Coronavirus19 Diary - Unity

I think back on election night 2016, watching with horror and dismay as the results came in and it became apparent that, because of the antiquated Electoral College, a person totally unfit for the position  was to become the President of the United States. I, like a number of others, consoled myself with the belief that the law of the land and our well realized system of checks and balances would keep him from doing too much harm. We have come to discover that he, and an entire political party, have no respect for either. 

This past week I watched with hope and cautious optimism as the Democrats held their virtual convention. The message of unity and inclusion helped heal a small part of the emotional wound within me. We, as a country, are tired, masked, unmasked, confused and confounded. Many are financially devastated. Our systems are broken, our economy shattered. We are divided by fear, distrust and hate. Our problems are many, the solutions coming from our present leader misguided and few. 

On the final night of the convention the man asking for our vote spoke of working together to move us to a brighter future. We are in a dark time, but, we have experienced dark times before and have always  emerged from them. We have fought civil and cultural wars and survived intact. 

Some rail about socialism and the imagined evils associated with it, refusing to acknowledge that police, fire departments, national infrastructure and public schools are paid for, yet not equally used, by all. Socialism is sharing. If you have more than you need you reach out and help someone who does not. The union creates strength, a bond. It is the moral, or if you like, Christian, thing to do. Will there be a financial benefit to those who give? Probably not. Will there be an emotional one? I would hope so.

By working together, by sharing the responsibility, by unifying, we can make it through these dark times. We can re earn the respect of the rest of the world. We can be an example of how a nation, smashed to pieces, can be reassembled into a thing of beauty. 

Coronavirus19 Diary - My Front Yard

 It's across the street from our apartment. A vacant lot really, it's sandwiched between two of the highrises that line Sheridan Road in Chicago's Edgewater district. A concrete walkway runs down the center. Lawn flanks the walkway on either side. There are a half dozen benches, surprisingly comfortable. 10 or 12 trees are spread out, each ringed with a circle of stones at their base. At one end limestone boulders tumble into the blue waters of Lake Michigan. 

It is serene, by city standards. Traffic is a gentle rush. It's mixed with the noise of construction, providing the bass tones of the city's symphony. There is the occasional honk of geese flying by in their V formation. Butterflies float by, small birds hop through the grass, people sit, appropriately distant from one another in these times or walk dogs, enjoying the short season of Chicago sun. 

Technically part of the lakefront, during the height of the lock down it was closed off. Open now it has become a place of refuge. A place to read, write or simply quietly contemplate. It has become my front yard, the difference being that when it snows I won't have to shovel it.

Coronavirus 19 Diary - Rights and Responsibilities

 I am laid off. I have lots of time on my hands. I am living through a deeply historic period in both my country's and the worlds history. So, I catch odd bits and pieces of things, moments I might miss if I was working. Stomach turning Trump press conferences, talking head round table discussions on the talking points of the day. And, more recently, appearances by the Democratic presidential nominee Joe Biden. His introduction of Kamala Harris as his running mate gave me hope, for the first time in a very long time. His remarks the next day on mask wearing were those of a leader and a patriot, one who truly cares about and for his country.

As he spoke he stated mask wearing is not about your rights, it is about your responsibility. A sense of responsibility, this seems to be one thing in short supply during these times. The current occupant of the White House refuses to take any responsibility for the handling of the virus or the shattering of the economy. The economy, what Trump once touted as his greatest achievement, revealed to be for many a fragile thing, a house of cards. Much of the population jobless, once proud middle class people lining up for hours at food banks, while the extremely wealthy make billions, that's correct billions, as their fellow citizens suffer.They see no responsibility to share these earnings with those less fortunate, or even those that they employ.

The looters take no responsibility for their vandalism and theft. Their families take no responsibility by not questioning where the new, expensive shoes they are wearing came from. Some spokesmen, not all, of the BLM movement suggest that these stolen items are reparations, payback for years of racism, instead of denouncing the looting as an irresponsible act.

Tens of thousands of motorcycle enthusiasts converge on the small town of Sturgis, not wearing masks, irresponsibly putting not only those that call the town home at risk but also those in their own home towns when they return. Politicians irresponsibly send children back to school sans masks or social distancing, putting them, and those that teach them at risk. Denial of a potentially deadly kind.

When the pandemic began there was a catch phrase, "We're all in this together", although we never truly were. My state locked down for 3 and a half months. Our consistent, relatively low positivity rate, despite the irresponsible behavior of some, and phased reopening was the right thing to do. It was difficult, it cost us business and jobs, making glaringly apparent our decades of irresponsible behavior regarding the way we care for our citizens during times of crisis. Other states either did not lock down at all or for a much briefer period, throwing the doors open too early, allowing the virus to spread across them. 

A vaccine is, at best, 4 months away. Patience is what is needed. There will still be sacrifices but if we truly are all in this together what we give up now will aid the future. 

Show compassion, show concern, wear a mask, It's our responsibility.

Coronavirus19 Diary - An Almost Normal Day

The Art Institute, it is one of Chicago's great treasures, indeed, a national one. It to, is plagued by the virus which continues to ravage our country, as well as the world. Shuttered for several months it has just reopened. Albeit with some areas closed, greatly reduced opening hours and 50% of it's former staff. The other 50%, like so many others, laid off, jobless in an unwelcoming employment market. 

Presently unemployed myself I decided to take a break from pursuing job boards and with a friend that is retired, pay it a visit. We have a membership, surprisingly affordable, and generally go 4 to 5 times a year. 

There is an exhibition of the works of El Greco, 4 years in the making. The exhibit, already scheduled to close, was extended. The museum went into it's dormant state just 7 days after it had opened. They were able to extend the loans of the works, gathered from collections around the world. After all, I thought, where would they return them to? Another shuttered museum? While not a huge favorite of mine I knew that it would be my only opportunity to see some of the pieces in the exhibition. 

We arrived at the museum during the first hour which was reserved for members only.With safety protocols and capacity limits in place we gave my name and phone number at the entrance of the special exhibition galleries and wandered other portions of the massive cultural treasure trove, my friend remarked that it was impossible to be bored there, while waiting for a text informing us that we would be the next to enter. 

I have another friend, we have known him for over 20 years, who works in installations at the museum. I reconnected with him a few years back at the neighborhood gym. I once asked him what it was like to hang a Monet, "You get used to it", he replied. He is extremely well educated when it comes to art, surrounded by it during every work day. He mentioned that they had rehung the El Greco show to allow for social distancing. 

A couple of days earlier he had sent, through Messenger, a photo of a newly exhibited Keith Haring work. He mentioned that a Basquait was displayed in the same space. We headed to gallery 293. The large, fantastic, almost garish in a good way, Basquait takes up one wall. The Haring is on the opposite wall  Two large Haring designed terra cotta urns sit to one side of it. The urns, the friend told me, had been in storage "forever". 

We pondered what else remains in storage that we don't see. Over the years I have discovered works pulled from the deepest recesses of the vaults during special exhibitions. There are always surprises in the prints an drawings galleries. Works on paper cannot be displayed for more than 90 days due to their fragility. We discussed what these two artists might have created had they lived. Both died quite young, Haring from AIDS, Basquait from a heroin overdose at the age of 27. 

Our number came up and we returned to the entrance of the special exhibition galleries and entered the dark world of El Greco. Biblical scenes abound. In an example of savvy middle ages marketing, the painter would sometimes paint copy after copy of a work to create name recognition and a more affordable, "mass produced" product. Several examples of these are displayed side by side. 

We discussed the wealth of the Catholic church. Many of his works were commissioned for cathedrals, chapels and other religious spaces. He once had a Cardinal as a patron, living in the Cardinal's palace. A Cardinal having a palace itself a comment on religious priorities. 

Before we left we spent a few minutes in the Asian galleries, amazed at the age of the pieces, some over 3000 years old. My museum "eye in the sky" has told me that the museum wants to expand these galleries as there are thousands more pieces in storage. Plans were being worked on for an expansion pre pandemic.

As we returned home, masked and socially distanced on the capacity limited bus, my friend said it had almost, almost, felt like a normal day. 

Coronavirus19 Diary - Moments

There are moments that happen now that restrictions have been lifted some. There is a tiny park across the street from us. Cordoned off for months as it was technically part of the closed down lakefront, it is once again accessible. I sit on a bench in the hot morning sun and gaze out on the lake. The sun sparkles on the small crests of the ripples which move across the water. Lake Michigan changes color. This day it is a light blue, two shades darker than the pale blue sky above. In the distance, on a horizon streaked with clouds so thin they are almost opaque, three sailboats glide by.

Although the beaches are closed there is a spot on the grass overlooking the lake, about a 25 minute walk from our apartment, where people gather, with appropriate social distancing. It feels good to be among people, even though we need to stay a standard 6 feet away from each other.

But today it is hot and humid. It will perhaps be the hottest day so far this year. So I opt for the tiny park, close to home, where I can quickly seek respite when the baking Midwest sun becomes too much to bear.

Coronavirus19 Diary - Anger

It is the anger which disturbs me most. A world wide pandemic, an opportunity for U.S. citizens to band together, to show support and compassion for others even though isolated from one another. A chance for our increasingly online society to use social media to truly connect at a time when we needed to be physically distant.

But there was no calm, reasoned voice. There was no leader to unify us. States were left on their own to attempt to control a virus that does not respect borders. Locked down states fumed at those with more lenient guidelines. Maskers tempers flare when confronted with those that chose not to wear them. Anti maskers deride those wearing them, calling them sheep....or worse. Armed rebels storm state capitols demanding their perceived rights to return to a pre pandemic time, ignoring reality, and by doing so delaying a future return to more normalcy.

Although it has been ascertained that the mass protests, most peaceful, did not contribute to a surge in cases, there to the message was sheathed in anger. End systemic racism and defund the police were shouts heard through out the gatherings. What was missing were detailed, concrete, workable, fair and just proposals to address these, as well as a myriad of other issues which our country needs to confront. Some took advantage of the anger, fueling the violence we witnessed that first weekend. They deface and topple statues and monuments not seeming to understand that you cannot erase history. But, if you care to study, you can learn from it.

There seems to be a lack of interest in history among many of the young people of today. As advances in technology move at an ever faster pace what happened 15 minutes ago becomes irrelevant. The young are justly angry. Saddled with life long student debt, falling financially behind the generation before them they witness the destruction of the society, economy and ecosystem they are inheriting. Yet, in Chicago, the small surge we have seen in  recent days coincides with the reopening of bars. A third of the new cases are identified as young people in a nightlife heavy neighborhood. Fun first, solutions later, if we get around to them.

We are all justifiably angry. Spending weeks confined to our homes and apartments, many of us unable to work, this period was, for many reasons, an opportunity squandered. Instead of embracing and comforting one another we continued to squabble, fight and argue, spurred on by the division sowed in the last few years.

Maybe in the back of my mind, that tiny bit that has not surrendered to cynicism, where the remains of my naivete dwell, the place where you can still find that thing some refer to as idealism, I had hoped for seismic change, perhaps I will have to settle for an incremental one. 










Maybe, in the back of my mind, that tiny bit where my naivete

Coronavirus19 Diary - Hope Springs Eternal (I Hope)

At least in my home state we're coming round the bend. Deaths and infection rates are falling. Unfortunately, due to an  inadequate federal response from the beginning, this slow but steady recovery is not being experienced nationwide. As cases and positivity rates rise we have been banned from much international travel. Our country is viewed, by many, as third world. Run by a mad man, many citizens, once holding on to a semblance of middle class status, sliding into poverty. We have become deeply divided by income and ideology, and, we are equipped with enough weapons to make these divisions deadly. It is almost as if the pandemic has taken the U.S. and shook it out like a rug, racism , hatred and anger falling out from the pile and forming a disheartening medley of debris on the ground. We the people becoming me the people. Division being sowed by the highest levels of our government. During these times, when we should have been united, with compassion for one another, I watch as many attempt to scramble to the top, stepping and crawling over those beneath them. The common decency of wearing a mask  to protect the health of others becoming a political act.

Yet, for all this, the future is not entirely without hope. Science, medicine and time have controlled disease in the past. There is a world wide effort by science and medicine to control, or even defeat this one. And we the people still have the power of the vote, which is now as important as any time in our nation's history. We the people need to step up to the responsibility of this precious and valuable right. We the people need to use it's power to recreate a nation of compassion and equality, making America great again.