The Life in My Years

An anthology of life

Sunday, March 29th, 2020
The Butcher’s Bill 10:30 AM, PDT (only a momentary snapshot)
World
Cases: 691,867 Deaths: 32,988
United States
Cases: 130,478 Deaths: 2,314

Misleading Stats
Most mornings I get up, put on the coffee and look at the numbers.  Nationwide they still go from bad to worse.  I try to take some solace in our own county numbers but when I realize that they’re faulty any semblance of consolation disappears.  Most of the time I’m in a no man’s land between hopeful fantasy and heavy reality.

Contra Costa County runs along the shoreline of San Pablo Bay on the west and north.  It’s about 65 miles from Richmond in the west to Discovery Bay on the eastern edge where Contra Costa opens up to San Joaquin County and the swath of farmland that helps feed the nation.  From the shore of San Pablo Bay and the C&H Sugar Refinery in picturesque Crockett in the north to the upscale homes of Danville at the southern border it’s roughly 30 miles.

The population of 1.5 million runs the spectrum from the rich and famous such as celebrities like baseball star Buster Posey, money ball’s Billy Beane and Vince Neil of Motley Crue in Danville and the southwest corner of the county to society’s forgotten ones or the ones much of society would like to forget.  Those are the ones who live in the shadow of the refinery, downwind from the landfill and astride the big railyards; the rundown neighborhoods served by mom and pop shops because any supermarkets pulled out long ago.

Out in the Danville area you’re probably more likely to get tested for coronavirus than if you live within sight of the refinery stacks.  That might be a mechanism of the fact that as Bob Dylan once said “money doesn’t talk it swears,” and if your money swears loudly enough you’ll get your test.  It might also be a mechanism of the relative lack of medical services out on the west side.  That’s all despite the claim made by Trump a little over 3 weeks ago that, “Anybody that wants a test can get a test. That’s what the bottom line is,”

The president’s bottom line is just another fabrication.  The real bottom line is that my nephew and his wife returned from the Philippines and found out that they may have been exposed to someone with the virus while there.  They asked for a test and were refused because they didn’t yet have symptoms.  Trump’s tall tale of testing continues today with the assertion, “We have more cases because we’re doing far more testing than anybody in the world.”  It’s a fabrication of course if you take into account the more important per capita statistic.  The U.S is testing 1 in 366 people compared to Italy where 1 in 133 people are being tested.  That the county has 168 confirmed cases of the virus and 3 deaths should give some solace.  Truth is that there’s no comfort in those numbers, particularly if you’re one of the 168.  The dearth of testing makes the numbers just another administration shell game.  Continue reading

Saturday, March 28th, 2020
The Butcher’s Bill 6:30 PM, PDT (only a momentary snapshot)
World
Cases: 663,037 Deaths: 30,851
United States
Cases: 123,498 Deaths: 2,211

With the exception of Bio-Rad most of the businesses in our little town of Hercules exist to support the residents who commute elsewhere. To call Hercules a town is overestimating . Hercules, or more accurately the town’s planners and low rent politicians want our little berg to be a player.  Hercules started out in the 19th century as a company town for a dynamite manufacturer, the Hercules Powder Company.  Since then it’s become a bedroom community.  During the three decades that we’ve lived here a string of mayors and city councils has left in their wake a series of half baked schemes meant to turn Hercules from a spec on the map to a dot.  Most efforts have resulted in massive expense with minimum results.
Our own home is in the Refugio Valley, which starts at about sea level and gradually works its way a few hundred feet up over about a two and a half mile stretch. Our home is typical of 1980’s developments; two stories on a slab sitting on a smallish lot at the upper end of the valley.  Here at the far end of the valley we’re not exactly isolated but we’re not in the midst of it all either. And given the current viral state of affairs I’m more than happy that we’re in the far reaches of a speck on the map rather than a dot, or a splotch. Continue reading

Oh, a storm is threat’ning
My very life today
If I don’t get some shelter
Oh yeah, I’m gonna fade away

Friday, March 27th
The Butcher’s Bill 11:00 AM, PDT (only a momentary snapshot)
World
Cases: 558,502 Deaths: 22,251
United States
Cases: 91,255 Deaths: 1,353

As of today there are 25 states under a statewide order for residents to shelter in place. That means 25 are not and one wonders if the 25 not under shelter in place are living in blissful ignorance. While the fine print likely varies from state to state the general message is, unless you have to be somewhere essential, (grocery shopping, pharmacy, medical visit, essential work,) then stay at home. The exception to essential movement here in California is exercise that doesn’t involve interacting with others besides your canine companion or significant other. The important maxims are to maintain social distancing and no assemblages of ten or more.

The Year of the Rat
How did we get here? In our household, covid-19 appeared on the radar in the runup to the annual Chinese New Year Parade in San Francisco’s Chinatown.  The 2020 parade was scheduled for Saturday, February 8th.  In any normal year Chinatown is packed during the weeks leading up to the big parade; lion dancers prowl the streets stopping to cavort to the sounds of drums, cymbals, and gongs, the noodle shops, dim sum restaurants, meat markets, souvenir shops and bakeries are packed with shoppers and it’s all punctuated with the popping of firecrackers. Continue reading

A personal journal of life during the time of covid-19

Thursday, March 26th, 2020

The Morning’s Butcher’s Bill (only a momentary snapshot)
World
Cases: 492,603 Deaths: 22,184
United States
Cases: 66,057 Deaths: 946

The day starts on an inauspicious note. I’m waking up to Nancy Pelosi’s weekly news conference and it’s less than inspiring. On this her 80th birthday her remarks range from rambling to almost incoherent. She’s sounding less like the Speaker of the House and more like someone’s confused grandma. Perfect, an incompetent president and a befuddled speaker.

Negative Nancy
I don’t know which tone is more troubling, the addled one or the partisan one.
“We take some pride as I said earlier that congressional democrats in the Senate and in the House were able to flip this over from a corporate trickle down Republican version to bubble up, worker first, families first legislation….Can you believe that it was every Republican, 49 Republicans last night voted to deprive those on unemployement insurance of the additional $600 a week? How could it be that in this time of stress and strain and uncertainty about health and life and livelihood that they would vote that way.”
Such a seduction to engage in partisanship; the ravishing allure of getting in the last word, seems almost sexual with these legislators. There’s no need for McConnell to bait the left and Pelosi to piss off the right and then in the next sentence give a weak nod to bipartisanship. You’ve done the damage with the damning of your opposite.
Listening to Pelosi this morning and Trump yesterday I wonder, where is our leader? Who is going to be the man or woman who will set aside blame and have us believe it. Who will be rolling up his or her sleeves and getting to work and exhorting us to roll up our own sleeves?
Immediately following Pelosi, that man emerges but I’m saving him for last. Continue reading

A personal journal of life during the time of covid-19

Wednesday, March 25th

5:30 in the morning and as per the routine I’m the first one up with Lexi a split second behind. Get dressed in the dark while Cora sleeps.  I’ve decided that I’m going to have a dedicated “in the house” garb.  My “travelling clothes should go into the hamper once I’m home although I’m not as religious about it as I probably should be.  Laziness in the time of covid isn’t exactly a capital idea.

Bright red Adidas sweatpants and a red sweatshirt.  At least I won’t get this confused with any other of my clothes in the closet.  It doesn’t leave the house except to go down the street to get the mail and given the bright screaming red that’s probably a good idea. Whatever possessed me to get those pants? Continue reading

Taking a breath of viral free air to offer something pleasing and to try to relieve some of the angst if only for a few moments.  The San Francisco Bay Area is rich in street art; some of it sanctioned and some not. Below is a small sampling of images of a few of the many murals that grace the Bay Area.

Half Moon Bay

For years the surf contest at Mavericks along the coast about 30 minutes south of San Francisco has captivated people around the world. The small section of coastline sees waves that are typically over 8 m (25 ft) and top out at over 18 m (60 ft). Unfortunately the contest has been cancelled for four straight years due to “logistical problems.”
But surfing is still king in the area.

On the side of the building that houses the Cunha Store (a great little general merchandise emporium) in Half Moon Bay is a mural of surfer Jeff Clark challenging a big wave at Mavericks.  Below: The mural actually covers two walls. Surf Mural 2

Surf Mural detail

Just north of Half Moon Bay is the little town of Princeton and the Pillar Point Marina.  The sides of a utility box depict the local ocean life. 

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I’m up before dawn on a 50° F. morning; chilly for the Bay Area, balmy for those struggling with a side order of snow to go with their pandemic.  Wife, daughter and grandchildren are enjoying the warmth of bed.  Lexi bounces up, all tail wagging, rolling on the floor, butt in the air doggy excitement. It’s her we’re going to have an outing dance.
“Sorry girl, I’ve got to go hunting.”
It’s not hunting in the traditional sense.  This doesn’t require a gun.  Not yet anyway, but as Samuel L. Jackson famously said in Jurassic Park, “Hold onto your butts.”  It’s discomforting to contemplate our little bit of leftover reason giving way to intimidation at gunpoint for a couple cans of Spam.
Look at the clock, 5:30, running behind.  Throw on some clothes, grab some disinfectant and out the door.  A glance back at Lexi, giving me the “what about me,” look.
“I’ll be back, girl. Go back to bed.”

At Foodmaxx in Pinole there’s a small knot of people with their shopping carts waiting for the doors to open.  I’m pleasantly surprised that I haven’t been greeted with a line. The talk this morning is about the morning’s primary quarry – toilet paper.  One poor fellow is down to just a couple rolls and his tone carries more than a little hint of desperation.  Toilet paper jokes circulate around our little group; mentions of orphan socks, leaves and stinging nettles.

The door opens and everyone is deferential.  It’s not like we were in a line but the politeness and lack of rudeness is a nice way to start the day.  The burly guy who opened the door has seen reruns of this show and announces right off,
“We are out of paper products. No paper products.”
“Fuck me.”

Half of the group heads into the store to stalk other game while I abandon my cart and head for the door with the other half.  Off to the next hunting ground. On my way to the car I spray my hands again with homemade disinfectant and mull my choices; Lucky just about a half mile up the road or Safeway about ten minutes down the interstate. Shopping for the basics has become something like spinning a roulette wheel.

What used to be one trip to a single store has become a multi-stop scavenger hunt for Lysol, Clorox Wipes, Purell, and other cleaning supplies; meat, frozen foods and dairy.  The aisles that carry bread, pasta, pasta sauce, canned meats, beans and vegetables have become a wilderness; a good opportunity to wipe down the barren shelves.  Paper towels, face tissue and of course the sine qua non, toilet paper have become the supermarket version of the unicorn.  I don’t even bother with the wipes or the hand sanitizer.

Below it looks like $3.13 for air or as that classic rock song goes, Money for Nothing

20200322_142624

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Then we set out the lines. Next we slid into the river and had a swim, so as to freshed up and cool off; then we set down on the sandy bottom where the water was about knee deep, and watched the daylight come. Not a sound anywheres – perfectly still – just like the whole world was asleep, only sometimes the bullfrogs a-cluttering, maybe. ~ Huck Finn describes life on the river

Huck Finn and his companion, the escaped slave Jim, are runaways. Hiding by day and gliding along the Mississippi by night. Even while on the lam, Huck finds solace in the peaceful flow of the river.

This week Amy challenges us to share our images of rivers. In her post Amy uses Norman Maclean’s semi-autobiographical novel as the backdrop for her images. Good choice. The book is magical and the movie is a superb adaptation. When I was younger and contemplating retirement I dreamt of settling in a cabin near the Blackfoot River from McClean’s story. Seems like a good place to be now.

Follow the link to Amy’s The World is a Book to see her images of Banff, Colorado the Nile and even a statue in Rome.

My river story takes place in Oregon on the Klamath and the Umpqua and on California’s Stanislaus River.

Klamath River

Dawn or dusk, a riverbank is a place of sublime tranquility.

Klamath 1

Dawn on a bend in the Klamath

Klamath 4

Morning fog on a Klamath dawn

In the calm slow stretches the river serenades with a peaceful, trickling murmur.  Klamath 2

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I think there’s some value in putting down our own stories of this unprecedented moment in history, be they narratives, works of fiction, poetry, art, songs or any other record of the experience of 2020.  Years from now, decades from now, historians and students will look for stories, particularly first person, of this singular event.  If we do nothing else, let this be the lesson. 

Current events, specifically those surrounding the giant virus in the room, are harder to keep up with than a poltergeist. Surrounding; probably not the appropriate term – not here, not America. “Surround” assumes we’re getting our arms around it and right now our arms aren’t yet long enough. Change is moment by moment; the numbers, the news good and bad, the progress and the setbacks. The good news is that China’s arms finally grew long enough. As of this morning it is reporting no new local infections.

On the home front. Looking for things to pass the time since the gym and swinging by The City are off the approved list of activities.  You can only sit in front of a crossword for so long.  I find out that there’s free college out there – free bleeping college.  Yesterday afternoon browsing the free online course offerings from the Ivy League Universities.  Like the kid in the candy store.  Like ME in the candy store, in the licorice section, you know that black candy that nobody but me and a few select others relish.  Old people candy is how a friend once termed it.

Better late than never we’re finally answering the bell.  Gee, wasn’t it a little more than two short weeks ago that the President of the United States called it the Democrats “new hoax,” and Limbaugh bloviated something about the “common cold?”  Better late than never is about the best I can credit Trump with even if he’s still not completely getting it.   That he’s finally decided to take it seriously is something of a plus even if he bestows his lackluster, canard filled response with a score of 10 and refuses to take any responsibility (where are Lincoln, FDR and JFK when you need them).  Screw it, there is no time for this; for hashing out that part of the mess now.  For now it’s just spilt milk under the bridge.  Let history settle it – and it will settle it, oh yes it will.  We have more pressing matters right now..

I start a wishlist of classes to take.
Introduction to Key Constitutional Concepts and Supreme Court Cases
University of Pennsylvania
Moral Foundation of Politics
Yale University. Morality and politics – hmmm – must be just a one hour lecture broken up with a 45 minute break.
America’s Written Constitution
Yale University.
The Civil War and Reconstruction.
Columbia University
They might not look interesting to you but to paraphrase; one man’s history class is another man’s chem class.

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It isn’t the end of days but, as the bard Robert Zimmerman (aka Bob Dylan) wrote, The Times They Are a-Changin. I’ve published one piece about the coronavirus and have begun another but I can’t seem to keep up with the a-changin’ times. What was relevant two weeks ago is ancient history.  Hell what was up to date an hour ago is just dust.

I’m taking a break from the family jigsaw puzzle and I’m not down to counting sheets of toilet paper – not yet anyway.  I’ve stepped away from watching my retirement money take “the highway to hell” as the bards Angus Young, Malcolm Young and Bon Scott wrote (Do AC-DC count as bards?). The song promises that satan will be “payin my dues” but I’m not counting on old Beelzebub to carry my freight.  I hear tell that he’s something of a loan shark; charges steep interest rates but all of that smacks of religion and I’ve no truck with such legends.

It’s going to be a while I think before any of us can take a trip to San Francisco so instead of binge watching every single season of Friends let’s take a random tour of The City through images both previously published and new.  Let’s start with my absolute favorite San Francisco district – North Beach.

North Beach is San Francisco’s Little Italy and, being of Italian descent, it’s only natural that this little enclave is a favorite. It’s where I go when I want an Italian food fix; good pecorino, creamy mozzarella (not those rubber supermarket balls), authentic sausage and salami, a cappuccino and cannoli, or a Peroni beer at a sidewalk table. But dearest to my heart its a place where I can mingle with the old Italian guys, watch them gesture and listen to them speak the native tongue.

Coit and tricolor

The Italian tri color is omnipresent.  Above it waves under the gaze of Coit Tower

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