New York City - 10/09/1980 - 6 p.m,

 Finished the Met. Called the Museum of Modern Art and discovered they were closed. It was o.k., the crème of their European collection was loaned to the Met including Rousseau's Dream and The Sleeping Gypsy and, the high point, worth the $6 to get into the Met twice, Van Gogh's Starry Night.

Went downtown, looked at S & L's (Seligman and Latz, my employer at the time/ 2021) offices in the Tishman Building (great building, tacky cramped offices) what did I expect. Went into Bergdorf Goodman, crowded, less expensive than I had originally thought. Went into a bookstore, Coliseum Books, bought a book by a semi-unknown cartoonist and also Oliphant's book of political cartoons (pure heaven). Picked up a print and postcard at the Met when I left there and then stopped off at a discount store and bought two scarves, one for me (white) and one for A (my stepfather /2021), then walked forever (as usual) to find a subway entrance. They can be mouther fuckers to find. 

I had finished everything I wanted to do save the Cloisters tomorrow and Macy's on Saturday. Saturday is my big fuck around day. 

Got on the subway and coming home IT BROKE DOWN!!!! People who live here don't even have that happen to them. I'm so lucky. They managed to drag ass into the 96th St. Station and I decided to walk from there. How can I describe sitting in a crowded, hot, sweaty subway car? Miserable doesn't quite do it justice. Keeping chic is out no matter what you're wearing. Sweatsville! Anyway, it being 96th St. I got out and walked the rest of the way (only 20 blocks or so). Took a nap in expectation of this evenings festivities. Not a very busy or exciting day (except for the 3 hours or so I spent at the Met), but enjoyable.

2021 - This was the first time I saw A Starry Night. I have had the good fortune since to see it twice more. A friend of mine suggests that it looks like matter changing into anti matter and then changing back. The canvas throws out waves of emotion which made me literally take a step back in the Met that day.

New York City - 10/08/1908 - 10:00 p.m.

 Got up about 10 (after being out till 1:30 in the Village and getting totally, expensively blasted). Drunk for days. E's (a roomie) mother showed up a day early, charming woman. Left for D.C. this morning and will return Friday. Met marvelous people including a redheaded bartender who was enthralled with my red hair. Went to the Boot Hook (a quasi leather bar) dressed to kill. Talk about uncomfortable. 

Ate breakfast with C(my host-2021) this morning and then headed downtown. Played a couple of hours, bought a green tie uptown to wear with the suit I was wearing. Looked SHARP!!! Played downtown after smoking a joint on Riverside Drive. 

Bought a turquoise ring. The man who sold it to me tried to talk me into buying a cheaper ring (two hands holding an unidentified object). I kept trying to tell him I liked the more expensive (by $1) one but he was so insistent. I won. Then I found a bookstore and bought two books, a Carly Simon song book and a book on the making of Tommy (both $1.98). Between the ring and bookstore I went into Woolworth's and bought R (my sister) a sheriffs badge (really tacky). Same as the Woolworth's back home except all the souvenirs are N.Y.C. instead of S.F. Got a ticket for "Act/Road" (1st or 2nd row) Friday night. Will play in the Village afterward. 

Shelly Berman was marvelous. Funny and charming. Looked okay too! Met Geraldine Page (she was in the audience). She was a mess. Pointed out to me by a woman in a gray suit who sat next to me during the show (well done woman). 

Came back uptown on a crowded rush hour subway to C's potluck. She was running on Jewish Standard Time as usual. The potluck was a done so I came home, ate dinner with the guys and did my laundry. C's friend G dropped by for awhile. 

Tomorrow finish the Met and go to the Museum of Modern Art and then dancing!!! with C and G wherever we decide to go. I do miss the city and will be glad to get back although I'm enjoying myself immensely here. 

Love and all that.

2021 - Geraldine Page, how well I remember that moment. She was perhaps the first, certainly among the first, celebrities I have had contact with throughout my life. She sat some rows back in the half empty theatre. My balcony seat had been upgraded for free to the orchestra. Her hair looked as if it hadn't been washed in a week. She had twisted it and pinned on top of her head with two large bobby pins. She was wearing a somewhat soiled denim outfit and was toying with a long tie dyed scarf. I approached her and said "I enjoyed your performance in Interiors very much ". It was a lie, I hated everything about that movie except Maureen Stapleton. "Why thank you" she replied, looking looney as can be pulling that long scarf through her hands. You could almost hear the music from a cheesy 1960s grade b thriller movie playing in the background. Still have the book on the making of Tommy in my library despite my editing my book collection several times in the past decades. 

New York City - 10/07/80 - 7 P.M.

 Went for as drink last night with C (my host/2021) and Ch (one of her roommates). Bartender was a struggling actress (also a total delight). I became a little more comfortable with Ch (I feel he's probably the only one I could ever deal with on a constant basis). 

Today I ate donuts by the river on Riverside Drive and then rode the subway to 42nd Street. Discovered myself in the heart of the theatre district. Wild orgasmic sensations began. Spent two hours gaping at the Winter Garden, Miskoff, Helen Hayes et. al.  Fucked up some film by assuming there were 30 exposures instead of 24. Then, not knowing how to take the film out, I opened the camera to do so. Not a good idea I soon found out. 

Anyway, after getting through that catastrophe, I got my ticket to Shelly Berman's show tomorrow and then found myself at Rockefeller Center. Took a 30 block walk down 5th Avenue (feet said "ouch"). Beautiful street, mansions on and off 5th Avenue.

Stopped at the Frick collection. Beautiful and very well put together. Then went to the Met to discover that the gallery I wanted to visit was closed. The first time I'll be able to get to it is Thursday morning (before laundry and dancing). 

Bought postcards downtown on Broadway for 2 cents each and bought two prints ( one Whistler another Monet) at the Frick, then went to the Guggenheim. Bad museum for paintings because you're on a slant and the pictures are not. One wonderful painter with pictures that change as you move around them. A very nice impressionist collection including a goodly number of Picassos. One Van Gogh, HEAVEN! Fascinating building from an architectural stand point. Little touches such as arches and all that make it a little less sterile then it appears at first glance. 

Walked across Central Park trying to get a good Picture of Central Park West which was impossible because of the fence around N.Y.C. water supply (also fucks up views of  5th Avenue from the park.)  Tried (unsuccessfully) to find a black tie, will have to look again before the show tomorrow. 

We'll go into the Village tonight, maybe get the ticket to "Road" for Friday (providing the box office is open tonight.). Tomorrow we'll be doing something in the morning (maybe play in the Village) and then go see the show and go to C'S (my host) potluck in the evening. The Met on Thursday morning, laundry, a nap and dancing. Friday The Cloisters and Modern art Museum (if open) and maybe something else (the show in the evening).  Saturday shopping and general fucking around. Sunday lunch and then back home. 

The vacation is going so fast but I'm getting things together in my head and having a nice rest from work and Miss N (my roommate/2021). Will be much changed (read calmer) when I get home. Am actually missing the city and the people there although enjoying my visit and C's (my host/2021) company here.

2021- There are certain photographic memories one collects over the years. One of mine is sitting on that New York curb in the theater district, opening that camera, and realizing I had just screwed up the last few pictures on that roll of film.

New York City - 10/06/80 - 7:30 p.m.

 Weather has been gorgeous, light chill, blue skies, wonderful. 

Did the Liberty Ferry to the Statue of Liberty (it's huge) after eating pastries and tea with C (my host/2021) before viewing her school building and dropping her off at her class. Took the subway downtown with P (my hosts boyfriend/2021) and took the ferry . Went to the top of the statue (long climb), took 20 pictures on  film we paid too much for and get high on Liberty Island (how bizarre). 

Saw the immigrant museum which contains the 1st Torah used at Dachau after it's liberation among other things (it's contained in the pedestal of the statue). How the hell our government got said Torah is beyond me. 

We took the ferry back, on board bought J (my roommate in S.F. during those years/2021) the most tacky Miss Liberty I've ever seen and proceeded to go downtown via Battery Park, where I got my pix taken on a sculpture by P. We then found Wall Street and the Stock Exchange (very weird) then all manner of wonderful (real cheap) clothing and Woolworth type junk shops and sidewalk sales off Wall Street and Broadway. Bought an obnoxious shirt and wonderful web belt. 

Ate lunch at Kentucky Fried and then walked (a long way), down to the Village. Played, had a drink at my first NYC gay bar and bought cards at Greetings, a wonderful card shop. Stopped in the Unicorn Shop as well, a slightly overpriced old clothes store. 

We had a blast today and my feet hurt but such is the price we pay. 

I intend to see Shelly Berman's show on Wednesday and I'm Getting My Act Together and Taking it on the Road at the Circle in the Square on Friday night, playing on Christopher Street afterwards. 

Had a nice dinner, made by C this evening and intend to go out to one of the neighborhood bars tonight. Laundry on Thursday is a must. Will be going out dancing on Thursday night which should be a blast!!! Will go to 42nd Street, Broadway etc. tomorrow and maybe finish the Met (who knows).

Having a wonderful time even though C has boring roomies (which are sitting next to me here in the room) but these situations can be worked out. 

Got hold of S (C's old roommate), will meet her on Saturday so the week should round itself out well. 

2021 Discovered, whole cleaning out drawers, one of my favorite photos I have ever had taken of me. I am in jeans, boots and a trench coat, which is flapping the wind, smoking that joint on Liberty Island. It is heavily damaged but I will probably hang onto it forever. I do wonder, judging from the coat, how we managed to light that joint with all that wind.   

 

New York City - 10/05/80 - 10:50 p.m.

 Last night, Christopher Street after having dinner this small party at the seminary C's (my host/2021) friend G lives in. He looks gay, goes to gay palaces and professes to be straight. Ah well (kinda cute too). Anyway, Polk is more fun than what I saw of Christopher. At least the street. Polk is busier with different and diverse people - it's also brighter, more street lights and bars and such.

Coming home my numb brain hosts decided to take the #1, transfer to the express and then transfer back to the #1, therefore saving time. After leaving the #1 we discovered the express wasn't running. This at 1:30 in the morning when I was suffering from jet lag city. (also, we smoked some pot and got toasted on sangria). I bought 3 small ceramic pins (3 for $5) off a street seller, G bought a pink flamingo ceramic pin. Well, eventually we got home and to bed. 

I was the first too rise this morning among the three of us, about 1 p.m. P (C's boyfriend/2021) and I went down to the Met. The Egyptian temple is quite impressive. I will have to go back to view the 19th century art gallery. There were 3 full rooms of Degas' painting and sculpture. I was in heaven, brain cells bursting by the thousands. It was incredible. In one opulent bedroom from a palace in Venice P remarked, "Well, if you've got this far you sure as hell are going to get laid". The furniture and "things" were nice but when we got to the art works it was getting late and we didn't have time to do them justice (hence my going back later). The costume gallery was closed off till November, I was a little bit wrecked about that, but otherwise it was a wonderful trip.

Came back home via Central Park West (hot apartment houses) and 97th street to Broadway, bought salad makings and came home. We bullshitted, cut C's hair and then dinner was served. We proceeded to eat ourselves into a stupor (chicken, stuffing, small amounts, green beans with almonds, or some kind of nut) then I brought out some weed and P and I proceeded to get high as everyone else turned it down, which was a real wreck from the stoneheads I am used to. Her roommates are nice enough but they are the normal intellectual students, the kind that tend to drive me up the wall. Heavy into politics (there are a couple of other topics which even I cannot decipher here, and it is my own writing!/2021), and such, and also discussed (in great detail) medieval history. One argument was whether there were more Edwards or Henrys on the English throne (how relevant). There is no answer as the two debaters could not come up with a mutually acceptable date for the beginning of England (what fun). I will be spending mucho time away from the apartment. 

Tomorrow Liberty Island and (hopefully) Christopher Street again to pick up some cards and the like. Both of these activities with P. So much to do, so little time. I'll have to come back again (hopefully with more interesting people) to play another day. Its' a nice place to visit but I'm beginning to feel like I wouldn't live here (at least not this far uptown), but I'll have fun and explore by myself. ah well, till tomorrow.

2021 As a teen I got a cosmetologists license and at this point was managing a department store beauty salon, hence the cutting hair remark. I did edit this post lightly because 40 years after I wrote this even my own handwriting was impossible to decipher. I did make a return trip to New York (2 in fact ) but not until 1994 and 1995, oddly, staying with a couple I had met in Key West who lived exactly 4 blocks away from where I stayed during this trip.

New York City - 10/4/80 - 7:00 P.M.

 Arrived 6:00 a.m. (left 15 minutes late, still got here on time). Slept for the day, took a leisurely time waking up (2 p.m.). About 3 took a leisurely walk around the Columbia campus and then paid an awe inspiring visit to St. John the Divine. Beautiful stained glass, vaulted ceilings, embroidered and jeweled vestments along the sides. I was impressed. Massive brass doors depicting religious scenes, especially enamored of the "Creation" series, almost surreal, very geometric. 

Mom and A(my mom's husband/2021)had a special joint of $200 an ounce grass waiting for me last night. A got wasted in the car on the way to the airport. R (my sister/2021) was there as well (surprise), C (my host/2021) and P (her boyfriend/2021) met me at J.F.K. and we promptly got lost in the N.Y.C. subway system. 1 hour trip turns into1 and a half hours. Fun! C likes her household this year, this is heartening. Still want to figure out what gives with P and her, ah well. 

Most impressed (I reiterate) with St. Johns - will send M and P (my brother and sister in law) a postcard or something from there. Going out to dinner with one of C's friends tonight in the village. Will write what it is about after it happens. Must iron my blue cords, I feel real attractive in them. Laundry mid week is going to be a must I fear.

Meanwhile back in 2021 - I've given relationships in parentheses followed by 2021 to make things as clear as possible. Obviously I really liked those blue cords although I have absolutely no recollection of them. I guess they fit my young ass well. 

New York City - 1980 - Introduction

 Over the past months we have been spending quite a bit of time, effort and frankly, money, on our home, a 9th floor condo in Chicago. We have upgraded our kitchen appliances and  been acquiring new furniture to replace our old  as well as planning and mapping out further changes to come. We have recently both "semi-retired" rarely working more than 3 days a week. We now spend more time in our home than we did before. As a friend of mine put we are "nesting".

As a part of this process I was emptying out and going through the contents of an old blanket chest in preparation for the delivery of it's replacement. Among an assortment of items I found a journal from a trip I took to New York City in 1980, I was 22, just a few days shy of my 23rd birthday. 

I have decided to post these entries on this site, it did start as a place to record my memories of all the trips I have been fortunate enough to experience after all. The entries will remain exactly as written when I discovered them. I will resist the urge to edit. I prefer to present them precisely as written, from the perspective of almost unimaginably young eyes chronicling an era long past. 

As is my habit I will not identify anyone by name, instead using initials for the people that shared this experience with me. Hope that doesn't get too confusing! Here goes!

Transition

 It's gray outside yet still mild enough to have our windows and balcony door open as fall places a stronger hold on the city. Summer to fall is a slow, gentle transition. Many claim fall as their favorite season. 

I am transitioning with the season, learning to understand and embrace my new world of semi retirement. Pre pandemic I worked, often under extreme pressure, full time. During my younger days, when I was in retail management, this sometimes meant 6o hour weeks. In my 20's, living life as what would now be called a gig worker, I was sometimes putting in 50 hour weeks. It was what I needed to do financially, but that is another story. 

We came out of the worst of the pandemic in fairly good financial shape, for which I am grateful. I got a job, after being laid off, where I work with a great product and am well respected. Since our expenses are low I realized that we could cover the costs of all our needs, and most of our serious desires, with me working only 3 days a week. This leaves me with the luxury of an excess of time. I, during my adult life, have had to keep life going, outside of work, with a minimum of this luxury. I have always rushed to cook, clean or grocery shop. There never seemed be enough time and wasting it, or whiling it away, was never an option. Now I'm working to slow myself down. To realize that, though it may be Monday and I return to work tomorrow, it is only for 2 days, and then there is more time after that. 

During the summer I was distracted, by afternoons at the beach, lakefront bike rides and free symphonies in the park. Now, for the next several months, these distractions will be gone and I must realign my time. I am trying to write more, you are thanked for your patience in advance. I cook, am delving further into our extensive music collection of cds and vinyl, which I care for with some amount of pride, than I ever have before and with the recent gift from a coworker of a Kindle he wasn't using, will begin to read as I have always wanted to, but had trouble finding the time. I want to explore classics, the "good stuff". I am looking forward to becoming acquainted with Hemingway and renewing my romance with Mark Twain. I want to experience more of the bare, raw masculinity of Jack London and the lyricism of Toni Morrison, although finding something by her I haven't already read will be a challenge. On occasion, at the gym, my workouts are less strenuous and lighter as my visits are a little more frequent. I am learning the comfort of staying in bed till 7 or 7:30, sleeping in for me, I am transitioning

It is an interesting journey, I thought of retirement, but when confronting it I found I don't understand it at all. I am learning to transition. 

2021 Symphony - 3rd Movement - Fall

 At this time of year the sky is still dark as I awake at 6. I see the red eye flights arriving and departing at the airport off in the west, their lights looking like fireflies in the dimness of the early morning. The air is cooler, even though sunny and temperate, beach days are a memory until next year when the afternoons  will once again be long, and the sun, sitting high overhead in the middle of the sky will be warm. The sun lies lower in the sky now. Now we form a different set of memories, colorful leaves, the scent of fires crackling in fireplaces and thoughts of the upcoming holiday season, hopefully more joyous than the last when pain, depression and fear of a silent epidemic held us in it's brutal, cold hand.  

I have gone to the theatre, a passion of mine I missed deeply. While the play wasn't all that great the theatre of the theatre was. A group of people, vaccinated and masked, once again sharing an experience. A group of people reconnecting with being the social animals that we are. Trying to reconnect with the feeling of being together instead of isolated and apart. 

Crawling From the Wreakage

 We have been left with the pile of wreckage the former president created of the United States. It has become, in many places, a soulless shell of it's former self filled with hate and cruelty. 

A young man of high school age, speaking about the death of his grandmother from covid, pleading with this local school board for a mask mandate, heckled by adults in the room. A parent attacked in his car by others after a school board meeting for asking their board to take the same action. 

People spout hate and hurl insults at a sitting president that speaks in a slow, reasoned way. They call him feeble and senile. Yet the former president they idolize suggested that if we stopped testing covid cases would go away. Suggesting that ingesting disinfectants might combat the virus forcing manufacturers to plead with customers to use the products only for their intended purpose. Spouted lies, hate, division and fear daily across social media platforms bringing us to the brink of civil war. A war that may still be fought.

We watch as a woman right to chose and all citizen's right to easy voting access are chipped away by state legislatures. Much of our judiciary branch, including the Supreme Court, has been stolen from us.  Judges appointed, many highly unqualified for their positions, put into place to ensure restrictive, ultra conservative decisions by the very same people that once complained of progressive judges legislating from the bench.

The media shares blame. Even the so called progressive media question and criticize the new administrations every move yet offer no alternatives. They are addicted to strife, chaos and division. It is "good television".  They could, if they desired, elevate the conversation. Debate, offer suggestions and alternatives, move us forward. Instead they throw gas on a fire which is close to, of not already, out of control. Because, you know, ratings and all. 

Can we recover or do we call the 250 year old grand political experiment, the United States, a failure. What is needed is empathy. Concern for the well being of people other than ourselves. Acceptance and tolerance of people of different colors, cultures, religions and ideals, just attempting to make their way through the world like everyone else. The country that once, with pride, called itself a melting pot needs to return to that value. We need to create a place where what is best for all is more important than what is good for the individual. Where we move forward instead of becoming stagnant or watch ourselves be turned into a political, social and ideological circular firing squad. 

We were once the United States. We are no longer. I fear we may never be again. I hope, for the sake of future generations it is not too late, that we will be able to repair, that this fear does not become a future reality.

Washington/Oregon 2021 - A Last Look - Mt. Hood

 We arrived at the lot to return our rental car. The manager, the same one we had doused with windshield washer fluid at the beginning of our trip, came out to tell us that we would be better off returning the car at the airport as his shuttle wasn't running yet and he wasn't sure when it would start, which seemed odd, but off we went to the airport. 

Going up to the counter to check in, we were informed that, although both our bags were within the weight limit for two people, one was too heavy than the allowable weight of a single bag. We went off to the side to shift contents. It was an awkward moment. I felt the eyes of the people in line judging us and our level of  traveling competence. 

After a few last minute purchases, tee shirts, hoodies, airline passengers are captive consumers, as I learned while working at a store in O'Hare. We were taxiing towards the runway. We had, during our stay in Portland, searched fruitlessly for a peek at Mt. Hood. Clouds, rain and location had thwarted our efforts. But, as we moved towards the runway, off to the left we saw the snow covered peak out the plane window. As we lifted off into the air we viewed three majestic peaks on the horizon, each dusted with a coating of mid June snow. 

Washington/Oregon 2021 - Traveling and the U.S. Health Care System

 Without going into lurid detail I needed to visit an urgent care facility our final day in Portland. It kept me pretty much in the hotel room for the majority of that day but I was rather over the devastation that was Portland at that point, so, no great loss. My husband, with my complete blessing, headed off to Nordstrom, getting lost both coming and going by his later account. 

But back to the urgent care. When it became apparent I was having a problem my husband called the first phone number that came up on his phone. Oddly, they had no physical site, they only came to the patient. They then informed us that they would not see us because we were from out of state. The women at the desk at our hotel, who were wonderful throughout our visit, not only found a nearby urgent care site but also made an appointment for us.

Now, because I am covered by the ACA, my insurance is not accepted outside my state. Thankfully the fee was affordable but brought to my mind, once again, the horrible and unfair conditions of our country's health care system. What might have happened had the problem been more serious? Though I pay for insurance "in network" care was unavailable to me. 

We are the only industrialized country without a system of national health care. We also, because our health care is allowed to be profit making, spend more on it per capita. Some might yell "socialism". I call national health care a system that is fair, efficient and rooted in common sense and decency.

Washington/Oregon 2021 - The Columbia River Gorge

 A faceless interstate highway lead us to a historic, 2 lane country road which runs high above the Columbia River. The lush green we had become accustomed to lined the sides of the road. Overhanging trees created verdant tunnels. 

Our first stop was Vista House, a lookout point graced by a beautiful Art Nouveau observatory dating from 1915, unfortunately closed due to covid restrictions. The lookout gives you an expansive view of the river and gorge. Even with the observatory closed 2 levels of platforms outside still allows you to experience the beauty of the surrounding area. 

As we drove further occasionally some of the former roadhouses, dating from the 1920's, could be seen set among the thick foliage. We headed for the first of the several waterfalls in the area. They plummet over the tall rock walls of the gorge, cut by the river over the ages, adding their water to it's wide expanse. Some of the falls are thin ribbons, others raging torrents that seem almost boastful of their incredible beauty and immense power. Some fall from the walls directly into rocky stream beds becoming rapids, others cascade, collecting in pools or streams before rolling over another rock ledge taking a more indirect route to the river below. 

As we reached Multnomah Falls, the second highest year round waterfall in the U.S., the number of people increased. From a historic lodge, with the gift shop ubiquitous in almost all U.S, scenic spots, a trail leads up to a bridge which spans the falls providing visitors with an up close view of the roaring waters. The water catches on rock and ledges during it's descent adding dimension and texture to the spectacle. 

Instead of taking the highway from the falls we decided to take the small road back in the opposite direction from which we had come. The sunlight filtered thorough the canopy of trees as the sun broke out giving us relief from the rainy gloom. As the clouds dissipated we were treated with a clearer view of the river below. We stopped at Vista House for a final look, now cloud free, of the Columbia Gorge before heading back to Portland. 

Washington/Oregon 2021 - Portland's Japanese Gardens

 A friend who had lived in Portland for several years had told us that the city's Japanese Gardens would take us half a day to explore. We went through them in an hour and a half. This was partly due to the pouring rain we sloughed through the morning we were there. Though lovely they are relatively small, and, to my mind, not worth the rather hefty admission charge. 

After wandering a bit we found cover from the relentless rain and, consulting the map of the gardens, realized that we had seen everything. The rain kept us from fully exploring the mountain top park where the gardens are located. The park is a lush oasis. In addition to the Japanese Gardens there is a Rose Garden, Portland calls itself the Rose City, and the city's zoo.  

We decided, as we had spent far less time than we had allotted for the gardens, to take in the Columbia River Gorge and it's waterfalls, which we had originally planned to visit the following day. We returned to the hotel and got directions and maps to the gorge from the two lovely, gracious, helpful ladies at the reception desk, they were a delight to deal with the entire length of our stay, and were on our way to the waterfall wonderland. 

Washington/Oregon 2021 - Portland

Perhaps if  I had had the opportunity to visit pre covid. If I had visited before the economic devastation and the weeks of riots and demonstrations had ravaged the city, things would have appeared different.

What we found as we drove through the streets was a city looking as if it was emerging from war. Scores of empty storefronts, blocks of buildings with windows boarded up, a homeless problem that, even city leaders admitted, had reached crisis levels. Tent cities have been created under roadways and vacant lots. The tents of the homeless lined entire city blocks. The inhabitants of the tents, dirty and bedraggled, wander the streets, sometimes converging in groups on corners. Windows of bars and restaurants were covered with paper, closed, some perhaps permanently. Small parks and squares are barricaded, fenced off and graffiti scarred. I heard on the news one local official say that it would take as long, if not more, than 2 years for the city to recover. To me this assessment seemed overly optimistic. The city had a desolate, almost desperate air. 

Like many west coast cities it had a provincial feel. Perhaps, being developed so late they haven't had an opportunity to mature, perhaps they do not care to. They are content to be what they are, not striving for more. Unlike my home town of Chicago, which, despite occasional missteps, looks forward to the future, while respecting the past. Bold, arrogant, aggressive yet well mannered and genteel all at once. 

For a city so rich in moisture Portland lacks the lushness it could possess. It's streets bare of greenery. It seems to disregard it's past. Historical structures are intermixed with bland, unimaginative concrete structures. Form follows function, except the form is missing altogether. I found myself wondering what was sacrificed, what had been lost forever for so little gained. 

Perhaps it is me. Maybe my life in one of the world's great metropolises has made me demand more. I am certain there are those that are content in Portland as I am content in Chicago. Perhaps, even at it's best, Portland is just not for me. 

Washington/Oregon 2021 - Damn GPS

We stopped by my niece's house the next morning to witness the aftermath of the wedding and say goodbye before heading off to Portland. Apparently the festivities had gone on until the wee hours of the morning. My youngest nephew had been up until midnight before rising at 3 a.m. to catch an early morning flight back home to Baltimore, my new nephew in law had forgotten where he had left his phone the night before, finally finding it in his pants from the previous day which were themselves found, crumpled, in one corner of the bedroom. As we left my grandniece had her head in my niece's lap as my niece braided her hair. It is a sweet ritual between them. It brought back memories of my final day at my nephews house 6 years before, the two of them, my grandniece only 6 at the time, in the bathroom, singing at the top of their lungs to the radio as my niece, curling iron in hand, tamed my grandniece's then unruly hair. 

Getting to Portland was easy enough. We took the wide interstate highway this time, as opposed to the more scenic route we had used coming in. Nearing the city we decided to give GPS one last opportunity to guide us through the city streets to our hotel. Once again we found the technology lacking as it began to send us, as it had before, driving around in circles. Once again we switched the damn thing off and went by instinct, eventually finding our destination without her assistance.

Checking in to our beautiful, historic hotel, opened in 1913 it is on the nation's historical registry, we discovered that a sizable number of covid mitigation measures were still in effect. Masks required in all indoor settings, many businesses still shuttered, a combination was needed to access the restrooms in the lobby of the hotel, along with public restrooms in several other places. We felt as in we had taken 2 steps backward as back home Chicago had fully reopened, without capacity limits and dropping mask mandates for the vaccinated. 

We went to the only operating dining option in sight, a sports bar, for lunch, before retiring to our sumptuous room for some well deserved down time. 

Washington/Oregon 2021 - Operation Wet Reception - Plan B

 As the rain fell the bridal party leapt into action. Tables and chairs were carried to the tent set up in the back of the house for just such an event. As I mentioned in an earlier post, my niece's planning was meticulous, rain is commonplace in that area of the country. Food from the buffet was hustled inside from the front porch. I, my husband and youngest nephew, watched the proceedings from under the protection of a large tree while we ate. If anyone had questioned us my husband and I could use the excuse of advanced age for not assisting, my nephew was on his own for an excuse.

Everyone resettled under cover except for one tiny, blonde girl in a pink fantasy princess dress who twirled around in the rain, her curls flying around her beautiful face, getting soaked and having the time of her young life. Toasts were made by the grooms best friend from the age of 14, who challenged anyone who dared say anything negative about the groom to a Indian leg wrestling match, the bride's best friend and maid of honor, who had changed into sweats, her dress from the ceremony having gotten drenched when she was helping to move the wedding to the tent, and my brother, still holding back tears, somewhat unsuccessfully at that point. He spoke of watching the old movie "Father of the Bride" and remarking to his wife that walking a daughter down the aisle was something he would never experience. He spoke, humorously, about the night he learned that they had been gifted with a third child. My niece was unexpected as her brothers were 11 and 13 at the time. He spoke of his respect and affection for the groom and the happiness that he had brought to his treasured daughter. He hugged his daughter and son in law. It was a beautiful and heartwarming moment. 

The bride and groom shared a first dance, including a dip which the groom managed to execute without dropping my niece on her head. My brother shared a dance with his daughter, another of a number of beautiful moments of that day. We left in the rain to return to our hotel promising to drop by the next morning before heading off to Portland.

Washington/Oregon 2021 - A Beautiful Ceremony, Then it Rained

 We arrive about 45 minutes before the ceremony was scheduled to begin. After checking in with my sister in law and my niece in law, who were busy in the house preparing the food, and complementing them on their choice of dresses, which were both lovely, I and my brother, with his best friend, copped glasses from the kitchen, a perk of being family, and headed out to her car for a glass of Moscato she had bought at a gas station mini mart. She complemented me on my lack of pretention as I sell nice wines for a living yet was standing on my niece's lawn enjoying a libation procured at a gas station in rural Washington. My sister showed up shortly and we took a sibling photo. 

The ceremony was beautiful. My brother, holding back tears, and sister in law, escorted my niece across the lawn to a table set with flowers and 2 glasses of sand, whose significance I will get to shortly. Pragmatist that I am, I found myself thinking, in the back of my mind, "They are never going to get the grass stains out of the train of that dress." My niece and her husband exchanged vows. Then my brother, still fighting tears, it was a day he had dreamed of for years, recited a poem by E. E. Cummings, my brother loves poetry,  about people journeying through life together. This is where the sand comes in. My niece and the groom then blended the two glasses of sand into a third to symbolize blending their lives together. The groom the lifted bride off her feet and into his arms for the ritual kiss.

It was time for dinner and dancing. Clouds had moved in and things began to get moist. As everyone filled their plates with wonderful, home cooked food from the buffet on the porch moist turned into wet. Wet turned into steady rain.

Washington/Oregon 2021 - My Special Skill Set

 My niece had the wedding scheduled, on paper, down to 15 minute intervals. All persons involved were given their assignments and the time frames in which they were to be accomplished. Understand she was not overbearing, the dreaded bridezilla, in fact far from it, she was just exceptionally organized. Even I had a job.

At 3 p.m. the grooms party was to report to the lobby of my hotel for me to tie their bow ties. Apparently I was the only person in the small county of 3000 that possessed this skill. They arrived 15 minutes late. I was a little concerned that their tardiness would result in my niece having them lined up and shot for fouling up her meticulously crafted plans, making my tie tying skills all for naught. Apparently she forgave them as they were still alive when my husband and I arrived at the wedding venue, my niece's spacious yard, their ties still tied. 

There was a certain sense of pride in my instructional abilities as my new nephew in law became rather adept at adjusting and tightening the ties of his groomsmen. That is until the reception when they were uniformly untied and eschewed altogether.

Washington/Oregon 2021 - A Morning Stroll Through Cathlemet

 The wedding was not taking place until 5:30 leaving us much of the day to ourselves. We decided that after breakfast we would take a walk around the tiny river side town to take a few photos of the surroundings and late 19th and early 20th century buildings and homes.

The oldest structure we found was a house, listed on historic registers, which dated from 1860. A blue jay landed nearby as we explored it's small public grounds. The two Victorian homes located across the street from it were dated 1895. Several of the buildings along Main Street were from the early years of the 20th century. It was interesting as we walked to imagine the stories that were created as the little town grew. 

We found a small park with a river front trail and, oddly, a locomotive on display. As we strolled along the trail a group of Ospreys flew up from the river bank. With the excitement of children we watched them flit and fly among the ruins of docks which rose up out of the water, the ruins a memory of other times. As we were taking a break on a river side bench 2 young men appeared and launched a tiny sailboat off the sandbar where they had left it as they ran into town for supplies. "Astoria or bust" yelled one of them doffing his shirt as they moved out onto the water of the wide river. 

 

Washington/Oregon 2021 - Dateline Astoria Oregon

 As we exited the ferry and turned toward Astoria the landscape on either side of the road was the lush green we were becoming accustomed to. On that day the rain forest that this area is designated as lives up to it's name. In one stretch thick fog trapped between the hills and forest on either side of the road made navigation almost impossible. 

The town of Astoria is situated close to where the Columbia River empties into the Pacific ocean. It is lovely and historic. The downtown area and ports are on flat land at the rivers edge, a hill above holds residential neighborhoods. Large, ocean going ships sit in a line in the river waiting to load or unload their cargo. A high bridge, necessary so that the large ships can pass under it, spans the river.

In the drizzle and rain we browsed through the numerous antique shops in search of treasures. I picked up a small religious volume, part of a set, I have a collection of antique and vintage books, the other volumes of this particular set have ended up who knows where. The inscription inside is a Christmas message from a father to his child. It is dated December 1957, the year I was born. It resides with me now. 

We strolled thorough streets lined with exuberant jazz age facades. We lunched in a restaurant, masked and socially distant, Oregon's covid mitigations were stringent, a month behind what we had become accustomed to at home, or the more carefree attitude we experienced in rural Washington, that gave us an excellent view of the row of ships waiting their turn to conduct their business before venturing off to their next destination. We drove out to a state park closer to the river's mouth before heading back, traversing the high bridge, the sharp drop of the roadway as the you near Washington's river shore making the crossing a small adventure in itself.

The road hugged the shore before it moved, once again, into the deep, dense wonder land of green, taking us back to our hotel where a good night's rest waited before the wedding festivities the next day.  

Washington/Oregon 2021 - A Ferry Ride

We left Cathlamet's downtown and headed towards the bridge which spans the Columbia river to Puget Island. It is from there that a ferry runs across the remaining portion of the river to the Oregon side. We are on our way to Astoria, a historic town near where the Columbia empty's into the Pacific. 

Puget Island is a pastoral place of small, rich green fields, cows, chickens and ducks and picturesque farm houses and barns. It seems to be a part of the America found in the work of Norman Rockwell and Grandma Moses. A sign at the ferry dock bills Washington  as "The Emerald State". Judging from what we had seen so far it was easy to see why.

The ferry takes a languid trip to the fairly close by opposite shore. As it nears the shore we spot a female bald eagle partially hidden in the dense cluster of trees. Suddenly we see the male, gliding across the water and landing in the tall grass along the shoreline. To those that live in these parts it may be a familiar sight. To city dwellers like us, it leaves us excited and breathless.

Washington/Oregon 2021 - What Families Are

My nephew, his wife and their daughter arrived in the late afternoon 2 days prior to the wedding. We called, then drive over to my niece's home, where they would be staying, to greet them. It is a happy reunion. Hugs are exchanged. The contact is welcome after the year long pandemic that had made us physical strangers, even to those closest to us.

We are invited to stay for dinner. My sister in law moves about the kitchen with the ease one only sees in a matriarch, with years of experience cooking meals filled with care and familial love. We talked and recalled tales in the special way that is only shared by families. My husband made friends with my niece's dog, who washed my husband's face before dinner with his tongue.

My nephew in law invited me to join him in vodka shots, immediately  impressed by my ability in that particular action. My husband took, what he referred to as "blackmail photos", my brother, holding one of my niece's dogs, my niece, the nephew in law and me, heads tilted back, downing the Russian brew. I swiftly share the photos on the internet removing all blackmail threat.

Hugs are once again exchanged as we depart, I somewhat inebriated, my husband, driving, thankfully sober. 

It was a special moment in time. One of those moments that make families what they are.

Washington/Oregon 2021 - Mt. St. Helens or I May Blow My Top

 After a surprisingly abundant breakfast in the dining room of the small hotel and a chat with a couple staying there visiting their kids and grandchildren, who live in the area, we headed off to Mt. St. Helens, the site of the infamous volcanic explosion in 1980. As we climbed through higher and higher elevations the abundant lush, green landscape continued to surround us. I imagine if you were to live there you could become inured to the verdant beauty around you, take it for granted, as I work not to do among the glorious architecture that surrounds me in my home town of Chicago. 

Snow capped mountains rose in the distance. Dark, heavy clouds and gray skies added an imposing air. The volcano is the largest mountain in the area. The collapsed peak was shrouded in clouds, the snow down it's sides resembled wide, white rivers. 

Much of the area is private land owned by timber companies resulting in almost surreal views of groves of trees of a uniform height standing among the more natural forest. The trees grow for over 40 years before they are harvested, the cleared areas then replanted and cleared again in another 40 years.

We took a narrow gravel road off a viewing area and found ourselves in a small, quiet clearing in the dense forest. It was a contemplative moment. The tips of the evergreens were tipped with the new, pale, fresh green growth of spring, birds sang, wildflowers, rising up above the grass, were in full bloom, adding their bright colors to the multi toned shades of green.

This, we discovered, is Bigfoot country. We stopped by a kitschy roadside attraction with a statute of the legendary creature outside a gift shop, the emporiums that are ubiquitous in such places. There are two men also stopped at the attraction. One, rather attractive, has a cocky strut reminiscent  of  the walk I saw frequently among the men in Prague. I found myself thinking that someone with that walk would be expected to wear tighter pants then the baggy, low slung jeans this gentleman was sporting. 

Across the road a small river bubbled over it's rocky bed. More trees lined it's banks, Purple wildflowers were scattered among them standing straight and tall. 

We descended the mountains and headed back on the now familiar State route 4. We saw a turnoff to a beach and decided to snack beside the river on the food we always carry with us on these trips. The beach is a narrow stretch of sand strewn with the fallen remnants of the grand trees abundant in the area. They have been sculpted, by the forces of time, sand and water, into massive driftwood works of art that only nature can create. It is another quiet moment. We allowed ourselves to get lost in the view of the lush growth of the opposite bank and the slow moving river gliding by us on it's way to the Pacific.

Washington/Oregon 2021 - The Charming Town of Cathlemet

 Washington and Oregon are lush and green. Layer upon layer of green. Ferns carpet the ground under thick, dense forests of trees that sometimes spread out their branches to form tunnels over the road. We cross from Oregon to Washington over a bridge that looks like it was made using a giant erector set. The structure is an example of "form follows function" that manages to be, with its spare lines, lovely and  graceful as it serves it's function. The final 20 miles of our journey to Cathlemet, the tiny town where my niece was going to have her marriage celebration, the reason for this trip, is the most lush and beautiful segment of the drive. 

A historical note, Cathlemet sits on a site next to the Columbia river where Lewis and Clark bought provisions from the native tribes of Washington, for what they felt was an exorbitant price, on their way west. The towns small stretch of Main Street, with a couple of exceptions, is a moment pulled from another era. Our hotel dates from the 1920's, the bank next door and the other buildings along the street date from around both sides of the turn of the 20th century. A shuttered saloon is reputed to have been the town brothel, the business being conducted in the rooms on the upper two floors of the building. We can see the river from the windows of the second floor corner suite we had treated ourselves to, as well as the Greek revival county courthouse, which, like the hotel, also was constructed in the 1920s. The town has the unique distinction of being the seat of the smallest county in the state, with a population of 3000, much of it semi rural. 

Next door is a gingerbread trimmed Victorian home. A koi pond, with fish the size of large cats, sits amongst the abundant flowers in front. In it lives a man and his wife. The proprietor of the hotel tells us that the man worked for Warner Brothers for many years and that there is a substantial collection of memorabilia from those years inside. My movie loving mouth waters at the thought. Another Victorian, it's second story shingled, sits on the corner.

We met my niece, her husband, they were already married but had not been able to share a ceremony  with family and friends due to the pandemic, and my brother and sister in law at the Mexican restaurant across the street. There are only a small handful of dining options in the town.

 A margarita and burrito put me to sleep at the end of a very long day,

Washington/Oregon 2021 - Running Around in Circles

 The view from the air changed from the patchwork quilt of farm fields, which cover much of the central part of the country,  to the ridges of snow capped mountains. As we draw nearer to the northwest portion of the U.S., and our destination, the view changed again to a lush green carpet of forest. 

Landing in Portland we grabbed a shuttle to pick up our rental car. We had been upgraded to a larger, more luxurious car than the one we had ordered, a pleasant surprise. As we were leaving we gave an accidental shower to the well dressed, carefully coiffed male rental office manager while testing out the effectiveness of the windshield wiper fluid. We were on our way, or so we thought. 

An accidental wrong turn, caused by a graffiti scarred road sign left us lost in Portland, which sounds like the title of a movie with deep, dark psychological under tones. The car GPS sent us, literally, driving in circles through the city's streets. We were further frustrated by a freight train blocking our path, which, from the length of it, seemed to begin and end in different states. We hoped there was enough of Oregon to accommodate the part of the train that had already past as the thing trudged on and on. 

Finally we decided to ignore the female voices insistent, inaccurate instructions and managed, through grit and moxie, to get on the proper road, albeit going east instead of our desired direction of west. Our thought process was that we would, at some point from the highway, see an off ramp and then on ramp, which would send us in the right direction. We were hoping this would happen sometime before we  reached the neighboring state of Idaho. 

We saw what appeared to be an opportunity and pulled off. Opting to do things the old fashioned way we decided to ask directions of locals at a gas station. The first two people, which worked at the station, were clueless as to how to get us pointed in the right direction. A third, barefoot, straggly haired man, that smelled heavily of marijuana, gave us instructions that would leave us traveling several miles through the streets of Portland before we would meet up with our desired route. As we went off in the direction he sent us we both agreed that it didn't feel right, turned around, and found the on ramp to the highway we needed, one block from the gas station. We finally, after 90 minutes of wandering around, were on our way.

There is a moral to this story, never trust directions from GPS or from a stoned, barefoot, drug damaged man with straggly hair.

Washington/Oregon 2021 - Early Morning Post Pandemic Pandemonium

 We are organized, bags packed and weight checked, our carry ons edited to the current standards of the TSA, cab preordered. There is the final check of I.D.s, credit cards, phone charger and flight information. I give the cat one final peck on the head, this is more for me than it, as it is probably wondering when you are leaving, as you assured her you would, giving it the house to herself. She has been looking forward to this. We lock the door, securely stow the keys, as we won't be needing them until we return, and we are on our way. 

On this particular early morning the sun is bright and the traffic is light making the initial portion of this trip uneventful. 

As we pull up to the terminal we enter a chaotic storm of cars, cabs, airport shuttles and luggage, many of the bags seeming to have taken on a life of their own, moving about at will at terrifying speeds. From the cab's windows I catch a glimpse of a final hug between two friends or family members as one departs. Inside the terminal people fight through a labyrinth of stanchions and counters, checking in or going through the rigors of airport security. Some scurry, luggage trailing behind them, checking flight status, some look over shoulders trying to see the end of the stanchion maze they are currently winding their way through. It resembles, to some extent, like the base of an anthill.

All are masked, a holdover of the recent, turbulent times. Now that I no longer have to wear one to work, the gym or the grocery store, it is amazing how quickly I have become unaccustomed to them. 

On this particular early morning we stop by a food court to obtain desperately needed coffee before proceeding to our gate. Fast food orders are shouted from counter to kitchen, personal conversations are loud, people on cell phones are yelling over the din to make themselves heard by the person on the other end.

On this particular early morning our flight leaves from the last gate in the terminal. We sit, there are not many others in the waiting area yet and we find a somewhat quiet, peaceful moment. 

Coronavirus19 Diary - Epilogue

 When I started this blog my posts were memories and recounts of my travels. Over the past year I have stayed in place. Next week we will be celebrating the marriage of my niece, in person, on the west coast.

Even though I have not left home I have still traveled. I have gone from full time to part time work, a liberating experience. I have explored my thoughts and desires, a result of the private time afforded us by the pandemic. I have come through this life experience, as I have with others before it, wiser, gaining wisdom though both trial and joy.

There will continue to be lingering effects. Many are people and families are physically, emotionally and financially stressed. Others are searching for a new path, the one that they had been traveling disrupted, as was mine. Physical signs of what we have been through remain. Masks are still worn in some settings, social distancing still in place in others.

Post pandemic we will move to a new normal. One we each will need to explore, experience and find our individual place in.

Coronavirus19 Diary - A Missed Opportunity

 We had a moment, a small window, when we could have some unity. The country faced a common enemy, a deadly one for some. Even with a deeply divided country, with proper leadership, we could have banded together to fight it. 

But the country's leaders were determined to use the enemy to further divide the country. Instead of a unified front they created a patchwork of rules and regulations. Those attempted to keep their populations safe were at the mercy of those that did not. The virus had no respect for state boundaries, it spread from one place to another enabled by lies and inconsistent, callus, foolish leadership. Instead of bringing us together it drove us just a few short steps away from civil war. The hate and division stirred up by many in leadership culminated in an attack on our nation's capital. It created a mad crowd calling for the blood of those that did not believe as they did.

We have lost the moment. But, perhaps, after time and reflection, we can grow closer than before. Perhaps intelligent, measured, empathetic leadership will lead us to a, if not perfect, at least less damaged union. Maybe the historic numbers of people who voted in our last election will, despite the obstacles created to block them, continue to provide us with voices that had not been heard. Perhaps we can find a course forward and away from the whirlpool that spins us around in a circle, going nowhere.

Coronavirus19 Diary - A New Beginning?

 It was a momentous day, the CDC announcing that vaccinated people, such as myself, will no longer need to wear masks for both indoor and outdoor activities or practice social distancing. I will admit to an emotional dam inside be bursting at the news causing a few tears to run down my face. I look forward to hugging friends and family, there will be a wedding this summer in Washington that will give me the opportunity to to this in spades. It makes sense, knowing what we do. I, vaccinated, am well protected from the virus. This means that the chance of me contracting it and spreading it to others, the reason behind masking, is infinitesimal. 

Of course, it will take time for us to sort this out. Masks are still required on public transit and airplanes and, as I live in Chicago, I assume they will be required in a number, if not most, businesses for a while longer. Still, it feels as if we have reached the mouth of a dark tunnel, if not yet stepped completely into the bright sunshine outside it. 

This problem coming to a conclusion will give us an opportunity to focus on others brought to light and in some cases exacerbated by this dark era, minority discrimination, income inequality and the state of our nations crumbling infrastructure to name a few. Yet many in our country seem to be intent on obstruction instead of construction. Of continuing to use power to retain power for power's sake instead of utilizing it to better the lives of  those they were elected to serve. 

Will this change? Will this soon to be past period of social and economic upheaval make people pause and perhaps reassess their traditional allegiances and elect those who will move us forward instead of those who represent and cling to a divisive, harmful and inequitable status quo? Will we see, coming out of these dark ages, an American Renaissance? We can not know, but I, for one, am not yet willing to give up hope. 

Coronavirus19 Diary - A Right to Bear Arms

 Another mass shooting. They become ubiquitous. They lose their ability to shock. They become commonplace, a part of life in the U.S.

People speak of their right to bear arms yet fail to understand the reason for the 2nd amendment. Our new country had no army or police. Law enforcement and national defense were dependent on individuals  forming  "well regulated" militias to protect life, property and newly declared rights and liberties. They ignore the primitive  nature of firearms at the time the amendment was written. It took 90 seconds to load a single, inaccurate shot from a musket. The concept of a firearm being able to release scores of shots in seconds would have been unfathomable to our country's founders. 

Politicians offer thoughts and prayers yet no sensible solutions. We watch, powerless, as those we voted into positions of power refuse to use it for the common good. 

Self described Christians attack a woman's right to choose yet are silent regarding guns. It is, at best, a questionable moral stance. 

I have no answers. Contacting my representatives in Congress is pointless as I live in the progressive stronghold of Chicago, itself a victim of the patchwork of gun restrictions, surrounded by states with gun laws more lax than ours. 

I wonder if this madness will end. I wonder if liberty means the right to live free of fear. I wonder what it will take, or if it is possible, to restore a bullet riddled nation's soul.

  

Coronavirus19 Diary - A Few Words on Writing

 Sometimes the words come easily, tumbling out of my brain almost faster than I can write them down. Sometimes I am stuck mid sentence, I scroll through my mental dictionary searching for the words to convey my point. Sometimes the point itself seems elusive. I watch as a concept coalesces and strengthens into something that can be conveyed.

 Sometimes my hand seems to act independently. I observe in amazement as posts seem to write themselves. Sometimes words and ideas pour into the margins of the page after my initial thoughts have already been set to paper. 

Sometimes, for various reasons, sizable periods go by when I don't write. I begin to feel almost guilty, feel as if I am denying myself the structure and emotional and intellectual outlet and exercise afforded to me by writing. 

The act of writing is intriguing to me. I am curious by nature. So I write.

Coronavirus19 Diary - A Year in the Life

 It was the day before the 1st anniversary of the Illinois covid lockdown and I am in a chair at a Walgreens in Chicago's loop pulling up the sleeve of my tee shirt to receive the first shot of the Moderna vaccine. A year that proved my resiliency, that proved to myself, once again, my ability to move through the obstacles that life and fortune, good and bad, confront me with. 

I feel both hope and empowerment. I see the promise that we will move past this crisis and we, as a global society, will be able to confront the problems this pandemic has left in it's wake. Exacerbated wealth and racial inequality, job and business loss, desperation and anger. The anger searches for a target, a place to focus. In the early days of AIDs I remember friends speaking of anger, yet not knowing where to direct it. 

I understand it, I sympathize, yet I try not to carry it with me. From a glass half full perspective I attempt to turn anger into positive action. At work I attempt to assure people that we will soon be through this. That we will soon be able to put this painful, sad and debilitating moment in history behind us and move towards a future, changed from what we may have envisioned but bright with the possibilities of lessons learned.

Coronavirus19 Diary - A Field Trip

I try to reman patient. Chicago's Art Institute, a cultural and civic treasure that has been shut, opened, shut and now open again, offers an opportunity to spend a few hours renewing one's soul. Needing a field trip, a break from our current abnormal routine, I and my ex roommate from my San Francisco days masked up and bused downtown to spend some time in it's art and antiquity filled galleries. 

In the modern wing a roomful of works by Rothko, an artist I enjoy in spite of my better judgement, awaited us. Two were borrowed from private collections. I always relish the chance to see privately owned pieces, usually hid from public eyes on the walls of wealthy collectors. The soft, mottled blocks of color soothed me, transporting me to a place distant from the still strife filled times we are living through. We walked through a room of Warhols and strolled past Hoffmans and Lichtensteins. 

We moved to the gallery of ancient Roman artifacts. Inspecting a heroic sculpture depicting Hercules we discussed whether, in a pre steroid era, there were men that thickly muscled, or if the sculptor had taken the physique of an athlete or hard laborer and exaggerated the proportions to mythic levels. I have also wondered this about the caryatids adorning the Baroque buildings that line the streets of cities like Vienna and Prague. Although if the present day men we sometimes saw in Prague are any indication, they may have been sculpted from real life. 

We roamed through the museums awe inspiring Impressionist collection stopping for a moment in a gallery focusing on the work and times of Toulouse Lautrec. 

We descended the marble grand staircase and exited through the museum's massive glass doors. Bright sun and cool temperatures greeted us as we headed down the front stairs past the two iconic lion sculptures that flank them and walked down Michigan Avenue. A young man in a form fitting Spiderman costume crossed in front of us on his way into Millennium Park and for a moment, despite the masks and weariness of mitigations, I could envision the beginning of an eventual return to normal.  

Coronavirus19 Diary - Will Covid Matter?

It has been almost a year since Chicago's initial lock down. A year since my 3 months of furlough, followed by 3 months of unemployment. A year since all our lives were upended in ways I never would have imagined possible. The year has not been lost. In fact, it has been one of the most tumultuous ones in my 60 plus years. Lacking direction we were left adrift, left to make it up as we went along. For many "we are all in this together" turned into "every man for himself". 

We have been fortunate. Financially we have come through this relatively intact. Despite periods of unemployment we have avoided the desperation and food lines experienced by others. In our house we have discovered that we can manage to, in fact managed to, weather a storm as intense as this one. 

During the initial lock down I remember, perhaps making the best of a bad situation, remarking how unpleasant the cold spring weather was and how we probably wouldn't be spending much time outdoors anyway. Now Chicago is going through one of it's worst winter period in several years. Once again we can say "Well we wouldn't be going out much anyway" as the options in terms of outside the home activities are still somewhat limited right now.

Even though I have a job to go to, which gives me a day to day change of scenery, I do find myself suffering from fatigue. I long to meet friends at a restaurant or bar. I long to attend a play or just take an impromptu trip to Chicago's free Lincoln Park Zoo. 

Things are reopening again. We hope this time it sticks. The Art Institute has reopened after having to close twice. Restaurants are allowing limited indoor dining, although I will admit that I, personally, am not "there" yet. My hope is that we will have a mild spring and outdoor dining will return sooner rather than later. 

Our lives will return. But I wonder what follows. What lies ahead. Will we learn to be more grateful for experiences we once took for granted? Will the consideration I have seen among some of my fellow citizens continue going forward, after the crisis has passed? What lessons have I learned, what will I take with me from living through these times? Time will tell.

Coronavirus19 Diary - A Historic Day

 The day began bright and hopeful. One of the run off races in Georgia had been called for the democrats, the second democratic candidate had a promising lead. Biden would have the majority, however slim, of both houses, something necessary to advance his agenda and move our country forward out of it's 4 year long nightmare. Work was routine, goods were delivered and put away, customers were assisted. I took a break and turned on my phone.

The sense of hope began to unravel. There were messages and alerts. A mob, thousands strong, had, under the instigation of the President and other speakers at a rally, marched to and stormed our nation's Capital building. Members of our House of Representatives were forced to lie on the floor for safety until they, and members of the Senate, could be evacuated. Several said later they feared for their lives as the frenzied mob roamed and ransacked what is sometimes referred to as the temple of our Republic.

Although some fought valiantly, 60 were sent to hospitals with injuries, several members of the police seemed complacent as the mob, mostly white, rampaged. The National Guard had to be deployed by the Vice President as the President phoned Congressmen during the melee, still asking them to overturn the election and tweeting "I love you, You're very special" to the rioters attempting to stage a violent coup. 

Only once before has our Capital building been defiled in this way, in retaliation for our actions in 1814 when we were at war with another country. Now, it appeared, we were at war with ourselves. Followers of an obviously insane "messiah" battling those who honor decency and peace, those who want to live in a country that values kindness, a country where many want to work for the good of all it's people. 

That night, as Congress reconvened, some that had sought to contest the results of the election had stepped down from their bully pulpit. They had witnessed, first hand, what awaited the country if they continued forward with their platform of division and hate. 6 dead, one of them a police officer murdered by a blow to the head from a fire extinguisher, the Capital littered. A poignant photo went viral of a member of the House picking up refuse from a hallway at 1 a.m.

Still, over 100 members of Congress voted in the aftermath of the attack to contest the election, refusing to recognize or take responsibility for their actions. Say their names, do not forget.