11 Months into the Pandemic

Eleven months into the pandemic and we are seeing both a light at the end of the tunnel and a road block. It is very frustrating.

Ashley is back to living on campus. In the first week they have had one positive case amongst 1,215 students. Don and I have vaccine appointments scheduled -- me for a week from today, his four weeks from today. 

Nearly a year into this and indoor dining has finally increased to 35% in New Jersey. How are local restaurants ever going to survive?

I realized I miss conversations. Real, face-to-face conversations. It is rare I see people in person, and when I do we keep it short and mask-covered. Phone calls are not easy, either. They involve a complicated back and forth of scheduling a time. Enough already! Let's just talk! When I do call someone, they are too busy to talk, so it doesn't happen.

All this makes me draw further inward.

Other factors adding to feeling isolated:

1) The weather -- it has been a very grey winter with lots of snow, making the fire pit chats less appealing.

2) Politics -- Trump's acquital, though expected, was still frustrating. The case against him was terrific. Right after voting to acquit him, Mitch McConnell said he was definitely guilty and should be tried by the Justice Department. He couldn't vote to convict him because he was already out of office. He was in charge of deciding they couldn't have a trial while he was in office because there wasn't enough time before inauguration day. Meanwhile, he only needed eight days to vote in a new Supreme Court Justice, so time was not the factor.

3) Even after being vaccinated, we are still being told to stay home and wear masks, which makes this feel endless. 

I know I have a lot more thoughts on this time. I'll try to add to them later.

Freshman Move in Day -- the Second Edition

Back in August after we moved Ashley into her dorm Ruby the Honda CRV gasped its last bit of life on our drive home. The night before it was time to move Ashley back into college for the Spring semester we joked about that time, relieved we wouldn't have that experience again.

The joke was on us. The morning of the full spring move in (back in November we had to take EVERYTHING home because we didn't know where they would be living in the Spring, turns out she moved across the hall) Don ran a quick errand and the new-to-us Honda Element started spouting smoke.

Uh-oh.

Let's back up a bit. Due to COVID, everyone had to take a COVID test prior to moving in. The school provided kits with information on taking the spit test no more than 72 hours before moving onto campus and mailing it via pre-paid UPS box to the company for processing. 

Sounds simple enough. And it should have been.

Enter a massive winter storm dumping up to two feet of snow in New York (where the test processing center is located), and over much of the East Coast (where the students are from) that lasted from Sunday to Tuesday. Move in was scheduled over Thursday through Sunday. Let's add in another snow storm planned for Sunday. The result was most students seemed to move in on Saturday instead of spreading out over four days.

Smoking car. Don quickly drives our car to our mechanic at Firestone. They quickly identify the problem as being the caliper needing new calipers and new brakes. Meanwhile I call my parents and ask to borrow their car, which they agreed to. When I went to drive Veronica the convertible to their house I learned Veronica had a dead battery. 

Um, okay.

AAA said they could come out in 60 minutes (upped to 90 minutes). Dad drove his car to our house, and took mine to his house to let the battery run. Don's car became a rush job, miraculously they could get the part in record time. His car was fixed. We loaded the Ashleymobile (my old car) and his car in only a few minutes. Overall we were only 10 minutes late to check-in time, and were granted an extension in case we needed it. 

When Ashley made it to her floor a large cheer was heard outside, through the closed window. Her roommate left this sign on her bed:

In the COVID-era, sinks are assigned

Happy unpacking!

RIP Dana

Late last month I learned Dana died, not from COVID but from a series of ailments, some from birth, that never slowed him down.

I wrote on FB:

The world lost a good person this week.

Dana Swift 

and I met as teenagers living in Belgium. Thanks to him we kept in touch over the years. He had a solid heart. When he made a friend it was for life. I wish I had taken him up on his repeated efforts to reach out if I ever needed a friend. This is how I will always think of him 17-years old dressed in drag. Strutting to “My Girl,” a song I can’t hear without thinking of him. That and drinking lots of good beer. We were legal in Belgium.

There was so much more to say.

He taught me names are not gender-specific.

Dana was the first guy I met with the name "Dana." He told stories of being roomed with girls at a sleep away camp solely based on his name. 

He taught me not to use health as an excuse to not help people.

Dana was a paramedic, then a nurse (I believe). He went to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina and helped after 9/11. He hated having to give up his nursing career when his health made it too hard.

He taught me to not be afraid on stage.

The above picture of him dancing to "My Girl" says it all. During the same talent show we performed to Billy Joel's "Piano Man." One guess as to who played the lead. I was the "waitress who is practicing politics," while other friends acted out other parts.

He taught me to be a friend for life.

Dana really listened. We got together a few times since our return from Belgium. He lived near Binghamton, NY. A couple of times we got together when we drove through from Canada. Brief visits, but meaningful. One time we drove to his house to pick up a bike trailer Don used to haul mulch from the town compost. When you were with him, he gave his undivided attention. 

He told me a couple of times I could always reach out to him when I needed a friend. I wish I had.

Dana meant it when he said call anytime. Others may say that, but he lived that.

Many are grateful he lived long enough to usher in a new President because we knew that meant a lot to him.

Rest in Power, Dana. 

Letter to a Former Friend

Dear Former Friend,

Ouch! That sounds harsh, but true.

Before the pandemic struck we had a falling out. We were walking and talking, doing laps in a mall, when suddenly you stopped and stormed away from me. Though normally I am the faster of the two, I could not catch up to you as you ran away from me saying only "That was rude!" When I said something about you canceling on me ... again. 

Tonight as I as walking in the snow I realized I won't be able to get rid of the ache from our broken friendship until I write it down. I'd send you a letter, but my last words from me to you were "don't worry, you'll never hear from me again." That was 13 months ago. In Before Times.

As we live about 90 minutes apart, and are in different stages, our paths won't cross accidentally. If they did, maybe we would get over each of our pains. Maybe we could at least be acquaintances again. I know you are too stubborn to reach out to me since I also know you don't know how much you hurt me. 

Your last text to me (which I deleted when I blocked you) said you were hurt because I threw back at you one time you cancelled on me the time your son was in the hospital nearly dying, and that I am never, ever on time.

I won't even attempt to argue the last point. With you, my dear, I wasn't ever on time. For the past year I studied other relationships to figure out why. It would be easy to say because the drive was long and stressful (I used to think it was a 30 minute drive, turned out to be a 40 minute drive, after I figured that out I allowed more time). It would also be easy to say since you are always 15 minutes early even if I show up an acceptable two to three minutes late for an afternoon gathering, I am already late in your book.

What I realized watching my other friendships is that sometimes I'm the one early and the other person is late, and sometimes I am late and they are there first. You never allowed me the opportunity to be first. You also never asked if everything was okay. I don't hold it against my friends when I wait for them. I hope they don't hold it against me.

Even Don I realized with our friendship you had about an every-other-time cancellation rate. Something I never called you out on until that day in the mall. 

Half the time you would cancel our plans either the night before or the morning of. It got to the point I made a back-up set of plans so I didn't feel the day was wasted (our two to three hour visits on a weekend would be closer to four and a half factoring in travel time -- a big chunk of precious time). I also realized after you cancelled, I would be the one to reschedule. I was the one to initiate the get together. I was the one to graciously accept your excuse. I would be the one to reschedule. I can only remember a few times you initiated an online conversation with me. Perhaps once or twice you initiated the visit.

Then I would be late.

You see, my dear, in my heart I was never sure if we were really getting together that day, so I didn't fully carve out that time to be with you. Maybe at the last minute I had to take Ashley in the opposite direction, or I was low on gas, or something else popped up. I didn't text because for most of our friendship we both had flip phones and pay per text plans. Besides, you didn't text except to say you needed to reschedule.

I miss the good parts of our friendship. I miss those two to three hour visits when we'd both shut our phones off and give each other our undivided attention. I miss hearing about your life, and the lives of your family members. I miss that we both work in development and could understand and commiserate with each other's work stories. I miss telling you about Bridge.

When we were together it was great.

That was enough for me to accept your excuses for backing out on our plans. But when you wrote that last text thinking the worst in me -- that I would hold it over you because you cancelled when your son was near death -- that was the final straw.

Friends should think the best of each other. I know I tried.

I don't even recall which son was near death. For that I am sorry. The last time you cancelled on me was in August. You said your stomach was upset. I offered to get together later that day after you had a chance to eat to see how you felt. You agreed. A couple of hours later you said you still were not feeling well. So we skipped that visit. Was that code for your son was dying? Or were you really sick? I'll never know. I assumed it was that your stomach was upset.

A month later I suggested we get together, and we did. You were extra chipper that visit. At one point, though, you said a co-worker was sick and you weren't sure if we would be able to get together. I jokingly said "Don wondered if you'd cancel on me." That's when you stopped and ran off. You admitted you thought about postponing on me, yet were upset when I said it first.

Dear friend, things do come up. I never complained about your cancelling on me, but it would have been nice if you rescheduled since you were the one to cancel. Or sent me a follow-up message to say you were feeling better. 

Now that I've written this, hopefully I can release the bad feelings into the universe and move forward.

Love,

Your Former Friend