The Sunday paper featured a full-page ad celebrating seniors. I was like, wow, how’d they get my name?
Upon further reflection, I realized they meant graduating seniors. Not older folks like us. Bummer.
Don’t get me wrong. I love young people and can’t imagine how hard this year has been for them. Hell, yes, celebrate their achievements! No generational warfare from me.
While some may find retirees disposable, we make important contributions to the economy – contributions that help support everyone. Even without a job, we still pay income tax on the money we withdraw from our IRAs. If we own a home, we pay property taxes and fees associated with funding schools and other community assets. Even on a fixed-income, many of us support local food banks and other charitable causes.
Not to mention the many contributions retirees make by volunteering, sharing their knowledge, connecting with their families or just being cool, interesting people.
The economy needs us, but we need the economy to thrive, too. Not just for us, but also for all the young people who have miles to go in their journeys through life. I support careful re-opening as we learn to manage the risks associated with COVID-19. A vibrant economy is good for all of us, but that doesn’t mean older people have to be first ones in the pool.
Dale and I have loosened up a bit on grocery store visits – quick trips with masks and social distancing. Plenty of hand-washing afterward. I’m playing golf – outdoors wearing a mask when I use the restroom or anticipate a close encounter. No chit-chat. Plenty of hand-washing afterward.
No mass gatherings, no travel, no restaurants.
Some people have asked why I wear a mask. I have a new response that is working well. I say, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m at higher risk than many.” I’m not even sure that’s true, but it stops almost everyone. Only one person asked why, and I said medical history. No more questions after that.
This article by Erin Bromage, Ph.D, of UMass Dartmouth, has been out there since May, but I keep returning to read it. Dale and I found it very helpful as we learn to navigate our new reality.
A piece of bench I scavenged from last year’s fire on stand-by for a yard art project.
An arachnoid presence
While you have been studying Renaissance art or harvesting yeast from the backyard, I’ve been busy doing important things like playing an epic game of Spider Solitaire.
For those who are familiar with Spider, I play with four suits and choose only games at the Grandmaster level. I have one goal – win all games. Purists will have to close their eyes, but that means I use the undo feature with wild abandon. Since adopting this approach, I have not lost a game.
My last attempt was a test of moral strength. Undo, undo, undo. Nothing I tried was working. The game automatically saves, so I’d just close it after a good butt-kicking and then go back to it the next day. I am proud to say I won it yesterday after – hold the applause please – 33 hours, 14 minutes and 23 seconds.
Spider is a good way to waste time, but I like to believe it’s also good for the brain and soul. If you believe all games are winnable, then you keep going until you win. Sometimes my original assumptions don’t hold up, and I have to abandon them for new strategies that are often counter-intuitive. Are there parallels between Spider and real life?
Yes. In the words of the Canadian philosopher, Corey Hart, Never Surrender.
More yard art, please
Now that my brain is freed up from the tyranny of Spider, I’m starting a new art project. Many of you know I’m not much of an artist, but I’ve been experimenting in retirement and boldly display my work here. I’m particularly fond of Gladys, the sun goddess I rescued from heaps of rust. Her smiling face watches over us.
I have this piece of bench from the fire a year or so ago (when all those cute firemen showed up). This is actually my neighbor’s debris that I scavenged from a pile headed for the dump. While creating beauty seems like a natural antidote for our current reality, I’m open to ugly.
This morning, I woke up thinking whatever I do with this piece of bench will somehow be an expression of my feelings about the pandemic. I have no idea what that means in terms of a deliverable, as we used to say at work, but I’m going to try and let my emotions flow.
Less whining, more wine
We drove out to our favorite Amador County winery. The tasting room isn’t open, but someone is there, and you can purchase bottles. We were only going to get six, but all wine was 40 percent off, so we doubled that. We wore masks, and they added a plastic shield over the wine bar, so it seemed like a pretty benign process.
I asked the guy who works there what phase they were in as far as opening, and he just laughed. No idea.
Golf or something like it
I’ve decided golf is reasonably safe, at least the way I do it … only courses where I can walk with my personal pushcart. I have three masks at the ready. One for the beginning, when people are waiting to tee off. One for the turn, when I use the restroom. And one for the end, when people are gathered in the parking lot. I steer clear of everyone and keep hand sanitizer in my bag.
The CDC is saying the virus isn’t easily spread through surfaces, so that’s promising. But just in case, I grabbed a stack of scorecards with a tissue and took them home to “cool off” in the garage.
I played with the women’s league last Wednesday. My favorite guy was at the cash register and asked me how things were going. I said, “Oh, you know, living the dream, drinking the bleach.” We had a good low-emission chuckle (not the bad droplet-spreading laugh).
During play, I had to ask one of my partners to back off. She looked at me with surprise, like I was making this up. She said, “Do you know anyone who has the virus?”
My response?
“No, but I’ve had cancer twice, and I know what it’s like to be sick and face death. I’m not taking any chances.”
In conclusion
I continue to be amazed by all the conspiracy theories floating around about this virus. I wonder if people believe this stuff because no one believes the news anymore, and science is for sissies.
One thing confirmed for me through this pandemic is that we are in big trouble when everything you know you read on Facebook. The anti-intellectuals seem to be winning.
I’m no stable genius, but I’m starting to think basic intelligence is my super power.
Special items I purchased for pandemic walking include a lightweight mask and a hip belt that holds my phone, hand sanitizer and water.
If you like to walk or walk because what else can you do in the middle of a pandemic or you must walk in order to get where you’re going, my guess is you probably want to live through it. With potentially contagious neighbors out and about, bigger cars, distracted drivers and pedestrian fatalities on the rise, negotiating the streets or trails on foot is risky.
Although I’m retired now and walk for pleasure, I commuted by bus and foot to my job in Silicon Valley. I walked to the Caltrain station from my home to catch the bus and then hopped off a mile or so from my work location to get some exercise, repeating the route at the end of the day. I left my home in darkness, and in the winter months, I returned in darkness.
Safety was and is my number one priority. As a two-time cancer survivor, I’m tough to kill, but I am not going to make it easy for anyone. I live in a suburban area and average about five miles a day on routes that include sidewalks, crosswalks and off-road trails.
Here are my 10 tips for safe walking:
You never know what’s going to happen out there. Wear some sort of a pack, if possible, so you can keep your hands free and eyes on the road. I wear a FlipBelt that holds my phone, hand sanitizer and a small bottle of water.
Current evidence suggests you don’t need to wear a mask when exercising outdoors as long as you keep a proper social distance. While six feet is the standard, I double that during exercise. When it’s crowded out there, I wear a mask. I like the ExerMask from Happi Mask Co. If you don’t wear the mask, keep one in your pack in case you encounter an unusual situation requiring extra protection.
Pay attention. Observe your surroundings. See who is coming ahead of you, and turn around periodically to see who is coming in from behind. Give people, dogs and snakes a wide berth. Stand to the side as far as is safe and let everyone pass. Wait until they’ve gone at least 12 feet before getting back on the path.
Assume cars have the right-of-way no matter what. Sure, the law says cars must yield to pedestrians, but you can’t assume they will, even if you have the signal to go. Look both ways before crossing. Pay special attention to cars on your side of the street, to your left, making a right turn in front of you.
Do not assume drivers see you. Make eye contact with drivers before crossing. Wave to get their attention. I do not recommend thumping the hood of their cars. People do not take kindly to such gestures.
Cross only when the signal indicates. Use your elbow to push the pedestrian button and avoid crossing on a “stale green.” That’s when the clock is counting down, and you may not have enough time to cross safely. Even if you’re super fit, you never know. You might trip or stumble.
Don’t wear ear buds or headphones. Practice situational awareness. Pay attention to the sounds of the street. Cyclists who ride on the sidewalk are a particular nuisance for walkers and runners, but it’s hard to be mad when they’re just trying to have fun and be safe. Listen for them and get out of the way.
Don’t use your cell phone unless it’s an emergency or you’ve stopped in a safe place. Walking and talking is not a good idea, especially when you’re crossing the street.
Wear well-fitting walking shoes (not flip flops or high heels) and add reflective gear at dawn, dusk or at night. If you’re on a budget, orange safety vests and reflective straps are inexpensive. When I was commuting, I wore a full front-and-back vest with blinking LED lights that went over the outside of my pack.
Don’t yell or use hand gestures to express your frustration with bad drivers. You goal is to stay safe and healthy, and you just never know how people will react. Smile and wave when drivers do the right thing.
Even though I am super-vigilant, I’ve had a couple of close calls out there and find that taking precautions and giving up ear buds isn’t all that bad when you consider the alternative.
I’m gathering quite a collection of masks, and a friend suggested I start posting pictures of them as a fashion statement … to show it’s not such a big deal in the grand scheme of things. Dale and I went to the grocery store today, so I thought I’d make an effort to look stylish.
That’s my hair up in a big sock bun, along with the gorgeous turquoise earrings I bought in Texas. Back when I had cash flow. My sister made the mask. There’s a pocket for a coffee filter. I added a rouge glow to the photo for artistic effect.
It is weird to capture an image of the face without seeing the mouth. Eyes alone can look quite menacing. I tried smiling underneath, but it didn’t seem to make a difference.
It’s funny. I spent years trying to figure out how to smile for the camera, and now I guess I’ll have to figure out how to make expressions with my eyes. My glasses look almost boring, but maybe a minimalist canvas is a good place to start.
Those who wear contact lenses could have fun with decorative eyewear. Perhaps a contrasting scarf tied around the neck almost like a choker? So many things to think about!
I’m prepared to wear a mask in public as long as necessary. I understand fashion designers are getting on board, and there will be lots of choices! I actually enjoyed trying to accessorize with the mask in mind and am looking forward to my next photo shoot.
As a retiree and semi-recluse, the “stay at home” mandate has not been much of a problem. I don’t even have to create excuses anymore. Years ago, I might have said, “I have to wash my hair.” Now I would probably say, “I have to cut my hair.” Not so different after all.
While the weight of the pandemic hits me at odd moments and leaves me feeling sad and angry, most of the time I’m pretty chill. I don’t have a big agenda and don’t monitor my productivity. Aside from chores, I pretty much focus on the simple pleasures that make me happy … reading, walking, cooking, movies and TV.
I’ve started to play a little golf and have fielded a few invitations. This was my response to the latest:
I’m erring on the side of caution and only playing on courses I know reasonably well, where I can walk and where they have documented procedures for reduced touch points, increased social distancing, modified rules, etc. Since I haven’t played that course before, I’ll have to pass this time around. But thanks for thinking of me! I’m open to other courses.
I’ve got my cannabis plant to nurse along, and I have been doing some light handheld weights since the gym closed, but it’s not like I’m not learning to speak Swahili or alphabetizing the appliance manuals. Most of our groceries we order online for curbside pick-up, but we have started to go into the store about every two weeks. We wear masks and try to get in and out of there quickly without any close encounters of the worst kind.
In some ways I feel more peaceful, living day-to-day and trying not to think about the future. Honestly, our highest priority is food and booze, so we do have to plan ahead, but I’ve actually become fond of online shopping. We eat just about everything … nothing diet, not too much and we make almost everything from scratch.
I read where the NY Times health columnist Jane Brody treats herself to ¼ cup of light ice cream, and possibly a graham cracker, and I just can’t get that out of my head. How miserable is that?
People are itchy to go back to normal. I will go out on a limb and suggest some people have different ideas about how this virus behaves, they don’t believe it’s as bad as all that or they are willing to take their chances. Others absolutely need to get back out there and earn a living.
Even as economies open, Dale and I have decided we’re not going to be the guinea pigs. Being retired is a privilege, an earned privilege for sure, but we have the ability to stay home and will continue to do our best to ride this out in safety.
Sporting my new Scrabble-themed mask as I head to the library for curbside pick-up.
Thanks to my exceptionally kind and talented sister, I am feeling quite stylish in my new Scrabble mask. I thought it would be fun to wear as I go to the library today for curbside pick-up of a book I had on reserve.
I don’t have a problem wearing a mask for my personal safety and the safety of others, and I have a hard time understanding those who do. Whatever it takes … that’s my thinking. Embrace reality and try not to disrespect the people who are trying to save us.
It seems like I’ve mentioned this before, but I will share it again. When I had cancer the first time, my chemotherapy regime was hard on the kidneys. My medical team said to drink a lot of water. So, you know what I did? I drank a lot of water.
When I talked with other women in the infusion room, I’d ask if they were drinking their water. It shocked me how many said no. One common response was, “I don’t like water.”
I wanted to scream, “This is your life! Who cares if you don’t like water?”
Anyway, pardon the commercial interruption. Be safe. May you continue to find joy in simple pleasures … even if it’s just a Scrabble mask.
Sometimes it feels like my range of thoughts and emotions is increasingly smaller, less invigorating, numbing.
It’s not as though my life was filled with a cornucopia of exciting activities before the lockdown began, but that was by design. I don’t want an action-packed life. Still, the simple things I used to do with my time and micro-interactions with people kept me interested and interesting. I had lots of things to write about.
My brain can only hold so much, and my “interested and interesting” brain cells went on idle to make room for COVID-19, a bad tenant trashing the cheap real estate in my head. I want to evict him and make room for happy and creative thoughts.
Sadly, COVID-19, in some form or fashion, is most likely here for the long haul … which means I can’t completely evict him from my brain. My goal is to lock him in the basement and only let him out when I need critical information.
Perhaps we can all free up happy space in our brains as we get closer to a new normal that in some way approximates how we used to live. I feel like we’re on the cusp of getting some of it back.
Social animals may not find the new normal acceptable, but I can see how it might work for us. Dale and I don’t do large gatherings anyway. Our “normal” includes trips to the grocery store, golf, wine tasting. The occasional road trip.
Seriously, I could wear a mask and be socially distant forever if I have to. Masks are cool. Have you noticed the anti-aging effects? It’s like wrinkles be gone. You’ll look 10 years younger!
I’ve been dodging walkers, runners, bicyclists and even a snake while taking my daily walk. The snake was just crossing the sidewalk and wasn’t threatening, but he was big. I mentioned the snake to Dale, and he asked what kind of snake it was.
Dude, you know I’m bad at nature identification. All I know is snake, snaky?
Six feet of social distancing didn’t seem like enough what with all the huffing and puffing going on, so I doubled that. Sometimes that meant going out in the street, which is dangerous in its own right.
Today I decided to try wearing a homemade mask on my 5-mile loop. This one is a no-sew made from a cut up t-shirt and rubber bands over the ears. Guess what? I love it!
My glasses did fog slightly on the inhale, but they cleared completely on the exhale. Yes, it was a little sweaty in there, but it didn’t bother me at all. The sweat that might have dripped down my face got absorbed by the mask. And there’s yet another bonus …
Normally my nose runs constantly. Even with all the warnings about not touching your face, I had to keep a stash of tissues in my pocket and blow quietly when no one was around. While wearing the mask, my nose did not run! I couldn’t believe it.
I also liked the psychological aspects of wearing a mask. Not that I believe it will save me under the wrong conditions, but it feels more assertive. As in, I’m not just a scared victim. I’m paying attention and doing whatever it takes to avoid getting this virus.
It reminds me of when I had cancer and chose not to wear a wig when all my hair fell out from chemo. I thought, this is what cancer looks like. This virus is our reality, just as cancer was mine, and I believe there are some behaviors that scream, “I want to survive!”
In other positive news, for 30 years or more we’ve been mixing an imported brand of pre-ground coffee with what local beans we can find. We used up the imported coffee and can’t get anymore, so we made a pot with just the beans.
The coffee is delicious! We’re ruined and can’t go back to the other stuff … just another unexpected perk when you’re living the COVID-19 lifestyle.
The only problem is we’re a little loopy after more than a month in lockdown. This morning I turned on the the pot, went back to get a cup and realized we hadn’t put the water in. I put the water in and sat back down.
Then I went back to get a cup, and there was a pot of hot water sitting there. I guess we forgot to put the coffee in. Third time was the charm. I’m not sure who was in charge of setting up the pot, but I still wondered if Dale was annoyed.
I asked, “Are you mad at me?”
He said, “No, not at all! I haven’t been mad at you in … well … days.”
We both thought that was hilarious. But we’re in the giddy phase of grief now, so pretty much everything is funny.
A snip from our online order at a local grocery store. Cocktail peanuts, because you know … cocktails, peanuts.
I’m not feeling particularly creative, but I feel good and thought I’d share an update. So far, we’ve avoided bad craziness. But there’s still time.
We converted to online grocery shopping. Dale is not happy about it, but we made the decision together. While the precautions we took last time might be adequate, we decided it isn’t worth the risk.
One of my favorite songs is “Fort Worth Blues” by Steve Earle. It’s a tribute to Townes Van Zandt, a musician who passed away relatively young after many years of substance abuse. There’s a line referring to death, but I think it also applies to life during these strange times:
Somewhere up beyond the great divide
Where the sky is wide and the clouds are few
A man can see his way clear to the light
Just hold on tight
That’s all you gotta do
I keep thinking just hold on tight, that’s all we gotta do. We are safe at home until the worst is over. We’re the lucky ones, and I can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am. Although I’m no Mother Teresa, I made another donation to the food bank and will most likely give more throughout the year. I don’t see how I can’t.
Dale was the principal shopper prior to the pandemic, but he doesn’t want much to do with online shopping. I thought maybe he would get into it, but that has not been the case. I’m doing it in consultation with him about brands, quantities, etc.
I ended up ordering from three different services. Two are pick-ups at local grocers, and one is a delivery from Amazon Fresh. You have to reserve a time for pick-up at the local stores, and that’s running about 5-7 days out. That hasn’t been a problem, since we keep a lot of food around anyway. The window for Amazon Fresh was much quicker – two days.
Substitutions are part of the deal for all these stores, but I don’t care. I did opt out of substitutions for a couple of things – cat food, because we have a picky eater, and he only likes prime filets. I also opted out of a certain kind of sausage we prefer, assuming it’s not essential, and we probably wouldn’t like the substitute.
This sucks but actually doesn’t bother me all that much. I remember when I had cancer the first time – 1999 – and there was a high probability I would die. The most optimistic five-year survival rate was 40 percent. The majority relapsed within two years.
I tried to think of cancer as an adventure, but I had to adjust to so many changes, and it wasn’t exactly what I would call a fun adventure. Even when I was on the mend, I knew the statistics and spent five years not knowing if the treatment worked. Wondering if I would die. So, what’s a couple of months locked up in a comfy house knowing the statistics are quite possibly on my side this time?
With cancer, there was virtually no way to mitigate my risk, but now I know what to do. Stay home. I have enough to keep me amused.
The hardest part is dealing with each other’s expectations. We still like each other, but we’ve taken to not talking much during the day. He does his thing, and I do mine. I guess it gives us our space. Then we start chatting away at happy hour, just like we used to.
Although I am taking walks, I’m keeping my distance. I don’t touch anything, and I don’t touch my face. I wash my hands as soon as I get home. Our town’s population is about 45,000. Definitely not rural, but not the big squished-together urban scene, either. We have lots of walking paths, and it’s easy to keep my distance from anyone I encounter. Being outside and seeing nature at work is comforting.
I have several different routes. Some shorter, some longer, depending on how my body feels. My longer route is a five-mile loop, and I was thinking it might be kind of cool to work up to 10 miles. But I didn’t think my bladder would hold. Then it occurred to me I could do the five-mile loop, stop at the house to use the restroom, and then do the loop again.
Of course, we’re both in a funk of sorts. I had a meltdown about a week ago and have since felt reasonably calm and content. It was during the meltdown I said, “I’m just gonna go outside and ask people to spit on me.” I call that my rock bottom, and it has been nothing but up since.
Dale doesn’t do meltdowns, but I would say his low point was after we got back from the grocery store, because that was his happy place, and it’s not anymore. It also turns out Dale is much more extroverted than I am. He misses even the smallest interactions with clerks and neighbors.
We’ve talked through it, not without pain mind you, but we’re still a unit, committed to getting through this healthy, happy and together. I read about relationships being stressed right now, and my favorite line was something like this:
Don’t search for the perfect partner. Try to be the perfect partner.
I could tell Dale needed some comfort food and suggested burgers. We have everything for that, and he jumped right on it. We’re taking an indulgence break and will have burgers tonight. Then it’s back to broccoli on Friday.
We talked about playing board games, and I did an inventory of our toy chest:
Risk
Monopoly
Othello
Scrabble
Yahtzee
Backgammon
Dominoes
Pente
Cribbage
Most of these have been sitting idle for some time. This might be the 70s talking, but I don’t remember anything about Othello or Pente. Dale doesn’t like Scrabble or Yahtzee, my two favorites, so we’re going to start with backgammon. We used to play a lot and have a beautiful board we bought in Egypt. We’ll need to brush up on the rules.
We both used to like cribbage, but his mother was a fanatic, and we both got burned out on it during one of her visits many years ago. Perhaps enough time has passed that we can try it again.
Other unexpected items that showed up in the toy chest during my inventory include:
German flag
Survival cards
Mexican game with cup and ball on a string
Multiple decks of playing cards
Phantom of the Opera mask
Latin dictionary
Arabic at a glance
English-French dictionary
Eisenhower postage stamps
How about you? Are you playing any games while in confinement? What’s in your toy chest?
