Plague Journal, Out-And-About
Yesterday, I departed the house for my doctors office to keep my quarterly checkup appointment. Motivated by the insistence of the insurance company that I be seen by my Doctor quarterly, I decided to keep the appointment. I have risk on both sides, indeterminate health risk by moving around in public areas, and financial risk of being flagged and having future claims questioned by the insurance company. Welcome to the 21st century, “step right up, it is your turn to do your best on the tightrope.”
While I was out, I stopped in for a brief visit at Taste of Paris, a delightful restaurant, owned by a friend, Chef Claude, and staffed by people who know our names. The place was dark. The front door was open, so I entered. Natalie was behind the counter and after a shared greeting I purchased four apple feuilleté, two chocolate croissants, and one apple turnover. The apple feuilleté were reminders of a past time when friends would sit together to discuss philosophy, and I would enjoy an apple feuilleté with a glass of white wine. I am sure the dining room was last filled on St. Patty’s day, March 17th with convivial voices and the clink of cutlery on china.
I took precautions while out and about: a face mask, rubber gloves and the use of hand sanitizer upon return to my vehicle. It was eerie to see most businesses dark and yet there was a fair amount of traffic on the road. I realize that the country will open even though there is not enough testing resources, and insufficient ability for contact tracing. The opening up is uneven, each state under the direction of it’s governor. The governors are variously responsive either to the advice of medical experts, or to the winds of political opinion. As is all opinion, as long as you and I do not know anyone personally who has died of covid-19, we easily imagine that the threat is overblown, and would it not be great to get back to life-as-normal? We all naturally want what is easy, what brings us pleasure, even if it might kill us or a family member, which we just cannot imagine. And so it goes.
In the New York Times this morning was an opinion article that expresses my sense of things. Charlie Warzel writes about the price we Americans are willing to pay for freedom. You
can read the article HERE.
The President has begun to disband the coronavirus task force. The Vice President, acting as the President’s mouth piece said that tremendous progress has been made so the taskforce will be disbanded. That means that we will shortly have no voices of medicine and science to offset the happy-talk, the prevarication that the president offers day to day. The evidence shows that the outbreak still rages across the country. We are going to have to become accustomed to a lot of death.
I walked around the yard yesterday in a chill rain. The new growth of spring seemed so fresh in the drops of rainwater. Here are some photos that I took.
To conclude for today I offer this song by The Eagles. It brings to mind all of the places where I’ve met with friends for significant conversation, words which certainly changed my life, and perhaps that of the world in some small ways. A lot of music was part of those scenes as well. Nothing lasts forever. That is the given. The lyric of Sad Café says what I’d like to say. And yes, there are holy places.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ItohfeqfGNU
By The Eagles
Out in the shiny night, the rain
Was softly falling
The tracks that ran down the boulevard had
All been washed away
Out of the silver light, the past came softly calling
And I remember the times we spent
Inside the Sad Cafe
Oh, it seemed like a holy place
Protected by amazing grace
And we would sing right out loud, the
Things we could not say
We thought we could change this world
With words like “love” and “freedom”
We were part of the lonely crowd
Inside the Sad Cafe
Oh, expecting to fly
We would meet on that beautiful shore in the sweet by and by
Some of their dreams came true
Some just passed away
And some of them stayed behind
Inside the Sad Cafe
The clouds rolled in and hid that shore
Now that Glory Train, it don’t stop here no more
Now I look at the years gone by
And wonder at the powers that be
I don’t know why fortune smiles on some
And lets the rest go free
Maybe the time has drawn the faces I recall
But things in this life change very slowly
If they ever change at all
No use in asking why
It just turned out that way
So meet me at midnight baby
Inside the Sad Cafe
Why don’t you meet me at midnight, babe
Inside the Sad Cafe
Lyrics written by Don Henley, Glenn Frey, Joe Walsh, and J. D. Souther