I'll Come Back To You One Day

Where has that old friend gone

Lost in a February song

Tell him it won't be long

'Til he opens his eyes

Opens his eyes 

Where is that simple day

Before colors broke into shades 

And how did I ever fade 

Into this life 

Into this life

And I never want to let you down 

Forgive me if I slip away

And all that I've ever known is lost and found

I promise you I

I'll come back to you one day

Josh Grobin

The days go by incredibly quick. Maybe that's because we're "older" now and that's what we've been promised all during our youth.  The minutes, hours and days slip by so much faster and with that disadvantage, come so many other advantages. I appreciate each day and look forward to the use of time in a  way I could never before have envisioned.

My friend Gail called earlier today.  Rarely does a day go by since the strict adherence to the rules of socials distancing and staying at home, when we do not hear the voice or see the face of a friend via one of the technological wonders of the time in which we live.  Together, we had a smile about how the media refers to us as "elder".  We're well about the line of demarcation.  We're being checked on by younger people who,  because of our age, are concerned about us.  How cute is that?  

While we are deeply moved by the concern of friends, family and neighbors, we really and truly want them to know that we are not to be worried about.  We have been through tough times and we have weathered storms. We are the children of the Greatest Generation. We have gone through the rabbit hole and come out the other side, more than once. And we did it without all the bells and whistles that the current crowd of younger people have at their disposal. We gave birth to the technologists.

We're not fading into this life.  We're not slipping away.  We're here, opening the eyes of those who are fearful, making extraordinary changes and using all that we have brought forth from our youthful days; knowledge, wisdom, experience.  We are the Greatest Generation of Children of the Greatest Generation. Trust us.

We'll come back. You'll come back. All that we have ever lost will one day be found. If only we have the trust in our capabilities, the patience to do what is required and the wisdom that was conferred upon us generations ago.  It will all come back to us one day.

Just trust us.

• 
  

Phone

One of the (and there are many) blessings that has come forth during this Pandemic is a re-visiting of some ancient arts.  Of those that had been hidden deepest in our past is the ancient art of verbal and written communication.  I daresay, my grandchildren are totally unfamiliar with what we used to call "telephones" and forget about "note paper" and "cards".  Their world, as they "knew" it, did not include old traditions and now, they are perhaps getting a glimpse of the world in which Nonni and Nonno grew up in.  They're probably feeling shocked and lost but a reality is a reality no matter how one tries to repaint the picture.

Reaching out and making a phone call feels so good.  I'm hearing from friends and neighbors that they have reconnected with people from all parts of the country and I don't mean via FaceBook.  People are making concerted efforts at learning technology that has allowed for real social contact, seeing faces of people on computer and phone screens and hearing voices on the phone, even if only to talk about the current situation.  Hopefully, we will move on to talk about current feelings, about love and friendship and peace and joy.  Eventually, we will settle into our new normal and talk about the horrors will fade purely out of boredom. We're human, after all, and the feelings of unity, peace and love, will distance just as they did following the World Trade Center events.  Sad, but true.

I have some old, disconnected phones here in the house.  One, I keep in the living room. I put it there after reading about the Phone On The Wind booth that was constructed in Provincetown. I haven't been there to use it.  My plans to do so were short-circuited by the current situation.

https://provincetown.wickedlocal.com/news/20200122/phone-booth-in-provincetown-connects-to-dead

I don't have a phone booth. Just an old blue Princess phone.  I've kept it there for the day I will call my mother and,  taking all the time that is needed, I tell her about the Pandemic of 2020, from Day One of my own personal recollection.  I will talk to her just as I did when she was alive and well, as if seven plus years have not flown by since our last Earthly conversation.  Then, I will listen. Carefully. Just as I did during those endless daily phone exchanges.  Agree or disagree, I will hang on every word, having the wisdom that I now own due to so many of her words.  She was wise and intuitive.  She would have done very well during this crisis.  I can almost predict what she would have said, for instance about the rise in the population that we are now experiencing due to people not taking the need to remain at home, their own home, seriously.  She put the words in my mouth at the moment it was announced that schools were closing and parents were working from home. "The cases will start to multiply here and people will think that the Cape is a safer place, forgetting that we have but two hospitals". Oh, there are so many similar conversations and so much wisdom. I just know that the day has come for that conversation.

It's Sunday, the "Family Day" of so long ago. An ancient ritual. A beautiful memory.
So, today, I will grab a glass of wine, cuddle up on the sofa that she and my father purchased for their very first home, and pick up the phone.

Here's how I am going to start......."God did not do this TO us.  He did it FOR us, don't ya think?"

I will let you know her answer and if you're smart, you will hang on every word.

Real

We awoke to a bit of terribly sad news yesterday.  It was our turn.  A cousin wrote an email informing us that our dear cousin, Edward, had succumbed the night before....to the Virus.  He was my mother's first cousin, aged 89 or 90, not sure.  An intelligent, well-informed, well-read, highly educated and amazing man.  A part of my own childhood.


https://patch.com/new-york/easthampton/montauk-sweethearts-married-39-years-share-secrets-longtime-love


This is real.

I try to refrain from using this blog as anything much more than a memoir piece, one that one day might capture the attention of great-grandchildren.  Surely, they will be curious about the "Virus of 2020"and might even want to know how we survived.  Or didn't. But, I can only stay quiet so long.

I'm worried.  Not about food shortages, not about having my freedom or independence taken away. I'm not concerned at all about staying put for the time being.  I know, in the end, it will all be worth the so-called "sacrifices".  I have hope for the future.  Our plans for an extended stay in Italy for December are still very much alive.  We can't wait to give hugs that are bigger than those we give regularly on a virtual platform.

I'm worried about the air that I am breathing. That I can't shield myself, no matter how hard I try.

I'm panic-stricken by the fact that I share it with people who have something much more shocking and much more devastating than a virus that one day, I am hopeful, we will overcome.

I'm shaking in my boots about breathing the same air with those people, who, despite all of the atrocities, hypocrisy, stupidity and utter shamless-ness, spewn forth on every media avenue but FOX NEWS,  (they only report the "real' news)  will follow the words of our president.

I owe this to you, Dearest Edward Porco. May you rest in peace and be in a better place for all eternity.  You have always had my respect and the love of our family.

God help us.

Mourning

Over and over and over in my head, I keep trying to remind myself of the belief that I have and always have had, in the "reason-for-everything" theory.  I hold that nothing happens for nothing and that in this world, everything and everyone has a purpose.

Having said that, it still seems surreal and I still question the sad, sad, hard and unrelenting pieces of bad news that we are receiving daily, as being necessary steps to something beyond evil.

We're being tested.  We're becoming frightened.  We're entering a mourning period, one in which we see no end but we are all in it and there's no turning back. We've lost our closest friend.  Our freedom to move about in shared spaces, breathing air with which we feel safe, has been stripped away as in a sudden death.  We risk another great loss, the feeling of hope, the ability to plan beyond today.  Funny, we took that so for granted.

In 1969,  Swiss psychiatrist Elizabeth Kubler-Ross first described the five stages of grief. The Grief Cycle. In her book On Death and Dying, she outlined the steps that humans take as they process loss, as they mourn and grieve for something or someone.  While it looks like a roadmap, based upon a flow from step to step at first, it is not intended as such and researchers over the years have been quick to point out that not everyone goes through the five steps in order and some actually skip steps along their way.

The stages described by Kubler-Ross are Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.

Watching, reading and listening to the news from our country and abroad, I am sensing there are a lot of folks out there in the very first stage, denial.  The news clips from the beaches in Florida, for instance, show us hundreds of people who are clearly in denial, totally ignoring the social distancing recommendations.  Ignorance and denial are perfect buddies and together, we're seeing the result of their alliance.

Anger.  I don't know about you, but I am progressing rapidly to this stage.  I'm angry when I go to the supermarket, take all the necessary infection-control steps, and witness a smug woman of my own age, half-heartedly going through the motions as if she honestly thought it was all a figment of one's imagination, this rapidly spreading virus.  I almost clocked her but that would have meant a form of social contact and she really wasn't worth it. I'm angry at the greed.  Why are stores running out of toilet paper?  Greed?  The new social status game?  Bragging rights?  Does having a supply of toilet paper make you feel special?  If it does, I'm angry at you.

I'm not at the bargaining stage, at least not quite yet.  I'm not making promises to God in exchange for mercy.  I'm not taking risks nor am I risking anybody else's right to staying well.  And, I am certainly trying hard to not become depressed.  New forms of social contact, a good diet, exercise and remaining present in my life might help in that area.  Let's hope.

Acceptance?  Do we have a choice?

For more information:  https://www.psycom.net/depression.central.grief.html

AND:  As always, great information and perspectives from https://italywise.com/a-glimmer-of-hope-in-the-midst-of-the-coronavirus-crisis/

Italy Wise

When I first heard of the Coronavirus, I was one of those who actually believed that this was a crisis for China alone to endure.  Never, ever, did I suspect that we would also very soon fall victim to the same pathological disaster that it now upon us and is growing more real every day. I was one who shrugged the possibility off, calming those around me who were becoming "viral phobic" with my opinion that the virus has been here amongst us for some time now, not doing much more harm than the "regular" flu, and that our awareness and our reactions were only due to the fact that we had not considered Covid-19 and now that we have become enlightened, we have a name to an illness that once was in the "Fever of Unknown Origin" class. I was wrong.

Fourteen years ago, I retired from my job as a Corporate Nurse, having served a global company for a few years. Years that included 911, a major black-out of New York City, and several rounds of responses to suspected and threatened acts of bio-terrorism.  My former employer, Colgate-Palmolive, is one of the largest global consumer companies in the world and seventy percent of its business is transacted outside of the U.S.  In addition to being home to Global Headquarters, my building also was home to the U.S. Company.  There were hundreds of people going and coming at any given moment and their health and safety were just as important as their product. My ability to remain calm during a crisis was born at that location, out of necessity and a sense of duty.

And, I am so relieved that my tenure there is over.  This would have been a bit of too-much for a woman who has traded her moments walking on Park Avenue, in the heart of Manhattan, for lovely, calm walks on Corporation Beach in Dennis, Massachusetts, a beautiful Cape Cod town.

My current life is not dictated by the need to assimilate information and formulate plans of action for masses of people.  I only minimally miss that feeling of being thought of as "mother" to twelve hundred individuals at a time. But, my current life does have dictates.  Nobody gets totally off the hook when it comes to reality.  I'm fairly done with keeping up with the media as our lives change with each passing hour.  I've done what I did in the past only without a paycheck this time.  I've reconciled myself to the fact that this is new and that it is not going to go away until some drastic measures are enforced.  There is no treatment for viral activity, unlike bacterial activity which can be stopped with antibiotics, viruses can only be assuaged, symptoms attenuated until the body calls an end to the internal war.  Well-trained medical professionals can tell you that they probably learned the basic principle during their first weeks of their training.  Antisepsis is antisepsis. Hygiene is hygiene.
And people are people. Pathogens come and go. These things never change.

My friends in Italy are entrenched in their struggle to stay ahead of the rampaging virus.  Many of them grew up with an abundance of stories about the ravages of a World War, fought in their own backyards.  They are not alarmists by nature and for the most part, are fiercely independent and strong.  I have heard references that tell me that they are feeling in some areas, as if they were living through that war, altering their lives as their parents and grandparents may have during that crisis. This time, we are allied from the get-go.  Our friends across the ocean have a message for us that comes from their hearts.  They are imploring us to listen, to pay closer attention to the approach of what is now known as a pandemic, than they did; to learn by their omissions. They are trying to help us in this new war.  Perhaps it is pay back.

Times are tough but as we have been shown by those who have had it a lot tougher, we will survive this and many more crises to come.  We have the basic principles, we now have the technology and the good advice of friends who used to feel so far away before that technology.  What used to take the health care community weeks and months to figure out is now available in minutes. We are blessed even while feeling damned at times.

I don't have to be the harbinger.  The media is over-run with information and stories from everywhere in the world a the moment making it almost impossible to filter out what we really need to know from what we might like to think.  Rumors abound.  It's every which-way, every single day. But, I do want to share some honest journalism.  A well-respected fellow-blogger who is an expat, living in Italy, has written from his heart and I think it is worth sharing.  So, allow me to introduce Jed from Italywise.
https://italywise.com/the-coronavirus-or-the-blame-virus/


















https://italywise.com/the-coronavirus-or-the-blame-virus/

At Long Last

Once a month, a little group of us go out to a local restaurant that features a half-price hamburger on Tuesday nights.  For a very small amount of cash, we get to spend a nice evening together.  We use the time to share local information, catching up on the goings-on in our two towns, and in our lives.
We also share stories as women do so adeptly.  There are six in our group. Six very different people, from different backgrounds and parts of the country so the threads of our conversations vary greatly.  We fill our time together with lots of conversations and last night, one could only assume that the Cornavirus would be a hot topic, along with the day's primary elections. You might think.

But not

Not one word about either.  Instead, we defaulted to what seems to be our common denominator, what pulls this group so willingly together each month.  Our parents.

Were we high school girls, we would be seated at the lunch table in our cafeteria.  We most likely would be gossiping for a while and invariably the names of our parents would come up in a cloud of complaint. There would be grousing.  We would be relating "horror" stories and telling family secrets through slippery unsophisticated pouty lips.  This pattern would continue for years to come.  Interspersed with "boy talk" would be talk of lack of freedom, independence, privacy and understanding.

We've all roared through those years. We are not in high school and we've all spent hours and hours once again talking about lack of freedom, independence, privacy and understanding in new forms.
Those same parents have entered conversations again and again as we journeyed through life. We still have a lot to talk about and it's strange how we have been pulled together into a group that originally didn't even know of the common bond.  Aging parents.

When we started out, this hamburger group, the dynamics were different.  Some of the aging parents who were still alive, have passed away.  Stories of their final years, months and days came to the table.  Parents who were once discussed as difficult, demented, worrisome and exhausting, were now viewed in different lights.  And, our journey continues.  None of us still have two living parents. Half of us have lost both.  Last night, all of them were in the spotlight.  Their lives and legacies so much more important than current world events.  Not one complaint. No grousing. Just facts, support and words that validated their places in our lives at long last.