love you all so very much!

I will send out a few more updates, but probably not every day, unless things change for the worse, which hopefully will not happen.

That was on a Thursday. There were only a couple more notes from her related to her illness. 

Tuesday: [After I sent her a text message to check in.] Thanks, Hosea. I'm doing much better – would say I'm 95% recovered. I'm back to working at home and have had a big project given to me, so I'm busy today. It's good to be working!

Wednesday:  

One more and probably last update... I am feeling well, like myself again! There is still a bit of lingering cough, but my energy levels and mental clarity are back to normal. It's wonderful to be feeling good again! 

 This week I am back to work (at home) and have been asked to work on a new project for work that is giving me quite a few hours.... 

 I went for a 12 mile bicycle ride this afternoon and so enjoyed being out in the open air! With September 1st, autumn is arriving right on schedule. It's still warm during the day, but night time temperatures are in the low 50's and some trees are starting to turn color and drop their leaves. 

 Thank you, each and every one, for the wonderful support you gave me while I was sick. It meant so much to me. I especially enjoyed reconnecting with you and hearing about your families. 

 Hugs and love to you all! May you be safe and well.

I call that a happy ending. And I'm grateful.

COVID-19 diaries, part 3

Days march on as Debbie lives with COVID-19 ….

Monday: "I'm feeling so very tired today. Otherwise much the same."

Tuesday: "Things are moving along here and the days are very quiet.  My breathing seems to be quite a bit better, so gratitude for that!  My main symptom now is extreme fatigue and lack of energy.  I don't even have the oomph to do much in the way of knitting, reading, or answering emails. Hence no daily update yesterday.  So I am hanging out, resting a lot, napping in the afternoon every day. Giving myself permission to do nothing."

Wednesday: [This day when I checked in with her all she said was, …] "Thank you, Hosea. How are things going for you?"

Thursday: Today Debbie hosted a Zoom call with her mom, her sister (and her sister's family), and another friend from the sangha she started here years ago. She looked a lot better, and she said she had more energy -- maybe not vast energy, but enough that she could start to think about when it would be safe to see her daughter again, and her daughter's family. We all chatted for fifteen minutes and she smiled, and then we hung up. I feel better, knowing that she has started to feel better. Hope it continues.

     

COVID-19 diaries, part 2

More from Debbie.

Friday: "Today has been pretty uneventful.  It is the first day that I have felt like I could stay in bed all day, I'm so tired.  I didn't do that, because my breathing seems easier when I am up and about and breathing more deeply.  But I did take a long nap midday.  Still no fever, very little cough, oxygen saturation okay, so I think I'm doing reasonably well."

Saturday: No update.

Sunday: "It was a quiet day.  My breathing seems better; my fatigue a bit worse.  I sat in on two church services by zoom this morning and I slept most of the afternoon. I am sharing dinner time each day with family by zoom.  That has become a grounding ritual and it is wonderful to stay connected in that way."
      

COVID-19 diaries

I wrote you all that Debbie has been diagnosed positive with COVID-19. Here is what she has said about her symptoms so far.

Monday: She got the test Monday morning because of some upcoming travel. Monday "afternoon I developed a tickle in my throat and felt a bit 'off.'  No other symptoms - no fever, no cough, etc."

Tuesday: "I'm feeling pretty tired and mildly achy - my feet feel like they are 'buzzing' which is a bit weird.  But other than that, still no fever, etc."

Wednesday: "Today, I am feeling very tired, somewhat achy and warm, and occasionally I have a dry cough.  But no fever and my oxygen saturation is normal."

Thursday: "I am still doing okay and only experiencing mild symptoms.  I felt sicker today than previous days, more tired and lethargic, with an achy head and an occasional dry cough.  My chest felt heavy and it felt like I had to work harder to breathe today, but my oxygen sats were okay - between 95 and 97, and still no fever.  I'm feeling better tonight than I did most of the day, so that's encouraging."

I haven't gotten an installment for today yet. I'll post follow-ups as I can.