Mental Quarantine

So on my daily constitutional, I waxed philosophic, as it seemed pointless to go back home and wax my car. Over the past years, I really enjoy staying home more and more -- something really enticing has to be around to lure me away from the house and 'hood I love. And yet -- now, at day 8 of shelter distancing, to mix the phrases of the day, I am indeed feeling somewhat trapped.

It brought to mind a long conversation I had with one of my partner Paul's best childhood friends, who I'll call Arthur, since that's his name. Arthur was always a strange, enigmatic fellow, who, when asked what he did for a living, was evasive. Well -- turned out there was a reason for that -- he dealt a lot of weed up North, and ended up arrested and sentenced to 10 years in federal prison. After he was released and paroled, we sat on a balcony in Aventura and spoke for quite awhile.

He told me that most of his time was in a camp -- in Fort Lee. There were no supervising guards a lot of the time -- he and a bunch of convicted, corrupt politicians sat around playing cards. I asked if that meant it didn't really seem like prison. Oh yes it did, he corrected -- if one walked away and was caught, you got sent to a place with bars and such. So -- the true prison was mental -- not bars.

I also thought of Viktor Frankl, the Holocaust Survivor and psychiatrist, who founded so -called logotherapy, which said we are each responsible for our own thoughts and state of mind. Frankl was famous for getting through the most awful parts of the Camps by imagining himself in a field of wildflowers.

Hell -- I LIVE in a field of tropical foliage -- actually a hammock. I have an infinitely easier time of it than Frankl, or even Arthur, did.

The Ds are creative. Last night, D2 read a bedtime story on FaceTime (tm) to her nephew. Tonight is our chance -- I have to make sure I stay up to 9:30, after his last feeding, to have our turn.

On the furry, grand-dog side, D2 and Jonathan found out their local dog park is closed. Betsy loved the place -- frolicking with her canine friends. So she'll have to make do with walks around the Grove -- again -- not exactly bad.

Tough times. Our Rabbi, Yossi, posted a sad video of himself walking the empty halls of Baptist Hospital -- turned away from a death bed visit with one of his congregant's elderly father. I don't think the dying man had covid-19, but the hospital was being safe. Yossi understood that, but it hit home that the most basic job of clergy, being there at a critical point in life, was forbidden.

David Brooks, one of my favorite writers, had a great opinion piece in the Times, called "F the Virus." He pointed out the folly of thinking our life's plans ARE our lives. We plan, and the Universe often has very different plans. People get sick and die -- often very unexpectedly, and to think we can escape that is childish.

Those of us who accept this are ahead of the curve, at least. Even though I invest conservatively, to take care of my family years into the future, at least financially, I realize the control isn't mine.

Still -- I really wish this damn curve would flatten, already.