The COVID Chronicle, May 16-31, 2020

 

May 16 [Saturday]

I went for a bicycle ride today and, Holy Toledo, I needed this. It helped to break up the groundhog day repetition [a reference to the Groundhog Day movie starring Bill Murray] and provide a dose of mental relief. A 10-mile round trip through San Dimas to the 99 Cent Store to buy junk food, nonsense and one-gallon bags to be used for EBay shipments. I enjoyed the feeling of liberation and will imbibe more regularly of bicycle rides. Maybe even look for an alternate destination than the discount mart.

 

May 17 [Sunday] 

[The boy]’s first year at Cal State Fullerton concluded two weeks ago and he’s on summer break! Except only, there really isn’t any summer break because of Shelter In Place. He’s clearly not getting a job this summer, not that it was on his to-do list, and volunteer opportunities with the local parks look to be shut out. So, he knuckled under and decided to take an online summer school course, the History of Rock and Roll. It counts toward his degree and will occupy him three days per week through the end of June. [Get a load, the guy, on the strength of his high school AP classes and the scores he attained on the AP exams is on pace to graduate in two more years! That’s my dad brag.]

 

May 20 [Wednesday] 

Work had tentatively scheduled ‘strictly virtual’ termination date for the end of May. Today we were told we are ‘strictly virtual’ until further notice! We were also advised that release would not be expected before 4

 

May 23 [Saturday] 

I visited the Safehouse this morning, widely accepted moniker for my parents’ abode. I hadn’t seen my people in 2.5 months! This is my longest gap in a visual sighting of my people in years. Really, but I still recognized them. Pre-Covid we’re typically at the Safehouse every other week, [my brother’s] team, too, for Sunday supper. But Shelter In Place ended that. March 7 was the last Safehouse supper. 

They’re only 30 miles away and I requested permission from mom if I could come by to say hello today. Granted. We socially distanced, stayed outside and wore masks. I did not enter the home and did not engage any proffered snacks. I did, though, reach into the garage refrigerator for a flavored mineral water. A two-hour visit followed by me getting tacos and a strawberry milkshake at Jack-In-the-Sack for the drive home.

         I’m holed up in San Dimas with the four of us, and I say that affectionately. It’s helpful to have a few people with whom to interact. Mom and dad have only each other. I wanted to be able to provide some variety to their day. I feel sorry for people quarantined by themselves during Covid. That’s got to be a rough challenge mentally toiling with and against only oneself.

 

May 26 [Tuesday]

I take the first of my solo post-supper walks this evening. It had been me and [my daughter], sometimes Wife Klem joined us in the evenings, but she doesn’t like the heat, my daughter. I want her to get out of the house, plus I like alone-time with my kids. She’s 15 and not yet eligible for [the boy]’s age-eligible opt-out, so we negotiated. If it is 75F or hotter she is not required to walk. Instead, she’ll read for 30 minutes. I’d prefer her to spend time outside, and with me, but I don’t want to engender an upset [monkey] unnecessarily. So we negotiated and we’re both agreeable. I like having [my daughter] out with me, but not if she’s going to be a glum chum.

I take the post-meal walks as my workday decompression. It’s often necessary and I feel much relieved upon my return home. Then, I’m free to conduct my stretching routine, have an evening snack, then glide smoothly into an evening on the patio to email, read and listen to music on Spotify. I’m vastly enjoying my peaceful evenings on the patio!

 

-klem

 

The Graduate

Isla Vista, California [Summer 1990]

It was the straw that would break the proverbial camel’s back, as the saying goes. The last straw, but it would not be the final one.

It was the morning of day three, his new living arrangement. He graduated from college mere weeks before and had not yet won employment. Not from lack of effort, he just had not yet cobbled together success. He had awakened with the intent to skateboard to the university’s on-campus Career Center and continue searching for post-college employment. A two-mile skate from the apartment, an exhilarating way to start the day. But first, a sandwich to sustain himself for his journey, expected to be a few hours. Lunch supplies, purchased the day before, however, were not in the refrigerator where they’d been placed, but on the kitchen floor along with every shelf rack that had been in the fridge. In their place was one thing, a keg of beer in a state of partial consumption. A remnant from the prior evening’s debauching.

A keg of beer. At 23 years old he understood the esteem enjoyed by the precious carbonated barley drink and was, by this age, well acquainted. It was entirely natural, of course, if the keg has contents you do what can be done to preserve it. But the cold cuts, cheese and bread. What, there wasn’t room in the fridge for it to cohabitate with the keg? Answer was, yes, there was room. The fact was, his roommates were buttholes.

He moved in to this apartment unit at the last minute with dudes unknown. The prior lease expired and he needed another hovel to call temporary home. Last minute because he’d been hoping to secure a job cleanly coinciding with his graduation date, it didn’t happen. The night before moving in he’d been at a party, a friend introduced him to another friend. This friend, once removed, had a room to sublet for the summer. There’d be four people in the two-bedroom apartment unit, he’d be one of those four, and he wouldn’t meet them until the next day. There was no time for continued looking. He accepted the sublet. 

On the morning of that first day the four strangers sat in the living room talking. This was their first acquainting. It was proposed they get a keg and get to know each other. Seemed possibly excessive, a whole keg, but determined to give them an honest effort, he consented. That evening they imbibed.

The next morning, day two, one of the roommates, wanting to build on yesterday’s momentum, proposed, “Today, let’s get another keg . . . and let’s have a band.” It was this exchange that crystallized the dynamics of this apartment unit. Sure, I know, only two days, but clearly this incipient routine would not foster a productive summer. He would need to step up his game in the job hunt to extricate himself from the mess to which he had willfully submitted.

We return to day three, the occurrence from the opening sequence. He stood with skateboard in hand and backpack, prepared to make his sandwich. Opening the refrigerator he saw only the keg. The buttholes were scattered about the apartment in varying degrees of sleepful decrepitude. His sandwich fixings on the floor trampled by innumerable drunken feet.

He exited the apartment with resolve. His mind had been made up with a crisply defined mental line of demarcation between himself and these people with whom he shared an address. That was the last straw, day three. Sadly for our waif, additional straws would yet follow.

[1] There was the laxative-prank incident. Tainted tacos were issued to him, under the guise of a peace offering, and naively consumed. They would take effect while on a bowling outing with a chum. The belly cramps were uncomfortable, not nearly as bad as he’d expect from a belly defiled by an overdose of laxatives, but undeniably crummy. He’d heard of ex-lax pranks, this was his first experience.

[2] There was the incident where police burst into the apartment at 2:00 am looking for one of the roommates. While bundled up asleep in bed, two police officers came into his room, turned on the light and started asking questions about said roommate. The degenerate had apparently gotten into a physical altercation with a neighbor and made threats. It was this moment he realized how little he knew about these people.

“Do you know your roommate’s name,” asked one of the officers.

“Is it Levy,” he replied by way of question.

“We’re asking you,” came the volley.

“I think it’s Levy,” he said without confidence.

“We have reason to believe it’s not Levy. Don’t you know who your roommates are,” the officer said before leaving.

No, he didn’t know who his roommates were, at least not beyond their well-earned sordid character. He lay there in bed thinking, the lights having been left on. 

[3] There was the regrettable ‘wet the bed’ episode. His roommate got drunk, passed out, and the remaining conscious roommates put him in the wrong bed. The bed wetter had a rickety bunk configuration with a desk underneath. Too much effort to lift or toss the drunkard into his own bed, so he was laid down unto his roommate’s, our narrator’s bed. Drunkard wet the bed, later awoke and made no reference to having made water. There was no fess up, apology or wash the bedding as act of conciliation.

But back to evening two, “Today, let’s get another keg . . . and let’s have a band.” The keg and band were in full force as the sun went down. Before long the police arrived due to the excessive noise. Trying to be responsible, our guy put his cup of beer on the sidewalk to receive the police officers. [He knew this much of the law. Don’t walk in the street with an open beer. Approach with at least that much respect.] Advising them that he lived there, the officers said it was too loud and too late. These points were inarguable, so he took a different approach. Don’t fight a futile effort, make an ask. 

“Officers, is it OK if the band plays one more song?”

“OK, one more,” relented one of the officers hoping for a peaceful end.

Walking back to the party, he retrieved his beer and said, “We’re OK for one more song. Play one more.” Predictably, the bevy of buttholes knew no restraint.

“Hey, they said one more song. Don’t end it, keep the song going,” said one. And so went the incantation.

There were no social graces with these ones. With defeat assured, he dumped his beer on the front lawn and skated away. He didn’t need to witness the befouling of the night to know how it would end.

Extraction

He finally managed to attain post-college employment. A major relief on multiple fronts. It was an absolute victory advancing into this stage of life, on the cusp of self-sufficiency. His life was finally to move forward after five college years building the bridge to a paycheck. But the most immediate triumph was moving out of his filth-laden hovel and leaving the degenerates behind.

First order of events was the departure from this place. For an added degree of fun he wanted to leave with no warning to the roommates. Simply that he would abruptly cease to live there.

He had been planning his get away for more than a week. Knowing he’d eventually get a job he’d been incrementally stashing possessions at the apartments of local friends. He would return for his gear when he could, expected to be shortly.

The day had finally arrived. After a number of stashing trips  his on-site possessions were minimal and he was well honed for a quick get-away. He’d run the sequence over in his head so many times that his movements would be well practiced. Then, as crisp as that, the moment arrived.

“Hey, you guys want to watch the Baseball All-Star Game today? It starts in 20 minutes,” asked one of the roommates excluding the waif, who by this time was understood to be not included without the need to state as much. 

“That sounds cool. Let’s get some sandwiches and beers,” said a second.

With no further deliberation they all arose, including the waif. The three roommates walked out the front door to get their game-watching grub. Our guy went directly to his room, grabbed his backpack, valise, an armload of remaining clothes and the skateboard, his trusty transport throughout college. Deposited into his car and returned for the 2^nd of three loads, as played out in his head. He dropped his two shirts from the closet onto his mattress, pulled off all the bedding in one swift unkempt move, folded it in half, then rolled the whole thing up and dropped that bundle into the front passenger seat. Last thing. The TV. 

This was 1990, there were no flat screen TVs. This aspect of his mental play-through had not been well conceived. This was a cathode tube boob tube. He couldn’t lift the thing alone without risking collapse or a hernia. He still had time before the roommates, but seeing them again would spoil the occasion. And just like that, his savior appeared in the form of his pal, an acquaintance really, Oz.

“Hey, how’s it going,” opened Oz with his typical grand smile.

“Oz, it’s great to see you, but I can’t talk now and I need your help. My roommates are buttholes and I’m moving out. I need to get my TV out before they return. Will you help me,” he asked.

His face transformed from happiness to determination as if accepting lead on a black ops mission.

“Let’s go,” he said, practically leading the way.

They entered the apartment, unhooked and unplugged, then lifted and deposited into the car. They exchanged brief, though sincere, good byes.

Our guy enjoyed that the roommates would return to a blank wall with no TV on which to watch the game. They’d then wake up the next day to find no electricity. 

Waif drove away with three stops on the itinerary. First was to pickup one of two possession stashes and cancel the electricity at his former apartment. Second, retrieve possession stash two of two and say good-bye to a few pals. The third and final stop was 103 miles to the south. He was going home, his parents’ home. A few days to gather himself before starting the next phase of life. Self-sufficiency awaited.

[This was my life 30 years ago this summer. Things have vastly improved since then. -klem]

The COVID Chronicle, May 1-15, 2020

May 5 [Tuesday] 

The Trump UBI [Universal Basic Income] money was received today. $2,900 for the four of us. This is the COVID Federal stimulus money to assist individuals to deal with the financial difficulties of lost jobs, diminished wages from reduced hours and continued expenses. I spent my portion of the Trump UBI [$1,200 for each adult, $500 for a minor] on subscriptions to the New York Times and The Washington Post. The thought process is that it might be good to follow along what the ‘enemy’ [liberals] are saying, plus I’d like to read their Business sections. The ‘Trump UBI’ moniker is mockingly applied because UBI was presidential candidate Andrew Yang’s anchor idea. The balance of my $1,200 will be allocated to a drywall removal project seeking out the structural issues with which the home is struggling.

May 10 [Sunday] 

Happy Mothers Day! This felt crummy. I’m only 30 miles away from the Safehouse [my parents’ home] but felt inclined to abide by the Shelter In Place protocol, so I didn’t see mom today. Actually, I even called on Thursday and Friday, both days asking if I could visit. Each time I was politely declined as a Covid precaution. So, we wrote a card, mailed it a few days ago. I called today to say the nice Mothers Day things, but it was a let down not seeing her in person today even though we’re close in proximity.

         Mothers Day in San Dimas was nice, though. We took a morning walk as a team, then I later walked to Vons, down the street, for a pre-packaged wrap of flowers. Dinner was a robust batch of Red Robin burgers. So tasty. After dinner I walked down the street across from Dead Grass Park [the grass was entirely dead two decades ago when we moved here and the name stuck, it looks nice now] with a backpack and hand-shovel. I dug up a small California Poppy flower, put it in a plastic bag, brought it home and planted it in the backyard on the slope. There’s got to be a hundred or more poppies down the street there, nobody will miss one little guy. [Wife Klem] admired the poppies this morning on our walk, their big white petals and yellow center. The decision was made for the Mothers Day heist.

[Postscript: The transplanted flower died within a few days. These flowers, as I later came to understand are offshoots from the roots of other poppies. These are not freestanding flowers. So, it was compromised when I dug it out. Sorry, poppy.]

May 12 [Tuesday] 

[My daughter] has been occupying a good deal of time each day split out three ways; Animal Crossing [a video game whose format is the Nintendo Switch and played on the TV in the family room], reading and playing piano. She enjoys the game consisting of an island, which she designs and oversees, which is occupied by six animated and personified animal characters. She’s designed houses for the six animal, island residents, plus herself and characters for [Wife Klem] and [the boy]. She can tell you more about it, this is what I’ve gleaned while doing my own tasks in the background. When not gaming she’s been commendably working her way through the summer reading list for her junior high school year this fall [she’s reading Nate Hawthorne’s Scarlet Letter and will read, later this summer, Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers, plus work her way through at least one of the Harry Potter books again]. Oh yes, also, she’s teaching herself piano! We have an electric piano and she’d taken piano lessons two years ago. But lately, she’s taken a sincere interest and has been practicing. She looks at piano lessons on her computer and has been playing, and doing it well, some classic songs that are easily recognizable. Progress is clearly being made and is audibly evidenced.

May 14 [Thursday] 

[The boy] left the premises today to assist [Wife Klem] at Lowe’s. She’s starting an aboveground garden in the backyard, tomatoes, peas and banana peppers, and needed an assist lugging around the bags of soil. But so, back to [the boy]. The guy didn’t leave the premises for all of April! No joke. He’s concerned about Corona, of course, and his overriding instincts for precaution have dominated. He’d been out in the backyard, but had not left the premises, not even to the mailbox, since late March. Six weeks without leaving the house. By the time he got halfway through April I was rooting for him to complete the month. He’d been rocking [Wife Klem]’s cardio machine several ties per week to beat back atrophy. When we got to May, though, he was still resisting. I was happy to see the guy don a mask this morning to hit Lowe’s for the soil lugging.

-klem

The COVID Chronicle, April 16-31, 2020

  

April 16 [Thursday] 

Face masks are no longer recommended in Los Angeles County, they are now REQUIRED when entering a store. I still think this is overblown, but I don the mask when making my routine rounds to Vons and the pharmacy-post office to mail my EBay sales. I think it is overreach but I comply by means of the plain white N95 disposable mask I had in the garage from some prior long-forgotten project.

 

April 17 [Friday]

The stock market had taken a massive dump in February due to worldwide COVID worries, illness raging and businesses closing. The stock market [NYSE] lost 34% from late February through March 23! Huge drop, worrisome to endure. We don’t get too hung up on these wild swings, [Wife Klem] and I, but look, I’m 52 years old and we’ve got a good chunk put away in the stock market [our 401K plus two Roth IRAs] intended to fund our retirement, a hopeful seven years away. It wasn’t easy shaking off that kind of fluctuation, but we stayed in the market and it’s bounced back 29% through April 17. Anyway, hope it steadies itself out. I don’t want to have to add years of work at the end to compensate for a diminished retirement fund.

 

April 18 [Saturday]

We’re more than four weeks into Shelter In Place and the Groundhog Day effect has become significant. Every day is largely the same, minus small variations from one workday to the next, but every day abides by the same routine. Well, today, a bulwark has been established against the Groundhog effect. We purchased Just Dance, a video game played on the Nintendo Switch. It’s viewed on the TV with music and participants dance [follow along], mimic, the dancing image of a person on the screen. [My daughter] and I, it turns out, are the only two participants, [the boy] and momma decline. My enthusiasm for a break from the daily routine is matched by a waning confidence in my knees’ ligaments.

[Postscript: Just Dance lasted for two weeks then dropped out of the routine.]

 

April 25 [Saturday] 

[Wife Klem] and I are of opposing positions regarding Covid and the precautionary protocols. I would like businesses to reopen, people can continue to socially distance and wear masks, and choose for themselves if they want to go out. This would allow some semblance of the economy to struggle forward, people start working again earning an income. She suggests that it’s too soon to reopen, there are still too many new cases of Corona. Shelter In Place should continue and the Federal government should issue a second wave of UBI checks. We respectfully disagree. I love [Wife Klem] and enjoy when she plays along with my silly requests of ‘Have you a Covid update for me?’ She’s immersed herself in Covid news and will rattle off the latest update.

         We are probably years away from knowing if the cure will end up being worse than the disease. I understand Corona kills predominantly old people. Those deaths are tragic and sad. Conversely, the loss of jobs, businesses going bankrupt and people going into debt [because they are currently no longer earning a paycheck] will cause years of life, in economic terms, to be lost on the back end of lives. Studies show that wealth is a strong indicator of life expectancy. So, the economic question to be resolved in coming years will be a comparison of what was worse? The lives lost from the virus or the ‘years of life’ lost due to the precautionary measures.

 

-klem

The COVID Chronicle: April 1-15, 2020

  

April 7 [Tuesday]

Work held early excitement those first couple weeks of Shelter In Place. It was very dramatic and so sudden. The excitement of working ‘strictly virtual,’ though, has evaporated. I’ll gladly make the best of this, working from the convenience of home donning shorts and a t-shirt. I’ve had to change up my work tactics and game plan a little bit. Pre-COVID had me at agents’ offices for 1.5-hour in-office training and marketing sessions. For purposes of retaining the attention of my agents and team members during ‘strictly virtual’ I’ve decreased the Skype training sessions to 45 minutes. If someone really digs the material I can easily extend the presentation beyond the scheduled 45 minutes. But attention span is more easily retained when in person. If this is my work struggle, grappling to retain attention, I’ll certainly choose this over some of the destruction that rages in the real world at present.

April 12 [Sunday]

We’ve been taking weekend morning walks, the four of us. [The four includes Ghost Dog, not the boy.] We’d like [the boy] to come with, but we’re allowing him freedom of choice because he’s not a minor. The guy chooses not to. We don’t bristle, we allow it to go. Heck, the guy’s not a child and we certainly don’t want him to feel like it, so we allow his autonomy hoping we can get him to occasionally concede and join us. Anyway, I enjoy starting the days like this. Get up early to read, then breakfast before the walk.

April 13 [Monday] 

Work had set a tentative 4/17 sunset date for our strictly virtual. I was hoping we’d be released for at least some incidental field work, but no. Today ‘strictly virtual’ was extended through the end of May! I’m feeling beaten down with statements and orders of governmental acquiescence to COVID. It’s important to open businesses and open the economy, that too will save lives, but there’s too much ‘shut down’ inertia. I was surprised at the extended ‘strictly virtual,’ but accepted it with disappointed resignation. Oh well, Flatten The Curve, goes the mantra.

April 14 [Tuesday]

As this Shelter In Place sluggishly progresses I am frustrated in the sense of losing time that won’t be productive. [The struggle to turn Dead Time into Alive Time, as aptly vocalized by TheDailyStoic.com, a daily email to which I subscribe.] The frustration is the prospect of the Shelter In Place restrictions eventually being lifted and I would find myself in no more a forward position than when this started in mid-March. I must find a way to advance my own productivity, not just the pages on the calendar. So, I took up the challenge to turn Dead Time into Alive Time.

         My Alive Time challenge is to peruse the CA Contractors State License Board website looking for local general contractors who are licensed and have a Work Comp policy in force. This will allow me to discern business-owners operating with diligence. I want to find a contractor to tear out the ceiling-drywall in our family room so that we may find the house’s structural problem hidden within. [This project needs further explanation but this is not the place for it.] I will email those who qualify by these standards and await their email reply. At the end of Shelter In Place I want to have a few contractors chosen with whom to meet.

April 15 [Wednesday] 

The nature of my work keeps me tuned to the goings on of local business environments. Possibly over aware to being hypersensitive, but I am of the opinion that the government-induced COVID restrictions have set in place a force more destructive than the virus itself. I am sympathetic to business owners who are trying to stay financially afloat even though they have been forced to close their business. These closures, of course, causing millions of employees to, subsequently, go without pay.

         With this upwelling of inchoate tragic sentiment I find myself both thankful and guilty. As a family the four of us are going to be OK. I’m thankful that my paycheck will continue to keep us secure and healthy, also guilty because we are safe in this respect while so many others grapple with huge question marks. Oh well, we move forward.

-klem

The COVID Chronicle: March 16–31, 2020

[Chronicled for posterity.]

March 16 [Monday morning] 

My last day of freedom to roam the wilds was this morning. I conducted a field foray for work into Los Angeles and West Hollywood. A local insurance agent and I took a drive to review four large Apartment building prospects. The agent was hoping to insure them, I was present to confirm eligibility and provide binding authority, pending eligibility. We’d known each other for more than ten years in a friendly work capacity and got along very well, it was enjoyable company. We met the owner at the first location, he wore a mask, the agent and I did not. Nobody shook hands.

The drive there should have taken well over an hour, closer to two even. But traffic was surprisingly light and we got there in just over an hour. The return drive was also surprisingly light and driving through the streets of Los Angeles were rather pleasant due to the novelty of light traffic.

Shortly after noon I received a call from Wife Klem while we were on our drive back to Claremont, a 10-minute drive from San Dimas. She was advising of Shelter In Place having been decreed and the importance of us returning home pronto. We did so with no further adieu. So it began, the Shelter In Place order. The agent was later successful in writing all four of those Apartment policies!

March 16 [Monday afternoon] 

A work email to me and my field colleagues has advised that we are to work strictly virtual until the end of March. My initial impression was disbelief mixed with naïve enthusiasm for a paid stay-cation for the next few weeks. My colleagues and I had been working remotely since 2014, from our homes, but not like this, virtually. Pre-COVID I had appointments throughout the week at local agents’ offices to conduct training and marketing sessions for the commercial products. But this, the strictly virtual instructions, I enjoyed the staying home, not having to drive to meetings or dress up in trousers and wingtips. My meetings will be conducted virtually via Skype instead of live one-on-one in their offices. This took some initial retooling. Content was changed to make it more visually appealing [showing screens and data virtually instead of being there live talking and conveying ideas], also shortened the sessions to 45-minutes instead of 1:30 hours in agent’s offices.

         There was plenty of work to do, especially with questions related to policies regarding possible coverage to pay for COVID-related losses. I was of the mind that this strictly virtual work was overreaching for safety, but I would gladly comply. 

March 25 [Wednesday] 

My field colleagues and I received updated work instructions extending our ‘strictly virtual’ capacity through April 15. I was completely naïve on this and it caught me by surprise. Oh no, this is no stay-cation, this is serious! Sure, I was well aware of Wuhan, China and the deaths in Italy, but come on, the shutting down of the world’s economy? A mental shift occurred in my head, maybe this won’t end soon. The business closures, economic devastation and job losses were just now at the beginning. Businesses had temporarily closed in mid-March, but this no longer had a temporary feel to it and business closures sparked off in thick rolling waves with hopes of opening soon seeming to have been dashed. Yes, I understand, death rages due to COVID, but what of the life wreckage starting to accumulate for the living, those who would live beyond this.

I would conduct my work tasks to the best of my ability, of course, and this would be the least of my concerns. We would personally socially distance, limit, if not entirely cut-off, contact with those outside our home. Dinners every other week with my parents and brother’s family are discontinued until further notice. Also, big news, Tom Hanks and his wife are laid up in Australia with COVID.

March 27 [Friday]

Shelter In Place is wreaking havoc unto the lives of millions. [The boy], though, thrives! He’d been living in the dorms at Cal State Fullerton, college life and dining at the campus gastropods did not agree with him. Well, he was sent home in late February due to the closing of the dorms and campus. He will complete the balance of the semester taking classes online from the comforts of his bedroom, much to his preference. His mornings and afternoons are spent with classes and studying, the evenings and night often find him video gaming virtually with his pals. I know there’s a mess being stirred up around the world, but it’s a comfort to hear my guy giggling and laughing behind closed doors as he whiles away the evenings with his friends in his spare time.

         [My daughter], meanwhile, is not as keen on Shelter In Place as her brother. She had been enjoying her sophomore year in high school and the camaraderie of her Dive Team teammates. Going from a busy schedule of practice five evenings per week to being in lock-down every day and night with one’s parents is a drastic change. She’s making the best of it but understandably would prefer interaction on a larger scale.

-klem

COVID-19, In the Beginning

So It Begins [as documented on 6/1/2020]:

This is a few months late, but I’m finally resolved to document my sentiments about COVID-19, Shelter In Place quarantine, its tragedies and related inconveniences. The Coronavirus has been called a 100-year pandemic, comparing, of course, to the Spanish Flu of 1918. If so, per’aps this narrative, to be continued into the undecided future, much like the virus itself, may be of personal interest to reflect upon some day. My thoughts as documented throughout the ordeal of pandemic follow.

March 13, 2020 [Friday evening] [The following is a transcript from my voice recording made while walking the dog on the evening of March 13. I was riled up after hearing of the COVID precautions and school closures. This is what I off-gassed to myself to preserve for posterity. I was fired up.]

         “March 13, 2020. It’s Friday the 13^th. So we have a bunch of Coronavirus panic going on. A bunch of businesses closing down, Disneyland. [Work] hasn’t shut everything down but we are being encouraged to work virtually where possible. Talk of the government giving a UBI [Universal Basic Income], a monetary stipend, to the citizens. But this whole thing, I think it’s overblown, it’s a panic. I don’t like the government causing the collapse of the economy, and then at the same time calling itself a savior by giving money, a UBI. We will see six months or a year from now we’ll have a better idea is this really a panic causing the depression, a global economy being shut down. Or are we really going to lose millions of people to this thing, in which case it would not have been panic, it would not have been over reaction, it would have been appropriate steps. And my feeling, government provide information and then let people make their own decisions. Infants and old people, they’re most at risk, they maybe sequester themselves to their home confines, but to tell everyone that you can’t meet in groups of 250 or more, that’s a little overbearing. 

         And the part that really burns me, is all the businesses that are gong to be shut down and go bankrupt and have to close because of all the people being scared into not going out. You’ve got restaurants that are closing down, you’ve got Disneyland, and baseball and basketball games, meanwhile there are businesses, there are vendors who have paid for access to these arenas to stay in business, and if they’re shutting down then these businesses are going to shut down. So you end up with people losing their jobs, people losing their businesses and continuing that forward, losing their homes or their worth and then what do you have? You’ve got collapse.

How about the government just provide information, take some reasonable precautions and then get out of the way for people to make their own decisions. The government is making decisions to protect the people from themselves, but meanwhile the people have no protection from the government.

         Meanwhile, the hoarding has commenced. Toilet paper, apparently, is a tough commodity to come by, water. And quite frankly, with the water, that I don’t understand. We can still turn on the faucet, there’s water in there. As far as the toilet paper, that I don’t quite get. But I guess if we get in a pinch we could by some newspaper and treat it like we do Ghost Dog’s poop. 

         The stock market collapse is in full swing. That I’m not particularly concerned about. We’re not getting out of the market. We have moved some of our mutual funds into more conservative investments, but it’s still in the stock market. There’s going to be a swing. Most of our stock market money is in our 401K and our Roth IRAs, so we don’t need that for at least eight years. The market will certainly rebound by then, probably double by then. So that’s not a major issue.

         But sure, tough to see the paper money go away, or the value on paper go away. But, it’s going to rebound. These are the times where people can make money. If you panic and get out, then you lose, you lock in your losses. But if you stay the course and you don’t need the money right away then you’re fine. So, hey, if the collapse continues another few more months that would be a wonderful time to get deeper into the market. But we will see.

         [The boy] is going to be home for the next five weeks from Fullerton. That, I think, is a bit of a bummer. I want him to be on his own developing and accepting and coming to terms with his own independence, his budding adultness. I’m not really as keen on having him as a fifth-year high school student. I want him on his own, making decisions on his own, and realizing he can do life on his own without getting second opinions from his elders.

         And also, you know, [my daughter]’s going to be home for four weeks, three weeks. And I like having the kids home but the idea of teaching them to panic when something’s not right, I think that is a crummy message to send. I want them to be able to be presented with a situation, obtain some facts from a reasonable source and make a decision. I don’t want them to have to experience a mandated shut down.

         This is a teaching opportunity and I think those in charge are failing it. 

         OK, having that out of the way, but it’s fun with momma at home, and she’s talking about all the supplies she’s got and all the movies we can watch. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of panic happening out and I hope it is short lived, but right now it’s a Friday afternoon, I’m taking Ghost Dog for a walk and I’ll be home soon with momma and we’re going to be watching movies and having a fun evening. Maybe have a little hooch. So that, I can get on board with. But the idea of shutting the down of businesses and the economy, no, I’m not going to get on board with that.

         OK. Thank you for hearing me out.

         I am 52 at present, 52 years. Now, if I were in my late 60s or 70s, maybe I approach with a different philosophy. Maybe there are some additional restrictions under which I lead my day-to-day life. Maybe I’m not going to leave the house, maybe I’ll at that point avoid going to large crowds. But I think it’s important people have those decisions made for themselves rather than by the government.”

-klem