An Eventful Morning

What do finishing Middlemarch, cutting your thumb while emptying the dishwasher at 5 am, and the anticipation of a day of storms have in common? Virtually nothing. But that won’t stop me from attempting to write about all three this morning. 

So, I thought I would put this pandemic lockdown to good use by reading a couple classic novels that I have somehow never read. The first on my list was George Eliot’s Middlemarch. Set in the 1830’s in the fictional provincial town of Middlemarch, this sprawling epic is the story of the intertwined lives of a set of families who deal with the calamities that befall their fortunes and reputations in mid 19th century England. I have always been told that this is Eliot’s masterwork and one of the finest novels ever written in the English language. Well...

See, here’s the thing. You know that nagging feeling you get when you read anything by Jane Austin that she is way smarter than you? Yeah, well...its twice as bad with George Eliot. This woman could lay down a simple declarative sentence like nobody’s business, with a mixture of grace and intelligence that makes this writer want to give up writing altogether. There is no way in hades that George Eliot would ever write a sentence like...See, here’s the thing...for example.  However, having said all of this, she has that dreadful habit of English writers of a certain time where one gets the feeling that she is being paid by the word. Holy crap, (another expression she wouldn’t have been caught dead using) does she go on and on and on about inconsequential things! Reading this book felt very much like surviving a gauntlet. You just had to plow through the psychological motivations of crossing one’s frail hands on one’s lap to get to the part where something startling happens. Many of the characters in this book are so exasperating in their foolishness, so desperately dense, and so lacking in any ability of getting to the freaking point, you find yourself fighting the urge to give the thing up. But then you encounter a scene rendered with such beautiful writing, such immense talent on display, you find the courage and determination to trudge on...and ultimately you are rewarded. But, seriously, what in God’s name was Dorothea thinking marrying a stiff like Casaubon? A 20 year old woman marries a 49 year old dried up academic and then is shocked to discover that they have nothing in common? And how tedious is Fred Vincy with his worthless laziness, general lack of ambition, and sense of entitlement? Well, I will not retell the story here. If you want to know what happens, read it yourself. Despite it’s frustrations, I’m glad I did.

My morning routine includes emptying the dishwasher while I wait for my coffee to brew. This morning, at the outset of this task I happened to reach for the blade of the chopper ninja thing and sliced my thumb. Have you ever tried emptying a dish washer at 5 am with a bleeding thumb? I don’t recommend it. Of course, it doesn’t help matters that I am on so many blood thinners that even the most minor abrasion produces rivers of blood. Eventually, I prevailed. All the clean dishes are properly put away, the thumb has finally stopped bleeding, and now I can concentrate on the thrill I feel at the gathering wave of storms due to hit us here in Short Pump today. The line of storms on the radar is impressive. There promises to be high wind, thunder and lightening, and heavy downpours which will bring minor flooding! Why this sort of forecast excites me so is a perplexing question since I share a house with Lucy the Lunatic, a dog preternaturally inclined to erratic behavior in such weather, including but not limited to emptying her bladder on inconvenient surfaces. But still I love thunder storms. Don’t you?

COVID-19 and Sophie’s Choice

In an hour or so I will head into the office to begin week 7 of the Coronavirus lockdown here in the Old Dominion. Over the weekend some dude from the State Health Department let slip his view that the stay at home order would probably be in place for two years!! When the manure began hitting the fan, he quickly walked his words back with a weaselly denial, the kind that bureaucrats are famous for. Policy makers in Virginia...Virginia...are rumbling about two more years of lock down, a state ranked 18th out of 50 states by confirmed cases of the virus. Question: How many businesses with less than 50 employees do you know who could survive two more years of being closed? Answer: Zero. 

So, the difficult question that policy makers have to address is, in order to save as many lives as possible from the Coronavirus, how much economic destruction is tolerable? This involves the philosophically difficult question of attaching a financial value on a human life. Some will say that it is impossible to assign a monetary value to a human life since every human life has infinite possibility. On the other hand, we make these decisions all the time whenever cost/benefit analysis is done on public safety questions. For example, governments at all levels in this country know that deaths from automobile accidents could be severely cut by just a few decisions, placing speed restrictions on car engines, forbidding anyone less than 21 or over 70 years old to drive. However, there are strong competing economic reasons not to do so. Apparently, although people are fully aware of the risks associated with the purchase and use of automobiles and motorcycles, they continue to do so. This same calculation is made in a whole host of activities that we all participate in every day. We weigh the benefits and the dangers of all sorts of activities and make our decisions based on what we think is worth the risk. Policy makers here in Virginia are trying to find that balance between public health and the economic activity that sustains our lives. Let’s say that their best estimates are that reopening the economy on June 1st will save 250,000 jobs and save 10,000 businesses from bankruptcy...but...they also have estimates that say reopening on June 1st, rather than say, two years from now, would result in 10,000 more avoidable deaths from the virus? What do you do? For the 10,000 people who would die and their families, the correct decision is obvious. For the 250,000 who lose their jobs and the 10,000 businesses that go under, its a different story.

Obviously, I have plucked all of those numbers out of the air to illustrate a point. However, it is precisely these sorts of calculations that officials in government all over this country are grappling with. It is for this reason that we all should be praying for them. They need wisdom and courage to make the right calls. 

I’m glad its them and not me.

The Light At The End of My Tunnel

The first of May hasn’t quite arrived yet, but during a lockdown pandemic, who’s counting days? This is normally the time of year when I begin the slow, plodding process of becoming useless. No matter what the task, my efforts become perfunctory. I start going through the motions, marking time, making mental etches on the prison cell in my head. Why? Because May the 1st brings Maine inside the 60 day window. Since this year’s trip begins on June 27, tomorrow is the day.

Some of you have asked me if we still plan on going to Maine what with the Coronavirus and it’s quarantine requirements. By way of an answer I will share with you my reply to Tiffany at On The Water In Maine, our amazing real estate company in Camden when she sent me an email reminder that my second half payment for our month of July rental was due:

“Tif, Pam and I can assure you that we will arrive at Loon Call on Crawford Lake on the 27th of June if we have to hitch hike and then be dropped in the lake by helicopter and swim to shore!”

If the month of July still finds us in nationwide lock down, I feel that we can lock ourselves down on a lake in Maine just as easily as we can in Short Pump. All we have to do is get there. To that end I am fully prepared to resurrect a strategy from 25 years ago. Back then, when the kids were little, I would leave the house around 7 o’clock at night and drive straight through...stopping for the first time in New Jersey for gas and a bathroom break, and not again until the first rest area in Maine, 12 hours later. Of course, back then, we still had another hour and a half left to make it to Dummer’s Beach, where Pam essentially grew up. Now we head to Camden, Maine which is slightly closer. But, if we have to forego a night at a hotel on the way up to stay within safety protocols, that is exactly what we will do. This is non-negotiable. If I have to stay in my home in Short Pump, allowed to leave my house only to buy groceries and go for walks, I can do that in Maine.

There are two trips planned this year, the month of July on Crawford Lake in a place called Loon Call:

...and two weeks in October (maybe three if we catch a break) at our favorite place in the Universe, Loon Landing:

This is what keeps me going right now. This is the light at the end of the tunnel. This is the reward for all the hard work, the point of all the patience. If I had the power and the resources, I would take everyone I love on this earth with me. Everyone should get to experience it just once. Coronavirus or no Coronavirus.

“I Have a Good Life”

The last six weeks has been an education. I have learned things about the world, my country and myself, both good and bad. Quarantine and self isolation has clarified some things for me, made me more thankful for friends and family. I saw my country, in the early days of the crisis, momentarily set aside the acrimony and division that has plagued us for so long, and unite around the shared sacrifice of the moment. Six weeks in, it’s all back with a vengeance, but it sure was nice while it lasted.

I’ve listened to the agonizing stories of my clients who own small businesses. They have felt helpless as the losses pile up. They feel a responsibility to their employees but wonder how long they can hold it all together. They are watching what took a lifetime to build slowly slipping away. It is an unprecedented type of agony.

Luckily, I have not lost anyone close to me to the virus, although a dear friend with troubling symptoms has just been tested and is currently waiting for the results. But, I do know friends who have lost parents who were in nursing homes and hospice, and had to suffer the indignity of allowing their Moms and Dads to die alone with no one to hold their hands.

With each passing day, my social media newsfeed grows more and more unhinged, unaccredited rumors and stories from bloggers I’ve never heard of passed along as fact...COVID-19 is a plot hatched in the deep state to take away religious freedom...5G towers are spreading the virus...Trump is going to cancel the election and declare martial law....post pandemic life in America will require a 70% tax rate...I take a deep breath and whisper a prayer.

The other day I was talking to my brave friend about all of this. She shares my profession and is trying to deal with all of this while in a life and death struggle with cancer, chemo poison coursing through her veins. Can you even imagine?? The exchange between us is an excellent summation of the daily battle that takes place within all of us in one way or another...

Me: Every single morning, no matter what hour I wake up, the news is overwhelmingly bad...with very few exceptions. It has been this way for over 6 weeks now. I’ve discovered that every single day, finding the motivation to move forward has to be an act of the will. I have to DECIDE to fight the negativity. It doesn’t happen naturally, I have to force it on myself by an act of the will. Does that make any sense? If I give in to what I read of the news of the day, I wind up wallowing in despair all day. It’s like getting stuck in the mud. Its not screwing on a fake happy face, but rather, a conscious decision to seek out the good, the positive. It takes great intentional effort.

Her: Yes I understand completely.  I’m the same way.  I have to remind myself almost daily that overall I’m doing really well!  I remind myself daily that even in the midst of the storm I’m so very blessed. I have a good life. But, it has been a lot for one person to endure. When you throw in a chilly rain, it makes it worse. Your dumb jokes make me laugh, which is a lot better than crying. The bottom line is, after I have done all I can do, I have to turn everything over to the Lord and trust him.

Me: Easier said than done...

Her: Yes, but it has to be done. Also, embrace joy wherever you find it...in Pam, your children, cookies, beautiful trees and flowers...Tomorrow is a new day!!

...This from a woman who is enduring unspeakable illness and pain every single day, and yet declares with astonishing confidence , “ I have a good life.”

Yes she does.

“How are you doing”?

I am perfectly aware that this is not an appropriate breakfast to be eating at 5:18 in the morning, or any other time for that matter. However, when you’ve been awake since 3:45 and get hungry, you eat what is at hand. These sea salt caramel/chocolate cookies were available to me and I was powerless to resist. But, I am told that eggs and milk were involved in their creation, two perfectly acceptable breakfast staples.

When people ask me how I’m getting along during this pandemic, my answer is usually some version of “pretty well, actually.” The reason that this answer is mostly true is because I am married to Pam Dunnevant.

Since the day that Henrico County schools closed on March the 12th or whenever it was, Pam has been home all day everyday. Like everyone else, the isolation has been troubling. She, like everyone else, is worried about the future, concerned for her family and friends. But, with her it feels and looks different. There is a calmness about her, a serenity about everything. After a half day in the office, I come home at lunchtime a bundle of frayed nerves, often with a vacant expression on my face. More often than not I find her busy with some project or another. She is cheerful, relaxed, calm. I pick up on it and it begins to calm me as if it’s contagious. I begin taking my cues from her. I begin to relax. I start thinking of mundane things, the daily plot of life, the relentless forward progress of things. Yes, rearranging the furniture in the den needed to be done. Yes, she made cookies, a new recipe she’s trying out and yes, I will have one at 5:18 in the morning for my breakfast. No matter what is happening around me, I see in her a cheerful confidence which is infectious and allows me to truthfully answer, “pretty well, actually. I’m doing pretty well.”

Knowledge Is Power

Granted, its not everyday when a photograph like this gets published in a real newspaper. I would expect this in The Onion or The Babylon Bee. But this story came to me courtesy of the New York Post with the terrifying headline...Can the Coronavirus be Spread Through Farts?

Apparently, two Australian doctors just completed a study on the subject, and like so much else on the subject of COVID-19, the conclusion was a definite maybe. Drs. Norman Swan and Andy Tagg sat out to determine whether flatulence in the Age of the Cornoinavirus can be both silent and deadly.

Luckily for humans, most of us wear what amounts to several different masks in the form of underwear, pants...etc, which serve as excellent masks to protect ourselves and others from “aerosolized feces.” However, there are no published data on whether flatulence alone presents any risk of transmission. Still, Dr. Tagg suggests not throwing all caution...to the wind. Instead he suggests keeping your pants on and considering them part of your personal protective equipment, just in case. Dr. Swan added the phrase, “no bare-bum farting.”

Look, I know what you’re thinking here, “You have got to be shi**ing me, right?” Sadly, no. This is real. I reproduce this story here because knowledge is power. Sometimes the “facts” about this deadly virus can be confusing, even contradictory. We shouldn’t be wearing face masks. Yes, we should be wearing face masks..etc. And, the last thing I want to do is spread fear. (When Pam first saw this headline, her response was, “Ok, I’m doomed, then.”)  But, we must not be afraid of where the science takes us here. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say.

So the lesson here is...we all need to isolate ourselves from beans, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, cabbage, and lentils. I’m thinking that bean burrito night at the local nudist truck stop would be considered a ground zero hot spot.

On a cautionary note, these two doctors are Australian...from down under. Make of that what you will.

What The Heck??

Ok, what in the Sam Hill is this fresh abomination? 

This ad popped up on my blog this morning for reasons that suggest that there is a bug in the algorithm. Anyone who has known me for more than fifteen minutes knows that I am not exactly what anyone would call a fashionista. My taste in clothing lies more in the direction of whatever is most comfortable, and what happens to be...clean. So, imagine my surprise when...this...monstrosity presents itself to me at 7:27 am. I mean...what is this thing??

First of all, the model is one of those androgynous blade-thin humans who still shave with a hot towel. Thankfully they cut off the picture at the bridge of his nose to save us all from having to stare into the abyss of those limpid pools!! After you get beyond the model, you have to contend with the fact that this dude is wearing a cravat of some sort—under a warm up jacket—wrapped inside a plaid sport coat. The color scheme here seems to be Dijon mustard left out overnight. This outfit comes to us by a company called Bugatchi, a firm with a sufficiently Italian sounding name to attract the people for whom this is illustrative of proper clothing. Luckily for us, this cutting edge get-up is ON SALE. 25% off we are promised, with the dangling carrot of the possibility of up too 50% off.

No...I didn’t click on this ad. I just sort of stared at it listlessly for a while wondering what occasion might be appropriate for me to show up so bedecked? Maybe the next time I am invited to an art gallery featuring avant guard revelatory finger painting. Perhaps one day I will be asked to attend a cocktail party at a Yacht Club fundraiser to benefit Youth Sailing Clubs in the inner city.

Now that I’ve posted my views on this subject, I suspect that some deviously clever member of my family will save this to their Christmas list for 2020.