I finally spelled quarantine right on the first try.
In other news.
Everything is terrifying.
The unknown of it all makes me shake in my socks, the ones with holes in the heels.
Kristen and I just had a brief conversation, brought on by a “Talk Of The Town” in the most recent New Yorker issue; a story called “A Son’s Story, Lifeline.”
In it, the son of a Peruvian immigrant tells the last few days of his father’s life, and battle with Covid-19. His father was having struggle speaking, so the only words that they got to exchange were through text messages. The last one having been sent by the son and writer of the piece, Victor Zapana, Jr., “You were always there for me.”
I think there’s a clear divide between the people that understand what’s happening in the world right now, and those that don’t.
Yes, it’s springtime, but you can tell by the snow that’s raging outside of our window on and off just how much the world needs us to stay inside, and away from other people.
I’m sorry that you can’t put your boat in the water. I’m sorry that you can’t go to work. I’m sorry that the economy is hurting. I’m sorry that this is hard.
As of about one minute ago, the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore closed their gate; who knows for how long.
Because people weren’t taking the pandemic seriously.
Because there were still people traveling in large packs through the sand.
Because this is a real issue.
I’m sorry that this isn’t as light-hearted of a post as they usually are.
But I’m so sick of having to hear about the nation’s stupidity through the radio.
Stay away from others.
Call your friends.
Try to read a book.
Just don’t be an idiot.