2020, Be Gone!

As this terrible year finally approaches its end, all I can say is 'Be Gone!'

Has a year -- any year -- ever been this horrible for so many people? Not in recent history. I would guess that the closest any year has come to bringing so much death and suffering was 1918, when the flu pandemic ran rampant. Estimates are that some 50 million people around the world died of the flu, with some 675,000 American lives lost. Coronavirus, by contrast, has so far killed more than 1.78 million people, 338,000 in the US. And these horrible figures are despite great improvements in health care since 1918. The holiday surge in travel is expected to dramatically increase the number of infections and deaths in the US. And a new, more contagious variant of the virus has appeared in several countries, including the US.

Millions have lost their jobs or had their hours cut dramatically. More than 100,000 businesses have closed for good. Children and teachers had to learn about remote learning via computer. Incidents of domestic violence and suicide increased, as did sales of alcohol. Millions are facing loss of homes and apartments.

On a personal front, this year saw the death of my dog from cancer, following the loss of her sister a year ago. That's two deaths in just more than a year. My cousin, her husband and their two high school age children came down with coronavirus. My close friend lost her 15-year-old dog to cancer. An online friend lost her 5-year-old dog to cancer. Another friend just lost her 14-1/2-year-old dog. A neighbor lost her nearly 13-year-old dog to cancer. I have been unable to travel due to the pandemic. 

People are waiting in line for eight or nine hours for a box of food. Non-profit organizations are struggling to survive as donations and volunteer help dwindle. I developed kidney stones and went through three treatments to get rid of them. And now I have new ones.

The Republican party continues its ridiculous attempts to overturn the will of the people and install an autocrat as King Donald I. That won't work, of course, but it shows how desperate and depraved the party has become as it struggles feverishly to turn American into an oligarchy, where power and money are held only by a small group of old, white men. 

The cult followers of the would-be autocrat must be dealt with as they try to destroy the country and attempt to return America to a nation where only white men have power. Minorities and women must, in their view, be put in their places. As the new administration will be inaugurated -- an administration with a -- gasp!! -- woman of color as vice president, and a cabinet that represents the diversity of America -- these throwbacks to the 18th century are beside themselves. They are desperate to hold onto their 'white men only' version of America. They are losing power, and they are terrified, which makes them desperate as their 'dear leader' encourages their violent, hate-filled resistance to the rule of law.

So yes, let us put this horrible  year behind us. Let us start the process of healing our country, a country that has come close to being destroyed by a psychotic autocrat who has no interest in governing, but who wants only the power and attention he so desperately craves. Let us say goodbye not only to the year 2020, but also to the the horror of the past 4 years.

 

A Time to Look Forward

What single word do you use as you look forward to 2021?

I can think of several words that describe my feelings about the coming year.:

• hope 
• renewal
  
• relief 
• recovery 
• recuperation
  
• progress
• restoration
• reclamation
• healing
  
• rehabilitation
• normality
• reclamation
• mending
• revival
• repair
• rebuilding  
  

There will be disappointments, setbacks and failures, to be sure. The radical right will continue to throw obstacles in the way of the Biden administration, and it will continue to do everything it can to set the administration up for failure. 

But this is the first time in 4 years I feel hopeful about the year ahead. We have a new administration with a more compassionate, inclusive, sane and reasoned approach. New vaccines should help bring the pandemic to a close.

So I think a reasonable amount of hope is definitely called for.

 

The Worst Year

This year sucks.

Sorry about the crude expression, but it does. There is no other way to describe the year 2020. It has brought death on a massive scale. It has brought increased rates of suicide and domestic violence. It has brought massive business failures and job losses. It has brought stress, fear and anxiety. It has brought hours-long lines of people waiting for food from food banks. It has brought hoarding of groceries and toilet paper. It has brought out the best and the worst in people.

Has a year -- any year -- ever been this horrible for so many people? Not in recent history. I would guess that the closest any year has come to bringing so much death and suffering was 1918, when the flu pandemic ran rampant. Estimates are that some 50 million people around the world died of the flu, with some 675,000 American lives lost. Coronavirus, by contrast, has so far killed more than 1.78 million people, 333,000 in the US. And this pandemic continues to spread and the virus mutates into an even more contagious variety.

Millions have lost their jobs or had their hours cut dramatically. More than 100,000 businesses have closed for good. Children and teachers had to learn about remote learning via computer. Incidents of domestic violence and suicide increased, as did sales of alcohol. Millions are facing loss of homes and apartments.

I know four people whose dogs have died of cancer, two that died of other causes, and one person whose cat died, all in 2020. My dog died of cancer. My sister's dog is battling cancer. 

We lost the incredible jurist Ruth Bader Ginsburg to cancer. An online friend's mother recently died and her father is very ill. A former coworker lost both parents to the virus in a couple of weeks. He and his wife both had the virus. My cousin, her husband and their two teenage sons had the virus, with my cousin still struggling to recover.

On a personal level, this year saw the death of my old dog, following the loss of her sister a year ago. That's two deaths in just more than a year. I have been unable to travel due to the pandemic. I developed kidney stones and went through three treatments to get rid of them. And now I have new ones.

People are waiting in line for eight or nine hours for a box of food. Non-profit organizations are struggling to survive as donations and volunteer help dwindle.

I have been unable to pursue my passions -- travel and photography -- that keep me sa, ne, motivated and challenged. 

I watch as the outgoing president* does everything he can think of to overturn the election and sow mistrust about the democratic process. He continues to ignore the death toll of the pandemic, offering not one word of sympathy to those who have suffered from this horrible virus or who have lost loved ones to it. He continues to hold massive rallies and large holiday parties that spread the virus. He surrounds himself with lunatics from the fringe who encourage him to declare martial law to enable him to stay in office despite his overwhelming loss at the polls in November. He finally signed a bill that offers some small measure of relief to struggling Americans, after waiting until hours before the deadline as his sick mind works to do everything possible to keep himself in the spotlight.

I, along with millions of others, are counting the days until this nightmare ends. But even after he leaves office, the damage he has done to this country, and the damage he undoubtedly will continue to do, remains a real threat. 

As this terrible year finally approaches its end, all I can say is 'Be Gone!'

 

 

 

Always Believe, Always Hope

I started writing early on Christmas morning.

I listened to Christmas music as I ate breakfast. And that was the only thing I did to 'celebrate' this day. The Christmas spirit skipped my house this year. 

I haven't been into Christmas for several years, but this year has been especially difficult. Isolation and the inability to travel have taken a toll on me. And losing my dog to cancer earlier this month has left a residual sadness that surfaces at random times.

But I have to believe that things will improve in the new year. After all, what is a life without hope? What kind of life would it be if I had no hope? I do believe that life under a new administration will improve, although it will be a slow and difficult process. I hope that people who have been kinder to themselves and others during the pandemic will continue to do so, and that those who have been overcome by selfishness, greed, nastiness and hate will start to change their attitudes. 

We must believe that we -- the ordinary, everyday people -- working with public health officials and vaccine producers, can and will conquer this pandemic. We must believe that we can return our nation to what it was 4 years ago and make it even better. We must believe that we can -- indeed, we must -- tackle the problems of social and racial injustice. We must address economic inequality in this country, insuring that everyone -- including billionaires, multimillionaires and huge corporations -- pay their fair share of taxes. I'm not suggesting that we punish the super rich and hand out money to the less fortunate, but the current system of taxation cannot be sustained. We must believe, and make it so, that we can transform our corrupt, elitist, out-of-touch political system to better represent everyday people.

We must believe, and insist, that everyone should have access to affordable health care. If other developed countries can provide health care and a college education at little to no cost, we must believe that America -- the one of the wealthiest countries on the planet -- can do so as well.

We must hope that America will at last take action to address the climate crisis. It won't be easy, and it won't be cheap. But it must be done if we are to continue to inhabit this earth. And as the saying goes, 'there is no planet B.'

It isn't easy in the face of a pandemic, high unemployment and business failures, and after suffering through 4 years of blatant corruption, ineptitude, nepotism, greed and graft. But as difficult and overwhelming and hopeless as things may seem, we must not stop believing in the possibility of a better America.

 

 

Unexpected Kindnesses

By any measure, 2020 has been a really rotten, sad and difficult year for just about everybody. Everybody, that is, except for the billionaires whose net worth has increased by several billion dollars.

Despite the horrible death toll and the large number of people who survived the virus with possibly lifelong problems, my personal life has had a couple of bright spots recently. And this year, I need all the bright spots I can get.

An online friend, who also is an animal lover, made a donation in my dog Layla‘s memory to the Morris Animal Foundation, which does life-saving research into a variety of diseases and conditions that afflict our companion animals.

After my dog died, I had a package of doggy diapers that I no longer needed. So I posted them to give away for free on a local bulletin board. When the woman came to pick them up, she brought me a hand crocheted comfort and prayer shawl. Unfortunately, the two from which I could choose were a bit small. So a few days later she brought a larger one and left it at my front door. I certainly wasn’t expecting, nor was I asking, for anything from her. I was just happy to find someone who could use the doggy diapers. But I really appreciated the thoughtfulness of the gift.

I recently was sent to the emergency room. As I wasn’t sure whether I would be admitted to the hospital or not, I dropped my remaining dog off at the boarding kennel where he stays when I’m out of town. I picked him up the next morning, and was pleasantly surprised that there was no charge for his stay.

Yesterday I received a box of my favorite candy (pecan Turtles) from my sister, and a box of several kinds of goodies from a friend in North Carolina. I will have to enjoy all these treats slowly, as I am trying to lose weight. But the thoughtfulness packed in each package was a sweet treat indeed. 

These small and unexpected acts of kindness mean so much more this year among all the suffering and negativity. So thank you to everyone who has reached out with kindness.

My Christmas Wish List

I remember when I was a kid, putting together a list of what I wanted for Christmas each year.

Two of the things I really wanted one year were a record player and a 45 rpm record of one of my favorite songs. It has been many decades since I was a child, and I don't make wish lists any longer. Material things long ago lost their allure. But this year, I do have a list of wishes. Among them are:

• to adopt a golden retriever from a rescue organization or humane society as a companion for my dog, who now finds himself an only dog following the death of another family dog this month
• an end to the pandemic
• vaccinations for everyone who wants one to protect against the coronavirus
• a new, compassionate administration (that one is coming in 30 days)
• economic recovery so people can return to work and businesses fully reopen
  
• an end to recurring kidney stones
• being able to travel again
• the restoration of hope among the populace
  
• never hearing or seeing the orange blob ever again

 

That's it. I have started the search for the golden retriever. I'm making changes to my diet to decrease the chances of developing new kidney stones. I have no control over the other things. I hope that with a new administration that actually cares about the American people and that will lead by example, things will start to get better. Having a country led by actual leaders who work for the benefit of the country rather than their own interests will start to turn this country around.

That would be the best gift of all.

In Search of Christmas

 I have tried.

I have tried to get somewhat in the Christmas spirit this year. But it isn't going to happen. I am currently listening to Christmas music sung by the angelic voice of Irish singer Enya. I listen to Christmas music in my bedroom and in my office. Nothing. There is no holiday spirit this year. No baking. No buying gifts for others. No cards. Nothing. 

Truth be told, I haven't done much for Christmas for several years, since my daughter started living on her own. In years past, even when living alone, I would put up a tree, put a wreath on the front door, set out Christmas decorations, and bake a variety of cookies. Now none of that seems worth the effort. I am trying to loose weight, so making cookies or fudge doesn't make sense. I am continuing to donate to several of my favorite charities, especially those that provide food to those in need. But that is something I do throughout the year.

This has been a tough year. I know half a dozen people, four of them my relatives, who have had Covid-19, and one of them lost both parents to the disease. All others have survived, fortunately, but the long-term effects remain to be seen. My dog died this month of cancer, suddenly and unexpectedly. Her sister died 15 months previously, suddenly and unexpectedly. I have been unable to travel, something I typically do several times every year. And I now am dealing with more kidney stones, despite having three laser treatments that supposedly got rid of them a couple of months ago. Chronic discomfort (it could be so much worse) doesn't put me in a holiday mood.

I am watching the current administration continue to bungle management of the pandemic, this time delaying the shipments of critical doses of the vaccine that offers hope to bringing this pandemic to an end. Meanwhile, a couple thousand people die of the virus each die, hospitals and healthcare workers are on the verge of collapse, and rich people such as Rupert Murdoch get the vaccine while frontline workers can't.

So it has not been a good year. I am cognizant of the fact that I am very fortunate in many ways. I am retired, so there is no job to lose. My house and car are paid for, so there is no concern about losing either of those things. I have plenty of food available. I have health insurance and I am in pretty good health overall. Things could be so much worse.

Let us hope that 2021 will bring us some relief from the virus, from the hatred and division that so plague our country, and that the Christmas spirit will again find its way into my heart and home.

A Christmas Memory

I am doing absolutely nothing for Christmas this year.

I’m not decorating the house, I’m not doing any special baking, and I’m not even putting a wreath on my front door. I stopped mailing Christmas cards several years ago. All I have done is listen to some of my Christmas CDs.

But as I was walking outside today, something brought to mind things that my now ex-husband and I used to do at Christmas time many years ago in northern California. I worked for a federal agency that was located on a naval air station. The gates were guarded by sailors, usually very young sailors. So every Christmas Eve, we would put together two plates of goodies and deliver them to the gate guards. Each plate would include such things as cookies, both homemade and store-bought, homemade fudge, and fruit cake.

The guards were always so shocked and surprised to be handed two plates of goodies on Christmas Eve. I would guess that many of these young people were experiencing their first Christmas away from home.

Of course, such a random act of kindness aren’t possible anymore. I’m sure there is a prohibition against accepting homemade goodies due to the threat of poisoning or other nefarious acts by hate-filled or otherwise sick people.

We carried out this tradition for several years, complete with our dogs in the backseat of the car. It was a quick but rewarding action on Christmas Eve.

I miss the simplicity and freedom to do these things that we had back in the 1980s and 1990s. Today’s memory brought back warm feelings in a very dismal and difficult year.

A Meaningful Life

“To make life a little better for people less fortunate than you, that’s what I think a meaningful life is. One lives not just for oneself, but for one’s community.” 

I love this quote by the late Supreme Court justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg aka RBG.

What a wonderful philosophy of life!  RBG devoted her life to helping the greater community by fighting for equal rights for women, for members of the LGBTQ, disabled and immigrant communities. Having faced discrimination when she was beginning her legal career, she made it her mission to help secure equality for women. Because of her, women no longer need a male to cosign applications for credit cards, loans or mortgages. Because of her, women can approve, or not, medical treatments, without a male. She fought for equal pay for both women and men. 

RBG was a trailblazer her entire life. She was the second woman and the first Jewish woman to serve on the Supreme Court. She was the first tenured female professor at Columbia Law School. She was only the second woman to serve as a law professor at Rutgers University. And even in death, she was the first woman and second Jewish person to lie in state.

What a meaningful life she led. We all would do well to emulate her philosophy of life. If we live a meaningful life, we are likely to feel at peace with ourselves, with those around us, and with the world at large. It doesn't mean we don't have disappointments, struggles and challenges. It doesn't mean that we stop trying to make things better. 

RBG flourished in the face of adversity, both personal and cultural. She used her considerable talents -- her intellect, her determination, her understanding of the law, her tenacity, her ability to articulate her beliefs, her incredible work ethic -- to literally change American society for the better. 

This tiny woman, who was only 5'1" tall, had a huge impact on American jurisprudence.  She was respected and admired by millions, and feared by those against whom she did battle in the courts.

We miss you, RBG.

 

Give A Little. Help A Lot.

As we prepare for the winter holidays, as unusual as they will be this year, please take a moment to reflect on the many things you have that many Americans do not: a warm place to live, clothing, food in the pantry, a vehicle to take you where you need to go. Then, if you are so moved and if you can spare a few dollars, please send a donation to a charity that helps the hungry, the homeless, those who need warm winter clothes.

The need is so much greater than usual this year due to the pandemic. People are lining up in their cars for hours to get a box of food. Food banks are struggling to meet the demand as millions of people suddenly jobless are in need of assistance. Anything you can provide -- a couple cans of soup, a box of cereal, a jar of peanut butter or whatever you can donate to your local food bank or food pantry -- can mean so much to those in need. Some churches, temples and other religious institutions offer hot meals to the homeless. One in three children and one in five adults in my state are at risk of hunger. I buy extra food when I spot a good sale on non-perishable items, and save it until the next food drive. There is always a need.

And times are really tough for homebound senior citizens, who may be unable to go shopping, be unable to afford the food they need, or be afraid to venture out during the pandemic. For this reason, I started donating to Meals on Wheels this year. I have made two donations so far, and plan to make at least one more before the end of the year. In addition to nutritious food, volunteers also provide companionship and a welfare check.

As challenging as this year has been for everyone, let us remember how fortunate we are. I have plenty to eat, a warm house, a good car and warm winter clothes. I can afford to keep the lights and the heat on. The least I can do is to share my blessings with those not as fortunate.

Won't you join me?

Be Someone Who Cares

 I am tapped out.

I am out of sympathy for the millions of willfully ignorant people who deny this pandemic. For those who still refuse to wear a mask and to avoid large crowds. For those who ignored the pleas of public health officials and infectious disease experts who urged them not to travel for Thanksgiving. Now we are seeing the results of their ignorance and selfishness. 

I no longer care about these willfully ignorant people. I do care about all the innocent people they have infected. And I care about the healthcare workers who have died because of willfully ignorant people. I care about the healthcare workers who are being pushed to the brink while trying to save people who didn't care enough to try to save themselves. I care about the physicians who soon will be forced to decide which patients receive a hospital bed and treatment, and which do not when the hospitals are filled to capacity.

I am saddened by the deaths of the thousands of people who did the right things but got infected anyway. I am sorry for the spouses, the siblings, the children, the parents, the grandparents and the friends of those who did the right things but died anyway because some can't be troubled to wear a mask or to stay away from bars. 

I have relatives who have been sick with Covid-19. One of them, who is diabetic, was hospitalized. She is home now, but still quite sick. Her husband and teenage sons are recovering. 

I get it. Wearing a mask isn't comfortable. It makes my glasses steam up. Some masks hurt my ears. It isn't 'normal' for those of us not in the healthcare professions to wear masks. But you know what? Nothing about life during this pandemic is 'normal.' Knowing that close to 300,000 of my fellow Americans have died during the past 10 months is not 'normal.' Wearing a mask helps protect me from getting sick, whether it's from the coronavirus or the flu. Wearing a mask also helps protect others from any communicable disease I might have, such as asymptomatic coronavirus, the flu or a cold. 

Most of us are not being asked to wear a mask all the time. Wearing a mask for 20 or 30 minutes every week or two when I go grocery shopping isn't a hardship. It doesn't make me look fearful or weak. Being asked to wear a mask doesn't violate my rights and it isn't unconstitutional. It does make me look like someone who doesn't want to get sick or possibly infect others. It makes me look like someone who cares.

Not wearing a mask makes people appear selfish or ignorant or both. Being selfish and ignorant, and putting those qualities on public display, is nothing of which to be proud. 

Please, make the small sacrifices needed to get this pandemic under control. Yes, vaccines are on the way, but it will take several months to vaccinate enough people to make a difference. 

Please, be someone who cares.

In Search of 'The Perfect Gift'

The holidays are upon us.

Christmas. Hanukah. Kwanzaa. And several others. Television is filled with non-stop ads for "the perfect gift." My mailboxes (both physical and e-mail) are overrun with appeals from a variety of charities -- some of which I have never donated to -- for funds. Some appeals come in multiples.

My almost-14-year-old dog died a week ago after being diagnosed with lymphoma and losing the ability to use her legs.

As we all know, this year has been one for the record books, and not for anything good that happened. More than 285,000 Americans have died of Covid-19, and the experts are predicting a huge surge by the end of the year. Thousands more have survived with potentially permanent damage to their lungs, hearts and brains. My cousin and her entire family are recovering from the virus, but she remains quite ill.

I am not able to travel, something I love to do. And last week, my area got some 4 inches of snow. Much of it has melted. I don't like winter, and I especially don't like snow. In October, we got more than 7 inches of snow. And in a normal year, we get little snow, if any.

So I tried to think of something -- anything -- positive to both lift my spirits and to improve the world in which I live. All I can come up with is to donate money to the charities that mean the most to me. I don't need, or want, anything as a gift. I have all I need, and more.

So I made an online donation to the Sheldrick Wildlife Trust, which rescues, treats and cares for orphan elephants in Kenya. I donated again to Meals on Wheels to provide nutritious meals to homebound senior citizens in my area. I donated again to Road Runner Food Bank, which has been hit very hard due to the huge increase in people needing food assistance. I will donate to the hospice in northern Illinois that cared for my father at the end of his life. I donated to the Memphis Area Golden Retriever Rescue from which I adopted one of my golden retrievers. I donated to the Elephant Crisis Fund in Kenya with the proceeds from sales of my photo calendars. And chances are good that a couple of additional charities will get a year-end donation as well. I also have signed up to donate blood later this week.

My dog's treatment and assessment cost thousands of dollars. Property taxes are due this week. Car and property insurance are due this week. And the final payment on a hoped-for trip to Tanzania next year is due -- this week. 

But I can't take the money with me when I die, so why not spend some of it now to make this sad, sorry world a better place? Why not use my blessings to help provide food for hungry people ... to help provide compassionate care for the dying ... to help African elephants whose populations are being decimated by greedy humans?

To me, sharing my blessings and donating to causes I support -- those things are 'the perfect gift.'

 

After the Loss

I had to have my dog euthanized yesterday.

I, of course, shed tears yesterday as the veterinarian gave me the bad news about Layla's worsening condition, as I contemplated the decision I had to make, and when my dog was euthanized. I shed tears this morning when I saw a photo of a couple of girls in Kenya paying their respects to a favorite wildebeest, by kneeling next to him and putting flowers on his body.

So the grief is there. It's below the surface. And it is pervasive. I know I made the only decision I could make. My dog was dying of lymphoma. I believe she would not have survived more than another day or so. 

So today as I went about my business in pandemic-induced isolation, I didn't shed many tears. But what I do feel is a deep sadness. I continue to do what I have always done, and that is to look for her as I walk through my house. 

Yesterday, I folded her blanket and placed it on her bed in my bedroom. When I went back into my room a few hours later, the blanket was no longer on her bed. It was still mostly folded, but it was on the floor, not on her bed. I like to believe that this was her way of letting me know that she had arrived on the other side and that she is OK. And she is still with me, albeit in another form.

It isn't often that I get a sign from a deceased dog, but it has happened twice previously. In the first case, I could hear the jingle of my dog's tags once or twice after she departed. I caught a glimpse of her peeking around the corner, as she often did. And a few months after Layla's sister Bailey died, I felt the 'bop' of a dog nose on my finger. I was on the phone with a good friend when it happened, and I immediately mentioned it to her. One of my dogs was in the back yard, sleeping in the sun. Layla was in the living room. So I have no explanation other than that Bailey paid me a visit.

I'm not sure how I feel about ghosts and spirits, but I know that I felt the 'bop' on my finger. I know I heard the tags jingling. And I know where I had placed the folded blanket. My remaining dog never goes into my bedroom unless it's to follow me in there.

My little dog could be a challenge. She and her sister, who died a bit more than a year ago, had attitude. I always said they were little dogs with big attitudes. They could be difficult. But when I adopt a dog, it is for that animal’s natural life. My dogs get the best food, the best veterinary care, the best home.

This death hit hard because it was very unexpected and the cancer progressed so quickly. I can, however, take some comfort in knowing that a wonderful team of veterinarians and support staff took care of my little one during the last four days of her life. We did everything to find out what was causing her problems, and what could be done about it. 

And I know that now she and her sister are once again reunited. As littermates, they were inseparable in life, and now they will be together for eternity.

Missing Her Already

 I miss her already. 

My little 20 pound dog, who will turn 14 on February 5, has been in the hospital being tended to by a veterinary neurologist, for the past three days. We’re still waiting for final confirmation, but it appears very likely that she has lymphoma, a tumor in her spinal canal with cancer cells that have spread to various muscles. She finally took a small amount of soupy dog food, drank water from a bowl that was held up for her, but she still cannot use any of her legs. Her prognosis is not good. We had hoped that an injection of steroids would help shrink the tumor and help her regain some mobility, but so far that has not happened.

Given her age and my unwillingness to subject her to surgery or any kind of invasive procedures, the future does not look good. As I told the veterinarian, I have had a difficult relationship with this little dog. She has not been an easy dog, and I confess that I have been less than patient with her at times. There were times when I could swear she was pressing my buttons on purpose. I know she wasn’t, of course, but there were so many times…

Her sister died a year ago in September, so losing this dog comes far too soon.The only consolation is knowing that she and her sister will be reunited, and she will no longer be in distress, whether physical or mental. She is getting outstanding care, with the pain and anti-anxiety medications, the IV fluids and antibiotics, that support her body's efforts to strengthen.

Sadly, sometimes a body has done all it can, it has fought its best fight, and the best medical care in the world isn't enough. A friend told me to let her go. I replied that I won't let her suffer, but I won't make that final decision until the medications have had time to work. And if they don't work, then I will let her go.

Already my house seems empty, despite the presence of my other dog. When I walk into my bedroom, I reflexively look at her bed in the corner to see if she is there. I still have beds, blankets and towels spread out in the bedroom and in the living room, where I placed them for her return.

I have shared my home and my heart with 13 rescue dogs over the years. I mourn each one. Regardless of how long each is with me, it's never long enough.

Dreading the Holidays

I dread the holiday season.

I really do. I hate the fact that businesses start their push for Christmas buying in August. August! I hate the constant ads for 'the perfect gift.' I hate the scenes of perfect families gathered around the dining table or the Christmas tree, knowing that such scenes rarely exist in real life. I hate the commercials suggesting that a husband should buy his wife (or vice versa) a new $60,000 Lexus. I hate the fact that far too many people fall for the hype, spend money they can't afford to spend, and then freak out when the bills come due in January or February. I hate the fact that holiday-themed movies, and all-Christmas music radio stations, start flooding the airwaves earlier each year, starting in October. I have been seeing commercials for Hallmark Channel's 30 days of Christmas movies for several weeks.

I suspect this year will be worse than ever, given the increased struggles to survive brought on by the pandemic. Businesses and non-profits both are struggling to stay afloat in the face of declining sales and donations.

I guess I'm lucky. I have no one with whom to share the holidays. So there is no pressure to buy 'the perfect gift.' I stopped sending Christmas cards several years ago. The past couple of years, I didn't even decorate the inside of my house for Christmas. I donated my large artificial tree, along with boxes of lights and ornaments, to the local domestic violence shelter. I didn't bother to set up a few Christmas items in the living room, and the few strands of lights I still have remain in a box in the garage. There is absolutely no point in decorating the house. 

I will do what I often due at Christmas -- donate substantial amounts of money to a half dozen or so of my favorite charities. I usually donate to the Illinois hospice that took care of my dad at the end of his life. I donate to a dog rescue group in South Carolina that provides medical care and rehabilitation to horribly abused and neglected dogs until they are well enough to be adopted. I donate to an organization in Kenya that fights against the poaching of elephants. I donate to another group in Nairobi, providing boots and supplies for the men who care for orphaned elephants. I donate to a golden retriever rescue group from which I adopted a dog a few years ago. I donate to the biggest food bank in the state. And I donate to an all-female anti-poaching team in South Africa working to protect the nation's endangered rhinoceros population.

After I retired, I cut way back on my holiday baking, as I used to take much of it to work to share with coworkers. I don't need to eat a 3-pound batch of fudge by myself. I usually make one or two batches of shortbread, and maybe some Russian teacakes, but that's about it for holiday baking. I don't cook a special meal, either. Since I lost most of my ability to taste food a few years ago, food holds little interest for me.

I enjoy listening to my 45 to 50 CDs of Christmas music (after Thanksgiving). Otherwise, Christmas will be just another day. And that's OK. I prefer to celebrate the season of giving by doing just that -- donating money and goods to organizations I know will make good use of my donations.

And I won't miss the mall with its hordes of crazed shoppers. I won't miss the search for 'the perfect gift.' I will enjoy another quiet day at home with my dogs. We will go for our usual morning walk, and I will take another walk by myself later in the day.

 

Christmas 2020 is so far removed from the true intent of the holiday, as has been the norm for the past several years. And the need for food and other necessities is so great this year. I think the best way to honor the spirit of the season is to help those less fortunate.

 

A Glimmer of Hope

The days of the United States appearing like a third world country are, I hope, coming to an end.

Think about it. This country, once the envy of the world and the greatest, most powerful country on earth, is now a third world country that was on the verge of becoming an autocracy.

Our hospitals, overflowing with Covid patients, have few or no available beds in the intensive care units. Our healthcare workers lack sufficient protective equipment. There are so many dead bodies in El Paso that first prisoners, and then the National Guard, were brought in to move them into portable refrigerated trucks. Grocery shelves are empty or nearly so (not all items, but many). There are long lines outside grocery stores of people waiting to get inside for shopping. There are lines of vehicles that go on for several miles with people waiting to get a box of food from a food bank. The outgoing president* finally accepted defeat and allowed the transition to the incoming administration to begin. (We learned that the transition will finally begin, more than 2 weeks after the election was decided). The outgoing president* called Michigan officials to the White House to try to pressure them into opposing certification of the election, which Joe Biden won by more than 154.000 votes. He continues to insist that he won the election.

These are the markings of a third world country. What the outgoing administration has done to this country, its reputation and its citizens is criminal. And I hope the administration officials responsible will be held accountable. Already we are told that the attorney general of the state of New York has 67 criminal complaints ready to be unsealed on Jan. 21, 2021, when the Biden administration takes over. And those convicted of any of those state charges cannot be pardoned.

Let us hope that justice will be served and that the criminals who ran the American government for the past 4 years, who personally benefited from their corrupt actions and who used the power of the American government to enrich and reward themselves and their relatives, will be brought to justice. This group of criminals gave massive tax breaks to the most wealthy Americans. It gave money meant to help struggling businesses and individuals to huge corporations and billionaires. It wanted to take healthcare away from 20 million people ... in the middle of a pandemic. It wanted to, and planned to, destroy Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid, programs on which millions rely and into which workers are forced to pay from every paycheck. This administration has gutted environmental protection measures, opened sensitive areas in the Arctic to oil drilling, allowed the shooting of mother bears and their cubs and wolves and their pups, in their dens, and again allowed the polluting of our air and water.

Already leaders of other countries are calling to congratulate the incoming president. Already the prime minister of New Zealand -- a country that has done an outstanding job of keeping deaths and infections from the coronavirus at a very low level -- has called to offer her country's support. Already the incoming president has named capable, experienced, qualified individuals to his cabinet. Already cabinet nominees represent the diversity of America, rather than being yet more old, white men.

Biden and Harris and the entire administration will have a lot of work to do to start repairing the damage inflicted on this country during the past 4 years. The country remains deeply divided. But for the first time in 4 years, I and many others are hopeful. We can breathe a sigh of relief. We can look forward to, as one pundit said, 4 years of boredom.

 

Restless and Confused

These are confusing times for nearly all of us.

For example, the more I stay home, the more I want to stay at home. But not really.

I am tired of staying home. I am restless. I'm starting to get bored. I miss my travel and my photography. I am an introvert by nature, so staying home because of the pandemic isn't much of an adjustment for me. But I long to be able to do the little things I used to do before the pandemic. I want to be able to get into my car and drive to the grocery store, where I can shop at leisure without wearing a mask. I want to be able to visit someplace without fear of contracting a potentially deadly disease. I want to be able to meet a friend for lunch at a local restaurant. I want to be able to visit the places I had planned to visit this year. I certainly understand and accept the reasons for the stay-at-home orders. I'm just tired of staying at home.

But there also are times when I find myself not wanting to go someplace I need to go. Why is this? I sometimes talk myself out of ordering a meal online and picking it up at a local restaurant's drive-through. I delay trips to the grocery store. It isn't fear of the coronavirus that stops me. I take all precautions when I do venture out. I guess it's apathy. Or maybe it's inertia. Lethargy? Or maybe it's surrender to forces over which I have no control. Maybe it's giving in to the realization that this invisible virus has far greater power than I do, than any of us does.

I don't sit home in my pajamas all day (not with two dogs who expect their early morning walk every day). I don't watch endless hours of television while stuffing my face with chocolates. I engage in a variety of activities: walking, reading, writing, watching television, making photo calendars to raise funds for charity, cooking and housework. I go out to look for interesting things to photograph. I check on single friends. I walk on average one mile more every day than I did before the pandemic hit, for a daily total of 4 miles. Some days I walk 5 miles. Still, I sometimes feel a need to pace or to walk around my yard for a few minutes. The weather is still mostly nice, so being outside even for a few minutes is enjoyable.

I think the word that best describes how I feel is 'restless.' I definitely feel restless. It's hard to sit still, hard to concentrate on reading. The dictionary says that anxiety or boredom can cause a feeling of restlessness. I think that's it. I am a bit anxious (and who isn't these days?) and bored, irritable at times, and frustrated. According to psychologists, these reactions are normal for people in our current, ongoing, never-before-experienced situation. We have no control over this virus, or over much of anything. Our world is topsy-turvy. We can't go to work. We can't hang out with friends. We can't travel. Everything is upside down, and we're not sure how to respond. We are in survival mode.

What we can do is follow the health department guidelines: stay at home as much as possible. Avoid large groups of people. Wash our hands frequently. Wear a mask when in public. We can control our behavior. We can control our reactions to this situation. We can use our time to learn a new skill, or to catch up on reading. And that's about all we can control.

Now it's time to confront things head on, starting with a walk. It's time to work out that restlessness with some physical exercise and more reading. Recently I read a book about a 67-year-old grandmother of 23 who walked the entire Appalachian Trail in a pair of Keds and with a homemade sack over her shoulder. Now she sounds like a person who was restless!

So yeah, things definitely are challenging. And if I feel restless, I can walk around my beautiful back yard or go for a longer walk in the neighborhood. Restlessness isn't so bad. I, and everybody else, will get through this. 

Small Joys

This is a tough time of year.

In addition to the pandemic that continues to worsen every day, the days are growing shorter as the season moves toward winter. For those of us who need lots of sunshine, it can be difficult to keep spirits up with limited hours of daylight. I'm sitting at my desk looking out on a dark yard, but with a lightening sky over Albuquerque. Then it dawned on me (no pun intended) as I enjoy a cup of hot tea: There are some small joys to be had today.

First, I enjoyed being comfortable and warm beneath flannel sheets and a weighted blanket despite a chronic inability to sleep. I took a few minutes before getting up, to savor my comfortable mattress and warm sheets and blankets. Then I got to indulge in a cup of hot tea, this one bringing back memories of a visit to Highclere Castle, aka Downton Abbey. Although the sky is mostly cloudy, orange-tinted clouds are visible at the top of one section of the mountain. Winters in particular share some amazing sunrises with those of us fortunate to live here. Then I got an order for a photo wall calendar, something I make and sell to raise money for a couple of charities. I love sharing my photography with people. 

Thanksgiving is a few days away, and I have no idea what dinner will be. I have searched the grocery store for a frozen turkey roast, without success. I haven't bought one for a few years, so perhaps they are no longer available.

It doesn't really matter what I cook. I will fix something that will fill my stomach. I will go for a walk or two. I will take a nap. I will be grateful for all that I have and try to ignore the things I am missing.

What else do I need?

 

I Just Don't Care Any More

 It's getting harder and harder to care.

This never-ending pandemic has taken away the two things that keep me motivated and active: travel and photography. After nearly 9 months of sitting at home, with nothing but the weekly trip to the grocery store to look forward to, I have lost my motivation. I still manage to get out for a daily walk or two. I still walk my dogs every morning. But I could care less about keeping a dust-free house or wearing earrings or dressing in anything but jeans and a sweatshirt. Those things just don't matter. Today is just like yesterday is just like the day before that is just like the day before that.

I have done a good job of staying busy, with reading and with editing my digital photos. I have entered several photography contests. I am continuing, albeit slowly, to learn Lightroom. But my brain is gradually turning to mush. I am bored with endless reading. I need to stay engaged, to visit new places, to meet new people and to learn new things. That is now impossible, thanks to the millions of American idiots who refuse to social distance and to wear a mask. 

I realize that being asked to wear a mask and to stay away from bars and other crowded places is a real hardship. It's a terrible sacrifice people are being asked to make for the health of others. I mean, how can people be expected to stay away from parties and bars? That must be unconstitutional or something, right?

Nearly 250,000 Americans have lost their lives to Covid-19. Countless others will suffer long-term effects of the virus -- heart problems, breathing problems, mental impairment -- even if they are lucky enough to avoid death. Health care workers are at the breaking point. Hospitals have run out of beds. There are so many dead bodies in El Paso, Texas, that the city has brought in several refrigerated trucks to hold the bodies. Restaurants and other non-essential businesses are struggling to stay afloat. Some 100,000 businesses have so far failed due to the pandemic. Millions have lost their jobs. Congress repeatedly has failed to come up with a second relief package for struggling Americans and small businesses. Why? Because partisan politics is so much more important than helping Americans.

If I seem angry, it's because I am. I am furious. I'm angry with the members of both parties for their refusal to do anything to help. I am furious with the so-called president who is angry and depressed that he lost his bid for reelection, and who now is having a temper tantrum, doing nothing but holding super-spreader rallies, tweeting endless nonsense and playing  golf. But most of all, I am angry and disgusted by everyone who refuses to do the small things that could help this country get control of this pandemic.

I never knew that Americans are either a) incredibly stupid or b) incredibly selfish. While many of us do the right thing -- stay home, socially isolate, wear a face mask -- nothing is going to change until everybody does the right thing. 

I will continue to do the right thing because I am part of society and I don't want to unknowingly spread the virus. And I don't want to get sick with the virus, either.

But  as this pandemic drags on, it gets harder and harder to care ... about anything. In particular, I don't care whether those who ignore public health orders get sick with Covid-19. I do care that their carelessness puts healthcare workers and innocent people at risk. But if the cult followers get sick, oh well.

Finding Gratitude During A Pandemic

Thanksgiving is just two weeks away.

So it's time to start thinking about things for which we are grateful. My first thought was, "This will be a really short list this year." The past 10 months have been awful for nearly everyone around the world. 

Kids can't safely attend school. People have lost their jobs. Small businesses (and some big ones) are out of business. Medical staff in hospitals are overwhelmed and burned out from caring for the endless stream of Covid patients. They are tired of watching their patients die. Even people who survive this terrible virus are often left with debilitating physical ailments, including mental impairment and cardiac issues. So far -- and things are likely going to get a lot worse before they get better -- more than 240,000 Americans have died of Covid-19. States set new records for Covid infections day after day. Hospitals have run out of beds. Social isolation and canceled vacation plans are taking a real toll on the nation's mental health. Except of course, those fools who refuse to wear masks or social distance or avoid large gatherings. 

It can be a bit of a challenge to find things for which to be grateful during the pandemic, when so many people are simply trying to survive and find some normalcy in life. Here are 27 items on my gratitude list:

• my wonderful home
• beautiful surroundings, including views of the mountains
• gorgeous blue skies
• a safe place to take walks
• good food, and plenty of it
• doctors, nurses and medical staff who took care of me earlier this year
• no debt
• a reliable car
• happy, healthy dogs to keep me company
• lots of sunshine
• opportunities to be kind to others
• quiet
• solitude
• hot showers
• privacy
• naps
• a comfortable bed
• books to read
• travel (in a normal year)
• photography
• good health
• inquisitive mind
• desire to keep learning
• my blue eyes
• warm winter clothing 
• an election system that works despite attempts to corrupt it
• a new administration that promises sanity and compassion
  

 I will spend Thanksgiving alone this year, as I did in 2019. My daughter lives in another state, and I don't want her to visit during the pandemic. I won't fix a special meal, and it will be just another day. But that doesn't mean I won't be thankful for the things I have.

Joy to the World

Joy. 

Overwhelming joy.

Joy is what I saw and what I felt as I watched president-elect Joe Biden and vice president-elect Kamala Harris and their families on stage in Delaware after their speeches to America Saturday night. 

My first thought was how wonderful it is to see leaders who smile...who laugh...who dance...who show emotions other than anger. There was no dancing on stage, but there was plenty of dancing in the streets nearby. And I have seen video clips of Harris busting moves. Despite the fact the families on stage wore masks, I could see joy and smiles and laughter in their eyes. Now think about it: when is the last time you saw any of the current first family smile, or laugh? Never? That sounds about right. That family is singularly devoid of joy, or at least as far as we can see. It seems their joy comes only from accumulating more wealth, insulting people, and slaughtering wild animals for fun.

CNN reporter Dana Bash noted that following the Democrats’ victory, "a pressure valve has been released in the cities." She acknowledged that some 70 million people who voted for the incumbent, many of them in rural areas and smaller towns, don't feel this way. Certainly they were not feeling joyful. But joy definitely was the word of the day for the 75 million Americans who have waited 4 years for this day. Biden made a point of promising to try to heal this country, to listen to those who did not vote for him, to work to bring the country closer together.

Joy is something we -- at least I -- have not seen or felt in this country for the past four years. The Biden and Harris families exude joy. They were happy; they were smiling under their masks. We have never seen happiness and smiles from the family of the current occupant of the White House. 

Leaders as well as average citizens of other countries -- the United Kingdom, Germany, France, Canada and Australia among them --  have celebrated the return of the United States to the world community. Biden said he will sign an executive order on his first day in office, returning the US to the Paris Climate Accord.

Biden has said he will give supporters of the president*, and the president* himself, time to come to grips with their loss. We need to recognize the hurt and sense of loss Republican supporters of the incumbent are feeling. We need to treat them far better than they have treated shoe who have opposed the incumbent. Then we need to work together to start repairing the damage done to America, and to Americans, over the past 4 years. 

I have described the feeling of knowing a new era is beginning in America in 70 days in two ways. Although I have never been incarcerated, I imagine the feeling we are experiencing is akin to how an inmate must feel upon release from prison. And feel as if the 50 pound backpack filled with rocks that I have been carrying for the past 4 years has just been removed from my back.

The time for hard work will be here soon enough. For now, And I am more than ready for some joy 

How Could We?

UPDATE: Joe Biden has been elected the 46th president of the United States.

I am thrilled with this result. But what is very dismaying to me and many other people is the fact that some 70 million Americans voted for a known narcissist, con artist, misogynist, sexual predator, racist, liar, draft dodger, cheat and white supremacist. For all those who claim "This isn't who we are," I say "This is definitely who we are." This election proved that.

We as a nation did not repudiate the corruption, bigotry and evil of this administration. We are a nation where 65 million Americans cast a vote for the most corrupt, racist president in generations. We are a nation where 70 million voters feel that this person represents their best choice for president, despite his failure to do anything to control the pandemic that so far has killed more than 230,000 of our fellow citizens. This is the nation where 70 million people support a person who thinks it's OK to discriminate against people because of their sexual preference. 

Seventy million Americans believe that sending in troops and using tear gas against peaceful protesters is acceptable. Sixty five million Americans apparently believe that assaulting women is fine. Some 70 million Americans are willing to cast their votes for someone who refuses to condemn Vladimir Putin after he reportedly paid bounties to Afghan insurgents for each American soldier they killed. Some 70 million voters believe that there "are very fine people" who are white supremacists.

Certainly not everyone who voted for the current president's* reelection believes everything he says and does. I don't agree with the platform of every candidate, but I also am not willing to vote for someone who promises to end Social Security, Medicare and Medicare if reelected. Why are people so stupid as to vote against their own self interest, when losing these social programs will harm the poor and the elderly far more than it will hurt the super rich? How can his supporters claim that they voted for him because "He is a Christian" when he is the opposite of what a Christian should be? How can they vote because he is 'pro-life" when under his policy, immigrant children are taken from their parents and locked in cages?

Do people simply vote for the candidates with an R after their names on the ballot? Are they so stupid and ill-informed that they don't bother to understand what the candidates stand for? Or perhaps at least some of these voters vote R because of the tax breaks multimillionaires and corporations get. 

Seventy million voters cast their ballots for someone who puts his racism and his misogyny on full display. Seventy million million Americans voted for someone who cares absolutely nothing about American citizens who aren't extremely wealthy and who can't help him in his eternal quest for power and wealth. How could women, Blacks and Hispanics vote for him after the cruel and demeaning things he has said about them? How could his claims that he is the "law and order president*" find traction with anybody when he repeatedly flaunts the laws and praises heavily armed thugs who invaded the statehouse in Michigan, even planning to plot and kill the state's Democratic governor?

How could we have been so very wrong about our country and its citizens? We believed there would be a 'blue tsunami' that would wash the racists and bigots and misogynists out of office. We encouraged people to honor the late Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg by voting blue, by voting for the principles to which she devoted her entire brilliant, groundbreaking legal career.

We we so wrong. Moscow Mitch McConnell was reelected overwhelmingly. Lindsay Graham of South Carolina won a decisive victory over his Democratic opponent. The Democrats failed to regain control of the Senate; they even lost seats in the House while retaining a majority.

So, yes, America, this is who we are. We have failed once more the basic test of goodness and kindness, humanity and integrity. How sad is that.

America At the Crossroads

This is it, America. 

Election day 2020. This is without a doubt the most important election since I became eligible to vote some 50 years ago. Apparently many others feel the same way, as more than 100 million Americans have already cast their votes. Many stood in line for up to 10 or 12 hours, in driving rain and blazing sun.

As Joe Biden says, we are fighting for the soul of America. This election will determine whether we can start to rebuild was has been destroyed over the past 4 years, or whether we will continue on the path to autocracy and economic ruin for the masses. Will we choose democracy or fascism?

If Biden loses, we will certainly see more power grabbing by the president*. We will continue to see him and his cronies in Congress enrich themselves and their wealthy friends at the expense of ordinary Americans. We will see him continue to suck up to the dictators of the world, such as Putin, Kim Jung Un and Mohammed bin Salman. We will watch as America withdraws even further into isolationism. Alliances with our long-term allies will continue to wither. We will be hit with even more lies, and more egregious lies. Environmental protections will be completely destroyed, opening our national parks and wilderness areas to extractive uses such as mining and oil drilling. Nothing will be done to combat the coronavirus pandemic sweeping the country.

Nothing will be done to stem the hatred and violence this president* loves to foment. I expect the members of his cult to feel emboldened by his victory -- whether legitimate or not -- and to increase their hateful speech and actions against those who disagree with him. The evangelical 'Christians' and their allies in the courts will press to remove reproductive rights from half the population of the US. They will continue their efforts to return members of the LGBTQ community to second-class status. We will inch closer to becoming a theocracy, with Muslims, Jews and other religious groups being shoved aside.

We cannot, we must not, allow this to happen. Is Joe Biden a perfect candidate? He is not. He wasn't my first choice in the large field of potential Democratic candidates. But he has the knowledge, the temperament, the energy and the compassion to lead us out of the mess he will inherit. He is a good man. He has a deep Christian faith.

If you are registered to vote (and some states allow same-day registration and voting), and you are not among the more than 100 million Americans who have already cast their votes, please VOTE TODAY!

Let's Not Return to Normal

 What a year 2020 has been ... and there are still two months to go.

Australia, Colorado, California, Oregon and Washington were beset by devastating wildfires. The United states was hit by back-to-back hurricanes. The coronavirus pandemic has taken the lives of more than 1 million people worldwide, more than 230,000 of them in America, and left countless others with lingering health problems. It also caused massive unemployment and business collapse. Europe is now shutting down for the second time due to a resurgence of the virus. America, which never really shut down, needs to do the same.

In the US, the run-up to the election has showed the ugly side of many Americans, who believe that freedom of speech and freedom of assembly are rights to be enjoyed only by those who support the current occupant of the White House. 

As much as I have hated the past 4 years, and as much pain, suffering and death we have seen, I don't want a return to the 'normal' of the past 4 years, which has been, really, anything but normal. It is not normal to have a president* who delights in sowing division among the country's citizens, who loves creating chaos and inciting violence. Calling for the arrest of political opponents and calling them insulting names is anything but normal. Blocking access to polling places -- voter intimidation and suppression by supporters of one political party -- is not normal. Refusing to give federal aid to cities and states run by Democrats is not normal. Telling more than 25,000 lies in the past 4 years is not normal. Attacking the news media for telling the truth and for not praising his every word and action is not normal. Questioning whether protests should be allowed (they are, according to that pesky document known as the US Constitution) is not normal. Allowing a deadly virus to spread throughout the country while dismissing physicians and public health experts is not normal. Refusing to lead by example is not normal. Advocating the ingestion or injection of disinfectants to kill the virus is not normal.

Being totally lacking in compassion toward those who have lost friends and family to the pandemic -- never once offering words of sympathy -- is not normal. Failing to recognize and respond to the pain and anger of Black Americans who continue to be victims of police oppression, who continue to die, unarmed, simply for being Black, is not normal. And add to that the higher rates of death from Covid-19 among Black and other minority populations.

It isn't normal to send heavily armed, unidentified storm troopers into Democratic-run cities such as Portland and Seattle to turn up the heat and create problems that are blamed on peaceful protesters. It isn't normal to pepper spray peaceful protesters on the grounds of a church so the president*, who never attends church and whose actions and words are anything but Christian, can have a photo op with a Bible, a book he clearly has never read (many people think he is unable to read) and whose teachings he clearly abhors unless politically expedient.

It isn't normal to award the Medal of Freedom -- the nation's highest civilian honor -- to a hate-spewing racist and misogynist. It isn't normal to have no culture -- no concerts, no artwork, no poetry -- in the White House. It isn't normal to have a president* who is so vindictive that he has worked ceaselessly to undo the accomplishments of his predecessor, the first Black president in our nation's history. It isn't normal to promote conspiracy theories and to praise White supremacists. It isn't normal to hold large rallies during a pandemic, creating super-spreader events that ultimately sicken thousands of people. Refusing to pass a package of much-needed aid to citizens and small businesses during the pandemic, as the US Senate has done -- is not normal. Pledging to dismantle the Affordable Care Act, a hallmark of the Obama era, to remove health insurance from millions of people is not normal. Pledging to kill Social Security and Medicare, into which tens of millions of workers have paid for decades and upon which millions of the country's elderly depend, is not normal. 

It isn't normal to weaken or eliminate protections for endangered species, clean air and clean water. It isn't normal for the president to create a country devoid of joy, of happiness, of fun. The current president* always looks as if he just sucked on a lemon. His very appearance, his ever-present scowl, is not normal in someone who is supposed to comfort and reassure the nation during times of crisis. The same goes for the first lady, who complained bitterly and profanely about how much she hates decorating the White House for Christmas. She is almost never seen smiling.

 It isn't normal to have senior advisors to the president who are either close family members or avowed White supremacists. It isn't normal for those in key cabinet positions to hold their positions because of their contributions to the president's campaign fund rather than for their qualifications. 

So no, I do not want things to return to 'normal.' I want our country, when it finally emerges from the pandemic, to become a better America. I want a better 'normal.' This can be, once again, a great country. There is much work to be done. Racial and gender equality must be confronted head on. People must once again trust science and public health officials. We must again together as a united country, putting country above politics.

The question is, 'Can we and will we do what it takes to create a new, better normal?"

Trying to Find the Words

This has been a horrible year for people around the world.

The exceptions, of course, are the billionaires and mega-millionaires who have increased their wealth by even more billions. The wealthiest Americans have more money than ever, while ordinary Americans struggle to pay rent and buy food. All of us are more stressed for far longer than we have ever been. People have lost their jobs and their businesses. Congress (the Senate in particular) has spent more time pushing through a new Supreme Court justice than on passing a relief bill for Americans in need. More than 230,000 Americans have died from Covid-19, while countless others will live with the lingering effects of the virus.

Tempers are short (I know mine is). I have lost interest in taking care of housekeeping and other mundane chores. People are stressed beyond belief. Insomnia is rampant. Alcohol use has increased dramatically. Parents struggle with trying to work from home while taking care of their kids, or homeschooling them. 

As a writer, I usually don't struggle to find the right words. But now, just days before the most crucial election of my lifetime, the words aren't there to describe how I feel. I am worried. Stressed. Anxious. Frustrated. Bored. Angry. Despair. Tired. Sad. Disgusted. Isolated.  Frightened. Unable to focus. Easily distracted. Uninspired. Yet these words just scratch the surface of my feelings.

I am fortunate that I don't have to worry about losing my job (I retired 10 years ago). I don't have to worry about making a mortgage payment or paying rent. I have food. I have no children at home. I have good health insurance, thanks to that horrible "socialist" health care program called Medicare. I have no business to worry about.

But I do worry. And I am afraid for our health care workers, for those suffering with Covid-19 and struggling even after recovering from this horrible disease. I worry about myself when I hear about others who get coronavirus despite following the recommended precautions. I worry about the stress so many are under. I worry about those in minority populations who are even more greatly impacted by Covid. I worry about the deep divisions in our country. I worry about the hatred that fills so many Americans. I worry about the threats to our civil rights from a president* who attacks the news media and reporters who don't praise him constantly. A president* who questions whether public protests should be permitted (they are allowed by the Constitution of the United States). A president* who has packed the Supreme Court with conservative justices only too willing to do his bidding. An attorney general who serves not on behalf of the American people, but on behalf of his cult leader. 

My greatest worry, of course, is the survival of my country as a democratic republic as it is being dragged into becoming a divided country led by a would-be autocrat. Regardless of who wins the elections, I expect much civil unrest. Reversing the damage of the past 4 years won't be easy. Harder still will be to heal the hatred, violence and divisions encouraged by the occupant of the White House.

Politics has never been something of which I took much notice. I voted in major elections. I was familiar with presidential candidates and their platforms. But never did it occupy so much of my mind. Never did it present the threat to our country as it does now. Never has this country had such an unhinged president* and a political party bent on destroying the country.

I don't post political signs in my yard for fear of retribution from members of a certain political party, although there are signs supporting both presidential candidates in the neighborhood and none has been stolen or destroyed. Things appear to be very civil. Besides, I doubt that a campaign sign has ever persuaded anybody to vote for or against a particular candidate.

I told a neighbor recently that I wish I could do what the bears do: Stuff my face, consume many calories, and then hibernate for several months, reappearing in the spring. Sadly, I can't do that. 

So I will resist stuffing my face. I will continue to write, to read and to edit my photos. I will do my daily walks and watch television if I feel like it. I will cook comforting foods. (So far I have made stew and chicken noodle soup, and a batch of homemade granola). I will take a nap if I feel tired. And if the house is dusty, who's going to see it? I don't have visitors, and my dogs (the source of much of the dust) don't care.

At this point, I and most others are in survival mode.  We must take care of ourselves. Give ourselves a break. Find, and do, things that bring us joy. Step away from social media and the news. We must survive to fight for our country, and to help rebuild it.

 

I Hate the Telephone

I am an introvert, and I detest the telephone.

I simply hate the telephone. It doesn't matter whether it's a land line (yes, I still have one of those for my home security system) or a cell phone. I hate hearing an incoming call.

Incoming calls are more than likely from a politician, a charity, a telemarketer or a spammer. All of these are simply trying to get money from me. Being on the federal 'do not call list' does nothing to stop the calls.

I have lost track of how many calls I have received from somebody calling about a warranty for my car. I have been tempted to ask whether the person is calling about my 2013 car (whose warranty has long expired, a car I no longer own) or about my 2019 car (which still has more than 2 years left on its warranty). Often the call is a recording, but if it is a live person, I simply tell the caller to F--K OFF! and end the call. It is rare that I answer a call from an unknown number, but recently I was dealing with some medical offices whose numbers I didn't recognize, so I answered the calls. 

Phone calls are intrusive. They are disruptive. They interrupt whatever I was doing, whether it was reading or watching television or enjoying a walk outside on a beautiful day. And there is always the expectation that I should answer the phone. It's not as if I disrespect the caller, or that I dislike the caller if he/she is a friend or family member. 

Many/most introverts don't like small talk. I used to work for a guy who was amazing at small talk. He could meet someone and a few minutes later one would think they had known each other for years. Not me. I hate small talk, and I'm really not good at it. This is one reason I don't go to parties. Not engaging in small talk can make introverts seem brusque, but we aren't trying to be rude. We're simply not good at small talk.

The other thing I dislike about phone calls is the lack of a way to gracefully, and graciously, end the call. Sometimes I really do need to end the call and attend to something else. Sometimes the caller needs end the call for a legitimate reason. But too often the conversation becomes repetitive or just needs to be ended.

And as much as I hate incoming calls, I detest making calls to anyone for any reason. If I am researching something online with the goal of making a purchase, and I have to call in order to place an order or ask a question -- I won't. I will find a company that allows me to make a purchase online without calling. Making a call obligates me to talk to a stranger or to a friend for who knows how long. I have one friend who is very extroverted and loves to talk. Our longest call lasted 3 hours! She is a wonderful friend, but I really don't want to be on the phone for 3 hours.

I also hate playing phone tag. Making one necessary call is bad enough, but I won't call, leave a message, miss the return call, and call again.

My hobbies are reading, writing and nature photography -- things that are solitary and devoid of small talk and mindless chit chat. Yes, I take group trips to a variety of places to take photographs, but the group always spreads out, with each photographer staking out his/her own place from which to shoot. Small talk is minimal. I always get a private room so I can decompress alone after a day of togetherness. Photo editing also is a solitary pursuit. 

And while I may enjoy getting together with a friend for lunch (pre-pandemic), I usually initiate the invitation by e-mail.

I'm not a hermit. I call my sister, or she calls me, every couple of weeks. My daughter calls from time to time. I talk to another friend when she calls (but I rarely call her unless it's her birthday or to check up on her).  

I carry my cell phone with me when I go for a walk, and when I walk my dogs, in case of emergency. I don't carry it because I simply can't be without it. Going for a solitary walk is good for my soul. I don't want an uninvited phone call to ruin it.