Solstice, 2020

 Solstice, 2020

Dear Ones,

    2020, the year that nothing happened.   (the end.)

Love, B


    (JK) Well, last year’s dumpster fire spread to a worldwide conflagration on us, due to tinder we neglected to rake up, apparently.  Hard to know where to start…
    The Electoral College, a vestige of the compromises that slavery, and rural vs urban enmity imposed on our new Constitution at the founding of the republic, has voted according to the electorate’s will, and elected Joe Biden and Kamala Harris, to the offices of President and Vice-President.  The current occupant, soon to be a trespasser, refuses to acknowledge or admit his electoral loss.  Legions of really bad lawyers have asserted fraud without evidence, and have filed a score and more of lawsuits, all tossed out for lack of evidence and lack of standing.  Nevertheless, they persist.  Ever more loudly and stridently, as the Constitutional process grinds on, they continue to sow doubt among their partisans, and seek to inspire violence as the next resort, in an effort to nullify election, and the expressed will of the people.  They seek a coup d'état.  There have been some scary moments, as we waited to see if officials, sworn to defend and protect the Constitution, would do their sworn duty, or choose party over country, and violate their oaths.  Some did their duty at key moments, and rescued the Republic from self-destruction.  But dozens, nay hundreds, were derelict, negligent, and malicious in their pursuit of power.  We should have finished this conversation six weeks ago, and not be hanging on tenterhooks, afraid, hoping for our system to function as designed.  More than a hundred Congresspersons signed on to an amicus brief in Texas vs. various swing states, asking the Supreme Court to throw out their election results, and disenfranchise millions of voters.  The Supremes declined to intervene, as, indeed, Texas has no standing, no say, in how the other states regulate their elections. This level of sedition against the Constitution and the Republic has not happened since the Civil War, and some hotheads propose to repeat that disaster.  We HAD that conversation 160 years ago, at a cost of the blood of a generation, and untold treasure wasted. Aspire to that path, and you will again be on the wrong side of History.  
    Meanwhile, we are dying in droves, from Corona Virus/Covid-19.  The very first known case in the US walked into an ER just 30 miles south of ours, on January 19.  In less than one year, we are on track to surpass the Civil War (498k) and WWII (420k) battle deaths. Turns out, it is spread by aerosols, human to human, by cough, by sneeze, by singing sacred hymns in church.  Who knew?? Well, we knew this early-on, but our Dear Leader concealed these facts, so as not to tank the economy and lose the election. Wearing masks was derided as weak, wussy behavior, politicized as a wedge between the lib-tards and the faithful patriots.  And so today, hospitals everywhere are full to overflowing, ICUs are full with row upon row of sedated, intubated, ventilated people, lying ass-up, because their oxygen is better that way.  No visitors are allowed, so the ones who do die, die alone, with only strangers, our heroic nurses, there to hold their hands.  It is so, so sad.  Especially because we reckon half of these deaths were preventable.  ER work has become dangerous, especially for old fossils like me.  We spend the shift full time in N95 masks and fogged up goggles, draining snot candles from our noses, and rebreathing our own bad coffee-breath, to remind us we still live.  For known cases, we have positive pressure helmets, with a cooling breeze of HEPA filtered air, and waterproof gowns. This get-up requires a 5-minute donning-in, and 5-minute doffing-out procedure between interactions.  Hold your breath, I will be there soon!  The breeze is nicer than the N-95, but you still sweat your balls off in the waterproof gown, and your armpit sweat rings become overlapping circles on your chest and back, Venn diagrams of discomfort. And then you chill like a feverin’ toddler when you take that wet mess off.  On the plus side, this fear of contagion has all but cured me of nose picking, eye rubbing, and licking a finger to turn a page.  I stay the hell out of my face, just generally.
    The vaccine is out this week, and that may finally get us around the corner, and back to a normal world. This is President Trump’s single crowning achievement, and credit where credit is due.  However, the final details of distribution and storage and administration have been abandoned to the states, without any monetary support.  The Clown-King has abdicated in all ways, except formally, and spends most days playing golf, and most nights tweeting about the stolen election. He has managed to scam $200 million from his faithful base, in appeals for donor-support to “Stop the Steal.”  Irony is not their strong suit. Congress is equally shame and blame-worthy, holding up funds to support the distribution, over petty squabbles about unemployment and corporate liability. So at the advent of a viable vaccine, we have 16 million documented cases, and 300,000 dead.  Let us imagine that the documented cases are really only 1/5 of actual cases, because of our anemic and late developing testing regime, but if that is close to correct, one in 5 of us has been infected.  We are still a LONG way from herd immunity.  I love that term.  It does not mean that we must behave like dumb-ass cattle to achieve immunity. That path has been advocated by some, but it would be a painful, doleful path indeed.  Aggressive testing, quarantine, social isolation, masking and social distancing remain the keys to control.  Isolation comes at a cost, of course, in lost jobs, economic damage, fear and frustration.  Domestic abuse is at an all time high, to the point that you cannot go to Wal*Mart and find a white ribbed cotton tank top.
    We are hunkered down, being Quaranteenagers as much as possible, while I still work.  I continue to test negative, and the end of work is in sight. My main goal is not to bring the damned pestilence home, kill us both, and suffer having my resentful kids flush my ashes down the toilet for having done so. So I slink in the garage side-door after each shift, strip and put my scrubs in the wash, shower and hit the sack. But every sniffle and sneeze, every cough, feels for a moment like it might be the Icy Hand o’ Death. Very few shifts remain after all, and I ain’t dead yet, so whatever I am doing has worked so far.  My previously announced retirement party on March 6 will likely not happen as planned, but by June 7 or so, I should be done, except for occasional part time work.  I still will have a PARTY! The when of that is unclear…
    The telling of the year would not be complete without recounting our boat saga.  At the prospect of retiring with a bucket list full of cruising dreams, including the Inside Passage to Alaska, we pondered the purchase of a boat, suitable to the task.  It had to be large enough to spend extended time, with a guest couple sometimes, and small enough to be handled by two.  It is the very definition of social distancing.  We looked at lots of boat porn, looked at some actual boats in our area, and finally settled on a slightly newer version of the same old boat we previously had.  After some hard bargaining, we bought a ’94 Grand Banks 49, now named “Tortuga.”  We were aware of some deferred maintenance issues, and unaware of some others, but tens of thousands of dollars later, we are close to ready. If the Canadian border opens again this spring, we can take the entire summer, and make our way at a leisurely pace, exploring as many bays and anchorages as we can,  Feeling Cute…IDK…might go to Alaska.
    The kids are well, all employed, and nobody ill to date. Ima leave it at that this year.
    Kathryn has developed a new-found love for constitutional law, given current events, but has devolved into shouting curses at her iPad, as she watches streaming news and commentary.  And she knits, which is also an occasion to shout out curses, apparently.  We are living the low-carb dream, using intermittent fasting to control our weight, and exercising fairly regularly, including a sauna.  We are all about the benefits of heat-shock protein and the “dynorphin low”, not the “endorphin high.”
    I  have pretty much told my side of the story.  My year began with the best birthday card ever—my Medicare card!  Just for good measure, I forgot my glasses for the renewal of my driver’s license, and passed the vision test without them, so I am no longer required to wear glasses while driving. (That pissed HER off, for sure.) I am easing my way into retirement with part time work beginning this past November.   I am working 12-14 nights in stretches, straddling the end of one month and the beginning of the next.  Then I have 6 glorious weeks off, during which time I have been doing boat chores, fixing things around the house, exercising, and cooking.  The last of these scheduled stretches will be end May-beginning June, leaving the summer off completely for cruising.  I will miss work and more particularly my co-workers. I will keep my license and my hospital affiliation,  but I do want to stop this full time nights craziness, while I am still near the top of my game, before I dodder and drool too much, and people begin to whisper behind my back.
    Work HAS been scary.  People come in very sick, and sometimes die, separated from loved ones.  People who deny any symptoms come in for other routine concerns, cough through the interview, then test positive. (Doh!)  People come in wearing endearing Partisan Political Message tee shirts and refuse to mask.  People drag themselves in with life threatening problems at the last possible moment, for fear of Covid. It has been a grim shit-show since the start. I must applaud the real heroes, the nurses, the respiratory therapists, the lab techs, and the housekeeping people, slogging through this mess day in day out.  I am usually in and out, in limited contact with the patients by comparison. The real exposure risks are the other players, and I am reminded of this every day.  For all their sakes, the vaccine can’t come soon enough.
    I pause to note the passing of notables, a bumper crop this year.  Giants have fallen, in Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and John Lewis. There were too many actors to name, including Sean Connery, Buck Henry, Terry Jones of Monty Python, Kirk Douglas, Diana Rigg, Max von Sydow, Brian Dennehy, Ian Holm, Wilford Brimley, and Chadwick Boseman. Musicians included John Prine, Eddie Van Halen, Charlies Daniels and Pride, Little Richard, Kenny Rogers, Helen Reddy, Johnny Nash, Spencer Davis, and Bill Withers.(ain’t no sunshine since he’s gone)  Sportin’ lifers include Tom Seaver, Whitey Ford, Bob Gibson, Don Larson, and Joe Morgan of the Big Red Machine of my youth. Also we can’t leave out Don Shula, Rafer Johnson (who helped subdue Sirhan Sirhan after the murder of RFK), Kobe Bryant, John Thompson, and Argentine soccer phenom Maradona.  Authors John le Carre, Mary Higgins Clark, Clive Cussler, and Gail Sheehy have dropped their last drafts.  Herman Cain died of a hoax, Corporate Raider Jack Welch has ceased to raid.  I especially will miss Jim Lehrer and Hugh Downs, once voices of reason in the news. (remember those?)
    Well, faithful fans and fervid detractors all, if you have soldiered this far, take heart.  This will end.  This letter, yes, and also the fever dream of the last few years.  For those queasy about my apparent political bias, I assure you, I ain’t woke, and never will be.  I detest ideologic purists who scorn those not as pure as they, and demand the center fall on their swords for shame.  I detest cancel culture.  I detest University safe spaces, and the loss of free speech, when that speech just doesn’t hew to the party line. (that applies from the Right and the Left equally.)  I wish for, long for, a rough and robust commons, a debate where people of different views speak their mind without fear, and without intimidation, and without scorn,  and people change their minds as they learn new things, see new points of view.  We don’t live in that place anymore, but we can strive to, and get there again.  Within social media and the isolated bubbles, the echo chambers we now inhabit, we talk talk talk,  but never listen, never hear.  I do not know the answer, except to encourage everyone to read news across the spectrum, not just your brand. Turn off your Twitter feed, and do not contribute to the meaningless stream of bullshit.  If my not being “woke” disturbs you, reread the above and try again. If you are offended, I am counting on you to get over it.  No offense intended, but your response to sincere discussion is your issue to deal with.  Free speech includes the right to be offended, and to offend.
    Draw together, good people.  Reject anger and fear as tools used against you by cynics who seek only power and money.  Defend against being herded and fleeced, against invitations to grovel in fear, distrust and hate.  You are all better than that, and we, collectively, are greater than the sum.  I wish you a better year, (THAT is aiming at a low goal) health, immunity, and prosperity.  The light will return, the Solstice will happen, as it does every year, with or without our intervention. We are not important to the rotation of the earth and the passage of years.  We need to find our place in the universe, and be happy there.   Mostly,  I wish you Peace.


                    Cheers,

                    Bob

P.S   I didn't even mention Murder Hornets...