[Above photo: One of 3,500 temples on the Plain of Bagan, 800+ years old.]
19 April 2020
Being cooped-up, even in my comfortable apartment with a nice view, good books, ample electronic diversion, plenty of food, and no responsibilities, is enervating. I may live into my 90’s in great shape but I’m aware that my time on this earth is finite and this is not how I want to spend it. [I need to write a little rant each week. I’ll try to pare it down to one sentence next week!]
I ran out of fish and meat and wanted yeast and flour to make bread so I planned a trip to City Marketplace in Junction City Plaza for today. Marketplace has been closed for 10 days and just opened yesterday; I thought if I appeared at 9 on a Sunday I’d miss most of the traffic in the store. There was almost none on the streets, sidewalks, or normally bustling grocery. I’d donned a mask and carried plastic gloves and hand sanitizer, so I was prepared for an infected crowd.
I filled a backpack plus two large cloth bags full of groceries and very little fruit, vegetables or meat—they only had chicken, no fish or pork. My load was so heavy—-4 quarts of almond milk, a gallon of bleach, flour, etc.—that I took a taxi home. I also thought it was probably cruel to walk along the streets with a massive load of food past people who are struggling to just get htamin—cooked rice—for their families.
The streets are free of vehicles. My taxi was the only one I saw. No one is on the sidewalks. It is eerie but it was still good to get outside after being isolated for 4+ weeks. True, I take the garbage up the block every week or so and may buy some fruit across the street at the time. Once, early on, I walked to an electronic store and bought a headset for Zooming. Other than that, I am a shut-in.
When I got home I kicked off my flip flops, washed my hands, put all the groceries away, threw my clothing in the hamper, and took a shower. No bugs in here you can bet.
It has been particularly quiet since it is Thingyan and I don’t have classes. I did do a Zoom therapy session with a patient and a separate session with her mother mid-week, talking about it with my students afterwards. Otherwise, my social life includes my standing Zoom CocoRoro Cocktail Hour, two Facetimes with friends in California, and lots of email and WhatsApp. Aillen has been a steady contact for me, WhatsApping from Macau, where it is also very quiet.
I’ve spent much of the week organizing and editing my Malawi blog posts. It has been quite the trip down memory lane and lets me appreciate that experience all over again. In retrospect, Linda and I made a lot of it. I’m amazed to read about the group feasts she orchestrated and the gourmet food she prepared. I haven’t finished re-reading our final 2 month trip to Namibia but we saw, and did, a lot and had many wonderful adventures. She is really built for those experiences with her flexibility and ingenuity.
I have no idea if my blog can be wrestled into something of interest for others. I’m pleased just to have a record for myself and my children. It will take at least a month of serious, full-time work before I am ready to have an agent/editor look at it. And how, pray tell, does one get an agent? Details, details, my dear.
I watched the 5 available episodes of Roth’s “The Plot Against America” on HBO. It’s about the 1940 election going to Lindbergh, a Nazi collaborator, instead of Roosevelt and all the terrible consequences for the Jews. It certainly fits these times, despite the period costumes, autos, and language. As I await the subsequent episodes, I have taken up Elena Ferrante’s “My Brilliant Friend”. I find it wonderful and am told by an Italian friend that the series of novels are also very special. My current reading is John Walsh’s “The Falling Angels”, a memoir about his Irish-English family and heritage. It is beautifully written, has me laughing out loud, and is as rich in Irish culture as a Sunday mutton stew. I also enjoy a daily blog by Robert Hubbell, an attorney and very balanced writer:
My last cultural offering, and it is dark-humored, may be found with this link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzDhm808oU4
It is scary and sad to me that so many people are willing to avoid critical thinking in order to believe in someone who they think cares about them. Of course, he doesn’t give a shit except for their flattery and votes. Their lives, and their children’s, will be worse—poorer and shorter—-because of their need to feel valued and not scorned, even though he and his minions make it clear through tax, health care, and safety net policy, as well as personal behavior, what they think about poor, working or not, people. It costs us $3.4 million each time DT goes to Mar a Lago. He has spent more than 100 days there; perhaps $100,000,000. That would help some poor children get Head Start or a poor family get food stamps. It feels like he’s walking through the vault at Fort Knox or the Federal Reserve (Is there even a vault? I think it’s just for monetary policy, dummy.) and helping himself.
I am succumbing to my desire for homemade bread. I wasn’t going to do it, simply because I’ll eat it all up and have to answer to my waistline. But, given the limited outlets for sensual pleasure right now, eating is waving a flag. I’ve got a chicken on the rotisserie—-a thyme-Sriracha marinade—for supper. Bananas freeze wonderfully. They keep their color and slice easily if frozen, since they have little water in them.
I see the potential for wonderful things to exit this viral experience with us. Health care for all may not be such a tough sell. Maybe enough progressive oomph that we can ditch the electoral college and get money out of elections. The experience feels very Piagetian to me, moving along with life sort of normal (Obama), then chaos and confusion (Trump and n-coronavirus), and landing at a higher level than before. When I saw Barak endorse Joe Biden, I longed for him to be in the mix again. He is such a smart, kind, thoughtful, interesting, educated man and such a contrast with Mr. Lyin’ Bombast.
A Psychiatrist in Myanmar 