Showdown

  

The foothills were beautiful this time of year. Snow doffed the mountaintops. The lowlands, too, had taken much of the same, so heavy was the winter weather. He was a gnome of the meadows. He preferred the flat land, though the beauty of the mountains kept him within its vicinity.

 

He’d been out on a hunt. With his wife and two youngsters at home he had duties to fulfill and was eager to do so. He had geared up and departed home in good spirits the day before. He enjoyed the wilds, even an overnight in the cold winter. The challenge of a hunt and the victorious claim, when lucky enough to obtain it, and he usually was. He had bagged a turkey! A bountiful welcome he’d receive at home within the hour.

 

The bird was larger than he, heavier, too. But he was a strong one, this gnome, and had tethered the bird’s feet and was dragging it behind him. When your prey is larger than you are the transport options after the hunt are limited. That’s when a serious situation presented itself.

 

Rumors amongst his colleagues did abound of this troublesome quadrant. He’d usually strayed wide, but was anxious to get home before dark and thought it worth taking the short cut. The cat that now stood before him at 20 feet changed his mind. But it was too late to backtrack. The answer now would be forward and it would be contested. Thoughts of family at home raced through his head. What would be their fate should he fail to return. Such thoughts were not helpful and were suppressed to make room for more practical machinations.

 

The gnome, not a tall fellow, even by gnome standards, stood 1’ 6”. His eyeballs were almost exactly at the same height with those yellow sinister orbs belonging to his feline foe. He quickly did some mental calculations. If this were a typical house cat this would be no more hassle than brushing off the unwanted attention of a mouse. House cats with their over confidence, lack of strategic capacity and comfortable bulk from too much lap sitting and treats. This cat, however, this one was not of that ilk. He could tell by the way it moved, clearly doing it’s own calculations from where it stood, quiet confidence and practiced know-how. A worthy opponent, but hopefully not too worthy. If the gnome were to survive this encounter, he’d need to be on his game.

 

The cat’s tail flicked back and forth mischievously. This told the gnome all he needed. This encounter would not be noted by truce or agreement, but decisive action.

 

Without breaking eye contact he dropped the rope from which the turkey was attached. He furtively reached behind his back with his right hand for an arrow. His quiver skillfully placed for just such trained hand movement and accessibility. The bow was already in his left. ‘From this distance I’d have time for only a single shot. Even then, with the furry coat it may not even penetrate far enough to have an effect.’

 

Without having time to complete his thought the cat made the first move. It was rapid and confident, two steps and one mighty leap. The gnome, a well-trained hunter having accumulated years of experience had learned to remain calm when circumstances rendered him the hunted.

 

He fired off the arrow at the cat’s underbelly. Without waiting to see if the arrow would penetrate the thick furry belly, his instincts taking over, he tossed the bow aside, took two steps forward to put himself directly into the cat’s landing spot. He had just time enough to pull the blade from his belt. With two hands he held the point directly out and up waiting for gravity to do the hard work. The force of the landing was like a lightning bolt. He was knocked flat on his back and hit his head on the hard, icy ground. All went dark.

 

He didn’t know how long he’d been out. He was very warm and had difficulty breathing as if there was a weight on him. He slowly came to recall his situation. He pushed and rolled out from under the cat. He was groggy and his pantaloons were covered in prodigious amounts of blood. He stood, feeling around briefly for injuries. Feeling none, counting his blessings, he stood up tall, all 1’ 6” tall. Having lost his cap in the melee he felt a chill on his balding head. The cat’s eyes open, death-leaking vocalizations emanating from its mouth. The pads of its front paws were slightly opening and closing out of synch, a waning death tic. It was breathing, but that wouldn’t last. There remained no fight in this valiant beast. He reached underneath, pulled out his pointy hat, unflattened it best he could and put it back on his head.

 

With one swift swing of his axe the tail was severed. The cat vocalized its pain, but there was no retribution, its fight had gone out. Still twitching he tucked it into his tunic, a plaything for the little ones.

 

He gathered his gear and resumed walking. There had been rumors of many gnome colleagues being lost to this area. He proudly thought the source of those tales of the missing had been extinguished. He looked at the cat as he walked passed, but did not bother looking back once beyond. It was dark now and family awaited.

 

 

[Inspired by illustrations by Jakub Rozalski, ‘Competitors’ and ‘Furry Demon.’ (https://twitter.com/mr_werewolf_art/status/868455942714785792?s=20)]

-klem

The COVID Chronicle, July 16-31, 2020

 

July 18 [Saturday]

I visited the Safehouse [my parents’ home] today. Just me, not my other three constituents in San Dimas, to keep the social distancing simpler, plus I’m digging in with ancestry questions. I want to learn more about my predecessors and took notes. We lunched outside by the pool, eventually switching to the west end of the yard for the afternoon shade. No hugs upon departure, as would have been protocol pre-Covid. My dad had a large roll of plastic and offered to unsheathe a large piece and hug with this protective shield. I declined today, but as this continues months into the future that may start looking acceptable.

 

July 19 [Sunday] 

Three of us [not (the boy)] went to two gardens in Pasadena this morning! One was a nicely shaded Japanese garden, then a sunny Mediterranean garden immediately across the street. The first garden had one-way pedestrian traffic to minimize human interaction and improve social distancing. [We also observed this one-way pedestrian traffic in Newport last weekend along the sidewalk bluffs overlooking the ocean.]

A fun morning topped off with Japanese pancakes at a Pasadena café. These cakes were small in radius, but much thicker, fluffier. Totally delicious. The Covid rules were that only one set of patrons could enter the store at a time. We stood in line outside while the preceding couple ordered, the subsequent patron awaited our egress. Masks, of course, did abound. Meals were brought out by the employees.

 

July 24 [Friday]

[My daughter] and grandma began writing letters to each other back in April. This exchanging of the written word has proven robust and frequent. Three months have passed and the letters still flow in both directions, often twice weekly. I don’t know what these two sweet peas are gabbing about, but it’s not waning. And I like it.

 

July 27 [Monday]

The newspapers to which I subscribe, New York Times and Washington Post, have beaten me down. I had to resort to subscribing to a third paper, the Wall Street Journal. It’s important to stay informed and get different perspectives, but if the messages too consistently carry the same tint, then they lack the balance I seek. Reading the New York Times and Washington Post through their steep tilt has taken its toll. I heard the WSJ provides a more balanced milieu, so a subscription has been tendered [despite lacking a Sunday Comics page!]. I will consume the three and digest a broader perspective.

 

July 28 [Tuesday]

We’re four months into Shelter In Place and the kids remain functional and mostly in good spirits. [The boy] bought a collection of King Crimson music CDs on EBay and is holed up in his room listening. [My daughter], meanwhile, started a Minecraft volunteering gig virtually supervising grade school kids while they Minecraft together in a group of ten. She emerges from each session with smiles of having enjoyed the interaction with the youngsters. Certainly my opinion is biased, but I’m thinking [Wife Klem] and I are doing a sufficient job parenting, evidenced by they’re not sleeping in until two in the afternoon bogged down in a quarantine-induced quagmire of depression. It’s perfectly understandable that they might not be happy with our circumstances [(The boy), actually, seems to prefer quarantine], but it would not be understandable to give this time away without finding some way to be productive or constructive.

 

July 30 [Thursday]

We’re on vacation! Well, not really, but at least I’m not working for the next week and a half. Yes, I took vacation time, and we have a few day trips planned, but this won’t be an immersive vacation of summers past. Anyway, so, I must do something out of the regular routine everyday to denote this as a vacation day. My assignment today, I went for a bike ride, ten miles round trip to the discount store. I know, that’s lame, the discount store. I’ll work to improve destination sites for future cycle trips.

 

July 31 [Friday]

[The boy] went to [his friend]’s house this afternoon. Four of his chums from high school were meeting up for a session of Dungeons & Dragons. I was happy to see the guy break from quarantine and venture out. He and his pals had discussed safety precautions; they socially distanced, stayed outside and did not share snacks or drinks avoiding a cross-pollination exposure. He was really stressed before. Anxiety maybe? He was out for four hours. Returning he said he preferred to hang out with his pals virtually on Discord, a website or App or some sort, rather than live. Hope my recluse changes that opinion at some point.

 

-klem

The COVID Chronicle, July 1-15, 2020

 

July 1 [Wednesday]

Did the protests from weeks ago not result in a spike of Covid cases? There has certainly been a recent spike, as convincingly noted by the numbers, and the newspapers have been pushing the narrative that this is not from the protests. I’m skeptical they had no impact because it doesn’t pass the logic test. If people can meet in crowds of thousands without adverse effect it would seem counterintuitive that citizens cannot also meet in small groups or church gatherings at outdoor venues. All Southern California beaches are off limits for 4^thof July weekend due to risk of spreading the virus, yet protesters receive no such cautionary restrictions. The pushback by law abiding citizens is understandable and maintaining the present levels of quarantine will be in jeopardy in the face of such hypocrisy.

 

July 3 [Friday] 

We went to the Safehouse [my parents’ house] for lunch to see [my sister] and her beasts, her son and Ellie the dog. Governor Newsom would have smiled upon us with the acquiescence to his recommended safety precautions; outdoor engagement, social distance, masks and eating off separate pizza pies to avoid the virus cross pollination possibility. Fun visit with swimming, [my nephew], [my daughter] and the dog, plus a Snickers Bar cheesecake made by my sister! It was a good day. And I hope to have clearance to hug my people again at some approaching future date.

 

July 4 [Saturday]

[morning]

I got to thinking this morning on our family walk, a thought that occurred yesterday. When do I get to hug my people again? Am I waiting for a state sanction that it’s OK to hug family with whom one is not cohabitating? I already haven’t touched my parents since March. At this rate do I get to touch before the end of the year? Maybe it’s a different issue if we’re far away, beyond any reasonable expectation of a social visit, but I’m a 30-minute drive and I plan to visit and socially distance at least on a monthly basis. This is going to take some pondering.

 

[evening]

Our family tradition of root beer floats for 4^thof July held true. At least for me and [the boy], we scooped out some ice cream, topped them each with root beer and enjoyed. No crummy virus was going to stop this.

         And hey, how about the fireworks tonight! Not that I saw any, but my evening on the patio reading and emailing had a continuous aural backdrop like the fusillade of a distant, approaching assault. Really, I was outside for an hour and a half and there wasn’t ever a moment’s peace and quiet. I didn’t mind, I enjoyed the novelty. Seemed to be a lot more fireworks action than in prior years.

 

July 10 [Friday]

[morning]

[the boy] finally got a haircut, his first of the Covid era. [Wife Klem] cut him down in the backyard. I have mixed feelings, having enjoyed the shaggying up of my shaggy guy, but he’s gotta feel a few pounds lighter and much cooler. I also gave myself a haircut this weekend, but he’s more fun to talk about than I am. [Wife Klem] did a better job on the back of his neck than I did on my own. I’m OK cutting my hair, but the back of my neck is difficult.

 

[evening]

During Shelter In Place I’ve spent much time thinking of the Dead Time versus Alive Time challenge. Meaning, when Covid eventually concludes and life opens back up in some capacity, what constructive activity will I have to show for these passing months other than a calendar that moved ahead? I must disallow these months from being lost as Dead Time. So, as a head nod to the constructive, I decided to learn more about my people, my predecessors. I must improve upon the notes and their anecdotes documented to date. It’s important their details be preserved and passed forward to the next generation. The youngsters need to know how special their people are. Not to sound morbid, but without proper details their memories may become dilute with the passage of time.

 

July 11 [Saturday]

[My daughter] went to Dive practice today! This was a big deal, fun for her. [This is a recurring private lesson shared with other divers, not a school-sanctioned practice.] She enjoys diving, but maybe even more enjoys the camaraderie of her dive teammates and Coach Olivia. She wants and deserves more live social interaction than can be accomplished with online video gaming and being holed up with her parents [regardless of how awesome we are]. This is one throwback to our pre-Covid existence and it has served as a mood booster.

 

July 12 [Sunday]

We took a family drive to the cemetery in Newport to visit opa. We recounted a few opa stories and talked about family. He used to eat donuts with a knife, no touching. Cut a piece, poke it with the knife, eat it off the end of the knife, cut the next chunk, repeat process. The kids were young when he passed away in 2009, eight and five. After the ceremony those years ago we went home and watched a movie [Monsters versus Aliens], ate donuts [with a knife], candy and drank soda. Deliberate food choices in memory of a guy with minimal appetite for entrees due to stomach issues. Having a child say they can’t eat any more candy has a strangely fulfilling and joyful effect.

 

July 13 [Monday]

Well, shoot, so California is back under more restrictive lock-down protocols for Covid. The number of new cases had been increasing so this is not a surprise, but it is a bummer. Restaurants are again reduced to take-out only, other business types [beauty salons, bars, movie theaters, gyms] are closed effective today. Restaurants and beauty salons, at least locally here in Los Angeles County, are allowed the option of installing outdoor business areas. It won’t have any major effect on us because we’re already interacting minimally with other humans, but is not encouraging in the hopes of resolution.

It would be helpful if President Trump would wear a mask. In truth, I don’t think anyone should look to the president for hygiene guidance any more than we should for personal investment advice or betting input for sporting events, but wearing a mask on TV would help nudge the dolts in the right direction trying to hold out going mask-less like it’s a badge of courage. More like a badge of ignorance. I want out of this Shelter In Place and if masks are a helpful tool in attaining that end then I’d prefer people comply. In the spirit of full disclosure, I don’t don a mask when taking my evening walks but I do social distance with other pedestrians.

 

July 14 [Tuesday]

“You want a glove, you never know who handled these things?” This is the new chivalry offered to me by an older gentleman this morning, a patron at the gas station [Costco] at the neighboring pump offering me a disposable glove. I politely declined, but I did apply hand sanitizer afterwards before driving away. [Note: my displeasure with handling such things as a gas pump handle pre-dates Covid, as does the post-usage hand sanitizer application.]

 

July 15 [Wednesday]

My first dental appointment of the Covid era occurred today. It had originally been scheduled for May but I rescheduled to July hoping Covid would blow through by then. Nope, but I was now in overtime so I kept this appointment. At check-in a receptionist took my temperature by means of a hand-held non-contact device held to my forehead. [I passed.] The hygienist did the cleaning only, not the polishing due to the potential for effusive and minute spray from this procedure. 

-klem

The COVID Chronicle, June 16-30, 2020

 

June 17 [Wednesday]

I’m thoroughly enjoying my Covid-summer evenings on the patio. It gets a little cool, but a long sleeve shirt to supplement my shorts make for a pleasant time out here. Meanwhile, the mosquitos have, in return, been enjoying me. I’m a hairy guy, which covers much of my surface area with varying degrees of shag carpeting to fend off the flying fiends, but my feet and ankles are bare. This is consistently where I’m getting hit by those winged marauders. Tonight I fight back, I’m wearing socks!

 

June 18 [Thursday]

A team of baby birds is nested in the bush immediately outside our kitchen window, finches I think. They hatched last week. We’ve been enjoying their incessant chirping that sparks up throughout the day. They’re getting bigger, the chicks, because their vocals seem to have dropped an octave yesterday. We’re enjoying the birds. The struggle is to keep Ghost Dog disinterested in the budding family life happening within his realm. We’ve had to keep his encroaching curiosity in check. Given his penchant for killing things [squirrel, rabbit, skunk, lizards, mice and birds], these birds wouldn’t have a chance if he haunched up on his hind legs and were to aggressively get after the bush.

         Additionally, just now Steffi and Kelly were stepping out to go to a local restaurant, Butter. A baby bird was on the front walkway, alive, feathered and flightless. I don’t know if it’s a dove or pigeon as I am not classically trained in ornithology. Steffi and I both donned gloves, I climbed the tree from whence it came, located the nest, she handed the chick to me, I replaced it back into the nest. Hope this time it stays there until it’s ready. [Evening update: It didn’t stay. We found it in the street this afternoon and shooed it into the nearest bushes, which were across the street. Steffi researched, these birds apparently leave the nest after 12 days, then flounder on the ground for a few days until either attaining flight or meeting the coyote that will eat them.]

 

June 19 [Friday]

We had a team meeting for work today, virtual. The subject was broached about my field colleagues and I possibly working from home through the rest of 2020! I was surprised, and greatly disappointed, as I had been hoping for release, at least partial release, sometime in July. I work for a company that is thankfully cautious on behalf of the employees’ health. In this case, I suggest the possibility that it may be too cautious or too premature to speak out so far in advance while Covid-uncertainty is still unfolding. There is a lot of ground to cover before we should yield the entire year. My initial issue, or push back, is that we’re already three months in to working virtually and I’m struggling to retain or regain the interest of some [‘customers’] with whom I work. If we extend this out for another six months [!] it may increase the degree of difficulty to continue doing my job effectively.

Immediately after this morning’s virtual meeting I called a colleague of mine. We both spoke out during the meeting about concerns for going virtual to year-end. His concern, as he told me, is of more urgency and got my attention. If the company decides this job can be conducted virtually, well heck, it might then be reasoned that employees should disembark from an expensive state like California and relocate to a less expensive one. There are already large offices in Georgia and Texas. I’m seven years from retirement and would like to get across the goal line with this employer and without having to move out of state. 

 

June 20 [Saturday]

Happy Fathers Day tomorrow! But for today we celebrated at the Safehouse [my parents’ home], a Fathers Day lunch in the backyard. All four of us went, plus Uncle Joe was present. We picked up lunch at Café Bravo on the way there, dropped off a beer at [my big brother’s] for his Fathers Day reward. We stayed in the Safehouse backyard, socially distanced, donned masks, removed for the meal, naturally. We enjoyed considerable pent-up conversation, it was fun. I also enjoyed the soda, sparkling mineral water, coffee, peach pie and more than four mini-éclairs. [Hey, it was my cheat day.] Fun time, and not just because of the food. Two hours, then departure.

 

[evening]

Feeling still slightly engorged from a Café Bravo lunch, we opted for an abbreviated supper. I walked down the street to La Villa Kitchen for carne asada nachos [the boy], tacquitos [Wife Klem] and a single beef taco [me]. [My daughter ate bread or noodles for which she made herself, I don’t recall.] As I approached the front door of the restaurant an employee was scanning people’s foreheads to read their temperature before entering. If a patron wanted to dine in they needed to submit to a temperature reading and score under the acceptable temperature threshold. I was there for a walk-in pick up order and was not scanned.

I’d heard about temperature readings for access to stores and airports, related to Covid, and this was my first live sighting in action. The reading was taken with the scanner held at arms length several inches away from the forehead, but jarring to see, really, the almost intrusive interaction we’re now accepting as necessary. I hope this is not our future.

 

June 23 [Tuesday]

We had some excitement this morning. I’d mentioned the batch of baby birds that hatched and were nesting in a bush immediately outside our kitchen window. They all left the nest sometime between yesterday evening and this morning. One of the chicks must have had trouble keeping up with the others. It was in the yard this morning, unable to fly, and floundering around unable to maintain effective subterfuge. Ghost Dog’s attention was piqued, he inspected, caught and killed it. That was a big bummer. I’d prefer if he killed Fat Tony, the squirrel that occasionally sits on top of the concrete block perimeter wall eating palm dates and hectoring him. Not one of the baby birds that’s been chirping outside our window for two weeks.

 

June 24 [Wednesday]

While bogged down and immersed in work this afternoon, my mood was buoyed by a surprise visit, my big brother Mike! He dropped off a Fathers Day snack pack loaded with tasty grub. [He felt maybe obligated because we had dropped off a beer and card on his porch last weekend when we went to the Safehouse Saturday.] We masked up and spoke on the front porch for five minutes before he whisked himself to another commitment. I hadn’t seen him since March! I feel like a goof feeling as if I’d commit some grandiose party foul if I were to invite him in, so I did no such thing. I miss my brother and his people.

 

June 25 [Thursday]

[My daughter] and I made a morning trip to 85 Degrees, a local delicious bakery. There was a line to get in! Not because they were busy, only because they were social distancing. I heard about lines getting into stores and a maximum capacity, [Wife Klem] mentioned the lines to get into Trader Joes and Costco. This is my first time having to wait in line to enter a store. Not a problem, the line moved quickly, I’m merely documenting.

 

June 28 [Sunday]

Sunday morning visit with [my pal] and his momma in Whittier. I brought pancake combos from IHOP and they were totally delicious. But, of course, pancakes from IHOP, a fella would expect no less. We dined outside, distanced and wore masks when not dining. Fun visit. We then had EBay business to transact. I owed him $77 from the EBay sales of his merchandise on consignment. [We have a 60/40 agreement in his favor because he’s putting up the merchandise.] I also retrieved a box of desirable books to sell, including Steinbeck and Hemingway! I’ll have to research and find out what these’re valued at before listing for sale. 

 

[afternoon]

My N95 mask stinks. Not that it is ill-functioning, but in an olfactory sense. I’ve been using this same disposable mask since the first week of April. At that time I thought the mask requirement would be a short-lived ordeal. I had no concept of possibility at that time the masks would extend for three months with no end in sight. Anyway, I pivoted to a bandana that I will tie over my nose and pie hole. [Wife Klem] handed me the elegant bandana, one of [her mom’s] from years ago. Check me out rocking a vintage omi! Heck yes, with pride. I wore it out to Red Robin for Sunday night dinner pick up, my first outing with the upgrade in precaution gear.

 

June 29 [Monday] [morning]

I took the day off from work today. I’m at a maximum capacity of vacation days, so I must take at least two days of vacation per month, whether I need it or not so as to make room for additional accrual. 

We took the morning for a walking trail at the Back Bay delta in Newport this morning, immediately inland from the coast. A nice trail with calm water below and homes overlooking from the hills on both sides. It was good to force all four of us away from our electronic screens for a few hours. Peaceful.

         Now for the Covid angle. This is Orange County and there’s been plenty of push back from OC residents wanting to go mask free. The governor, so upset with the defiance, signed an Executive Order requiring masks for the most populous counties in the state, including Orange, when entering businesses. There were plenty of people on the trail this morning without masks, and sometimes in close confines. I've become so heavily inured with mask awareness for the past three months, that seeing people close up without one is a mental challenge to endure, the reckless heathens. But really, even outdoors if distancing is disallowed, precaution is called for. I can understand, I don’t mask up when going for my walks, but I do try to socially distance. Masks would be nice as a courtesy to everyone, but I don’t think it a kneecapping offence.

 

[evening]

I made French toast for supper. It was on my 2020 Goals, make French toast, and today, mission accomplished . . . and delightfully consumed. I’ve eaten loads of those things to date, but never made them. Today I have leveled that curve, so to speak. They were delicious and a repeat performance must be considered.

 

June 30 [Tuesday]

Happy birthday to me, I’m 53! A fun day, even with a full schedule of virtual work, culminating in strawberry shortcake dessert and gift giving! Two bandanas were amongst the bounty. The short-lived vintage omi-bandana mask-era was fun, but has been reclaimed after two days. I’ll rotate the new black and blue bandanas as my face covering.

 

[evening]

The inaugural playing of a new game for me and [my daughter], Like It Or Stop. I’ve got six minutes to entertain or amuse the opposing player, her. If I do not succeed, game ends at the six-minute mark. Success, though, is a voluntary choosing to exceed the six-minute threshold. Today, for our first gaming ever, I held serve for a victorious eight minutes! My game plan, I referred to my blog and regaled the opposition with live recall of the anecdotes referenced. I think we’ll be able to play again sometime because I saw her smile a few times.

-klem

 

The COVID Chronicle, June 1-15, 2020

June 1 [Monday] 

Some businesses in California are allowed to reopen today! Not all of them, and the open allowances are with restrictions [capacity numbers, masks, social distancing]. Actually, that’s not entirely true. Los Angeles is operating with those restrictions. Neighboring San Bernardino County is not. [Wife Klem] and [my daughter] were at a restaurant, tasty grub this Butter Cafe in Upland, San Bernardino County, and noted feelings of apprehension seeing patrons without masks. The battle for the new normal commences. Anyway, the openings, even if in stages, is a super step in the right direction. If the economy is on the mend I will gladly continue as long as needed ‘strictly virtual’ in my own work capacity. The cure [Shelter In Place], I’m hoping, will not kill more lives than the illness [COVID].

 

June 2 [Tuesday]

I’m fed up and came to an important decision today. First, the ‘What’s going on’ followed by the decision. Well, COVID for one, second, the protesting, rioting and looting scrolling across the country sparked by the death of George Floyd, an unarmed black man, at the hands of a white police officer. Tragic, to be sure, the death. The rioting and looting is deeply upsetting and contrary to constructive corrective measures. I found myself getting mentally mired in this unproductive mind set. But this is not intended to be a race-based monologue. That is a discussion far too nuanced to be conducted without any unintended foulings or misconstruings. So what is the decision, you press?

I decided I would pardon myself of a self-imposed obligation to read daily of the recently subscribed New York Times and Washington Post. The two papers run afoul of my conservative leanings which actually served as a catalyst for me wanting to subscribe. I know what my positions are on certain topics, the readings would be a good opportunity to challenge these standings by drinking deeply of an intelligent countervail. The offerings, so far though, have proven less than intellectually inspired. I amended the plans to read of the Business sections of those two newspapers. Those articles are generally very good. But now, too much death and gloom rather than fact-based journalism. But wait, please, this has unintentionally become a ranting diatribe. Not my intent. Please, allow me to step back from the impending self-immolation and get to the point in this next paragraph.

     My decision is to tilt myself toward constructive behavior and modes of thought. So, I choose to be more deliberate in where and how I will consume my time. My time. It is but one of the few things a person actually controls. Writing this silly COVID chronicle is one of several such constructive outlets where I choose to expend myself. There it is. I know, lots of build up and that’s the delivery? Yes.

 

June 5 [Friday]

There is an overabundance of bad news out there, if one is willing to let it in. Protests, new Covid cases still rising, businesses closed, unemployment is the highest since the Great Depression. But I will say this, in appropriately hushed tones, I’m enjoying the significant reduction in human interaction wrought by this. Also, my personal existence has slowed down and become more peaceful. There’s no place to go, hardly ever, and I like staying at home. I find myself with more time on my hands and, after my daily post-supper walk, feeling almost totally relaxed. The evenings have been nicely warm and I spend the bulk of it on the patio. I’m out there emailing, reading and listening to music. This is a particular aspect of Shelter In Place I’d like to incorporate into my post-Covid existence. Its feasibility will have to be vetted in the coming months when ‘normal’ returns someday. Despite the news reports emanating from beyond our premises, life is good.

 

June 6 [Saturday]

Anti-police protests in the name of George Floyd have been going on for two weeks now. Pictures and videos of large crowds of people, sometimes masked, but rarely socially distanced. This is really making a mockery of the Covid precautions. Heck, why am I abiding when that’s going on? I’m hoping this blatant ignoring of protocol will lead to a reopening of businesses. People can decide for themselves if they want to go out, plus masks and distancing can remain in effect, unless protesting [in jest, this last bit].

 

June 7 [Sunday]

Birthday weekend for [the boy]! My guy turns 19 today. I walked down the street to Vons yesterday and picked up a large chocolate brownie ice cream cake! We’ll be eating off this thing for a few days. The day’s culmination was a viewing of 1917, a World War I movie, his choice. We watched as a team, the four of us.

 

With all the hardships and tragedy wrought by COVID, a positive element, if I may be allowed to speak as such, in appropriately hushed tones of course, is the drastically reduced contact with humans! Look, sure, there are a certain number of humans I enjoy, then there’s a second-tier qualifying under the ‘Tolerates’ column, but the vast bulk fit cleanly under ‘No Thanks.’ OK, I’ve spoken my piece.

 

Speaking of reduced contact with humans, I gave myself a haircut this afternoon! [Truth is it’s been years since I’ve commissioned the services of a professional hair curator.] Is a tricky task, trimming one’s own locks, but I’ve come to manage it to a functional extent. From the patio using the reflection in the window, I employed the 3/8-inch buzzers to handsome effect on the sides and rear. I also had the good judgment to leave the front a floppy 5/8-inch, you know to give my balding skull a chance to have a little cover with what’s left up there.

 

June 8 [Monday] 

Mom and dad’s 58^th wedding anniversary! Whoa, that is very long and they’ve done a good job showing how to get it done. But during Shelter In Place and government-invoked five-person capacities they’ll hopefully be OK receiving a card advising of those sentiments rather than a get-together. Feels like I’m taking the easy way out, but I will assuage those sentiments justifying that orders are orders. So, the card was written, signed by the team and sent. Happy Anniversary!

         Oh yes, and meanwhile, there remain numerous protests ongoing throughout the country in the name of George Floyd. This is the African-American man who died at the hands of the police officer in Minneapolis on May 25, 2020. Protests with large numbers of people have made a mockery of the social distancing and ‘no gatherings of more than five people’ protocols. Still, we abide and do not gather. Hoping my parents feel no slight.

 

June 10 [Wednesday]

There’ve been calls to defund the police! Let me be clear, I’m not on board with that incantation. Sure, I know, ‘defund’ is not supposed to mean take all their money away, so say many of its advocates. It does, however, mean less money in their budget. To which I ask, which government program or agency has ever seen enhanced performance by less money? You may offer up Obamacare. Well, President Trump’s effort to defund Obamacare was not under the guise of improving it, but rather to make it toothless. 

         If you want to cut the police budget there is one circumstance in which my vote swings in favor. If the entire spectrum of government agencies, departments and branches are all going to be retooled for a budget cut of equal proportions. If the police departments are merely a single spoke in the entire wheel where everyone’s losing money, let’s talk. But, please pardon if I cut this discussion short. I do not intend for this to become a dissertation, just a narrative by which I document the ‘call to action’ that has arisen during Shelter In Place.

 

June 12 [Friday]

We went to the Arboretum this morning as a family! Fun outing at the commercial garden in Arcadia. Patrons are required to wear masks at this outdoor venue, which certainly seems an overreach. I’ll gladly social distance, but I beef at the outdoor mask. Anyway, I took the day off from work and am enjoying my time away. This is my first vacation day since Shelter In Place commenced. It feels super getting a day during the week to not deal with work. And sure, work is manageable, the workload’s been lighter than pre-Covid, but an opportunity to rejuvenate is not to be wasted.

 

June 15 [Monday]

The newspapers have been consistently negative regarding the COVID outlook. Trump, meanwhile, had been encouraging states to reopen their businesses in hopes of getting the economy to start back up. There was a brief window of about two weeks where new cases seemed to have mostly leveled off in many areas, to the point where a call to open seemed to make sense. I was thinking, even if it becomes clearly time to reopen, no way the papers or TV news would echo that because they’re entrenched in their Trump hatred and anything for which he’s in favor. Anyway, it is currently a moot point because there are lately reports of an increase in new Covid cases. No word on whether or not this is from the protests or cities and counties having reopened in the past few weeks. Reports carry statistics with no denigrating remarks about the protests’ effect at having spread the virus amongst its participants. Anyway, reopening would not appear to be having a good start to the week. For myself, I’m starting to think I’m not getting back to work before the end of August.

-klem

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