Pandemic Ponderings

Well, i am retired…except for writing that book…and posting Murphy’s Laws…and reorganizing…and although this might be a bit too crass for lots of nice folks, but getting ready to die — hell, with the way i have lived, it probably should have happened quite a bit ago yet even though i’m not through with all i want to do, i’m ready to go if called as i was when the old US of A yelled at me to become part of the conflict in sixty-seven, which ended up in an awesome love between the lady sea and me and there are still a lot of things i need to finish and to do, but going on is something to consider in this time of peril, unless you are too squeamish to consider such things)…and need to get all of that crap in the garage which Maureen won’t allow in the house, either gone or designated for someone else…and there are the projects in the yard in the house…and i need to get in a couple of rounds of golf…and i need to walk remembering the joy i had in running with no speed check and no place to go, just run and breathe and take in the world around me even in the rain and oh how i loved to run in the rain and that is now reduced to walking the shore in the rain which i don’t do enough…and Maureen and i need to dine at a bunch of places we love since that was the evolution was several times a week during a courtship bunches of years ago and yes, i remember that critical moment at the close of the evening after post-dinner desserts and armagnac (for me) on the divan on the second floor of the Hotel Del Coronado Boat House, which has given way to dining tables because folks need to make a bit more money, i guess but back then, ah yes, we reached an understanding and it brought about this relationship…and i need to have a couple of more beers with curmudgeons after a round of golf looking out over a course bordering the Pacific…and Henry Harding and i need to have a couple of more bullshit talks over George Dickel (mine) in the sitting room of his and Brenda’s house that has lived through four generations, at least…and there are a couple of more lunches i would like to have with a glass (or two) of the house chardonnay with Pete Toennies and Bob Ellis at Albie’s in Mission Valley with the silk paintings of nudes looking down on us but er, they’re already defunct, Albie’s not the nudes, and have not come back…and Alan Hicks and i need to go to Whale & Ale, the British pub in of all places San Pedro, which, San Pedro Navy housing that is, was my refuge from my CHENG days, the scariest but one of the most satisfying ship tours i had…and i’d like to load and unload a well deck from the wing wall one more time with Mike 8’s and LCU’s in the water with their ramps down and the loads going up their ramps in rough seas…and, oops, i’m at it again, wandering off, you know.

But i got time. i’m retired but now my wife and daughter are protecting me. That means i can’t go out anywhere. Home. Except walks. They’re good with walks. No where else.

So i think. Therefore, i’m not sure i am, Mister Descartes. And i’m not sure that’s bad or good, but i do it anyway.

Gotta tell you i was hopeful at first. i have wondered for a long time if our country nowadays could take on an enemy like Hitler and the Hirihito regime in Japan four score years ago. Didn’t know if we had enough to unify us; didn’t know if the different blocs of my-cause-first would not cause havoc to interrupt getting it done. Then this virus stuff hit us and even though it was impacting my lifestyle, i saw hope. The country was unifying, going to do the right thing to protect everyone, Concern for those afflicted, concern for those most threatened, concern for those risking themselves to help others. Hopeful, i was.

Then, the clowns in the bunch with no regard for the whole show their little minds in selfishness and disregard for everyone else, and those who think they know better than the experts, and those fabricating false anecdotes and preventatives, and those trying to take advantage and rip others off with crisis scares, and those who have decided it’s not their fault and point fingers at everybody else and try to get position to win another election so they will be better off (they think) and to hell with everyone else who aren’t with them, and…

And then, i think again. There are a lot of good people out there who aren’t playing games who mean what they say, who are reaching out without regard for politics or skin color or religion or borders, trying to help without compensation, believing, ah yes, believing we are going to get out of this eventually and perhaps, unfortunately, just perhaps, we are all going to be better for it.

Maybe.

So i have retreated to my garage work, sitting in the middle of the day at the desk my father made for my daughter, drinking a pint of Lagunitas Little Sumpin’ Ale, which has become my favorite thanks to Alan Hicks, recording old records, and today’s LP is Gordon Lightfoot’s “Summertime Dream,” which i chose so i could listen to “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” something Alan and i have discussed being old sea dogs, and i discovered (again) how much i loved his, Lightfoot’s not Alan’s, stuff and marveled (again) at his, well maybe both of their wisdom like the first song (there are others) “Race Among the Ruins:”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9OsonnGnXQU

And if you don’t wish to listen, how ’bout these lyrics:

You think you had the last laugh
Now you know this can’t be true
Even though the sun shines down upon you now
Sometimes you must feel blue
You make the best of each new day
You try not to be sad
Even though the sky falls down upon you
Call it midnight, feelin’ bad
When you wake up to the promise
Of your dream world comin’ true
With one less friend to call on
Was it someone that I knew
Away you will go sailin’
In a race among the ruins
If you plan to face tomorrow
Do it soon
The road to love is littered
By the bones of other ones
Who by the magic of the moment
Were mysteriously undone
You try to understand it
But you never seem to find
Any kind of freedom comin’ clean
Is just another state of mind
When you wake up to the promise
Of your dream world comin’ true
With one less friend to call on
Was it someone that I knew
Away you will go sailin’
In a race among the ruins
If you plan to face tomorrow
Do it soon
So take the best of all that’s left
You know this cannot last
Even though your mother was you maker
From her apron strings you pass
Just think about the fool
Who by his virtue can be found
In a most unusual situation
Playin’ jester to the clown
When you wake up to the promise
Of your dream world comin’ true
With one less friend to call on
Was it someone that I knew
Away you will go sailin’
In a race among the ruins
If you plan to face tomorrow
Do it soon
When you wake up to the promise
Of your dream world comin’ true
With one less friend to call on
Was it someone that I knew
Away you will go sailin’
In a race among the ruins
If you plan to face tomorrow
Do it soon.

 

And, by jove, i think that boy got into my skull.

Stay safe.

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