Sit cons basically suck. And I try to fall asleep listening to Seinfeld.

Crazy? Yeah..

As it stands now, my daily power walk is a highlight, a diversion, a chance to connect, albeit at a distance, with the outside world.

Even as insular a space as my suburban community is touched by the coronavirus tragedy. Each day I pass the nursing home where 49 lives were lost. Why that place? Why those poor souls?

But I press on, aware of the traffic, although minimal. Every time I walk, I see how driving or riding by in an automobile is like passing through in a glass and metal cocoon. Our vehicles shelter us, as if they were an extension of our houses. We listen to our music, perhaps have our religious statuary or icons on the dashboard or dangling from the rear view mirror. We all consider this personalization perfectly normal. In a time where the uniformity of the vehicles is pervasive, this personalization is almost an imperative. But 65 years ago, your vehicle was unique enough in itself. A Chevy Bel Air was markedly different from a Ford Fairlane. These days a black SUV is a black SUV.

Awareness of my surroundings, such as the uneven grass on the side of the road, keeps me safe. The pedestrian and the cyclist quickly learn they are intruders in Car Universe. We are the aliens, not the ones rolling by in their pods.

And I walk on. I see a turtle on a sand bar in the creek. I notice the trash, the discarded brush, the plastic bags. Today, I noticed an empty cigarette pack, Newport 100’s, with a few unsmoked fags (slang term for cigarette from The Great War)*.

I speak to my fellow walkers as we pass each other by. I smile at the children, riding their bikes with their Mom or Dad following. I hear the barking dogs like the black poodle sequestered by the electronic fence. Sometimes the serenity is disturbed by the music resounding from a car, the thudding bass announcing its passing as if it were clarion trumpets of a Roman Legion.

Just as easily I could be and am the man in the pod, not the indigenous person trudging along the road. These are our cities today, where humans doing human things, only interfere with the city plans of the city planners.

* “Strike up a lucifer (match) to light your fag, smile boys that’s the style.” Those lyrics are from the song Pack Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit Bag. I’m hoping it’s in the Public Domain by now

I miss the old Sunday routine, Mass, brunch and a swim at the YMCA. Right now isn’t bad, primarily because I’m not sick. I’m following the Weight Watchers plan, more or less. I am pursuing power walking with real enthusiasm. Today I walked 6 miles as if it were not a big deal. I still average around 15 minutes/mile. But what the Heck. I’m out there bad hip and all. And when I’m done I feel so good. It is highly energizing from a sexual perspective.

I fixed a beef stew tonight that was well received.

I have paper sorting and organizing to do.

I could call my marriage a soul-destroying experience, but that’s not quite accurate. I still have my soul, my dreams, my goals and my fantasies. The worm of selfishness still lives in my gut.

And yet my marriage is a series of solitary experiences in a prison of solitude, where I do my activities, she does hers. Talking about my thoughts and feelings is useless.

So today, I will clean and organize, stopping only when my pain is too much, then resuming when it lessens. 

I am going to be the best “David” I can be.

OK, I did my walk today, six miles. I feel pretty good physically, a little tired. But every time I think about what happened in Wuhan, e.g. the release of this virus, my head wants to explode. Had this happened in America, the plaintiffs’ lawyers would be suing the owners of the laboratory. And I would be cheering them on. This virus release could still precipitate the greatest civil tort liability suit in history.

But this isn’t helping my attitude. What helped my attitude was a phone call from #2 son. We just talked. I feel better

While it may be 4:45 in the morning in the Eastern Time Zone of North America, it is some time in the afternoon in Russia According to the Russian Orthodox liturgical calendar, it is Good Friday, the day Jesus Christ was crucified.

I am sitting in my chair, wondering why I am watching and listening to a priest read the Passion narrative in Russian. Occasionally I will understand a word or two. I’ve been meaning to re-learn Russian. Guess I better get started.

Turning the YT channel I am now watching an industrial film from the 1950’s promoting transportation solutions to traffic congestion. The problem seems unchanged, but the cars looked a lot cooler then.

Maybe I should go back to bed.

First things first. Have not heard from Olivia. You, OK, Woman?

Getting into the walking groove again, I am. I was in the hole after the first week of April. I had only managed to walk three times. If I wanted to average 5 times per week, I needed to walk every day from 8-14 April. And I did. I actually had 4 X 6 mile walks and 3 X 4 mile walks, for a total of 36 miles. I felt proud.

I am kind of tired now. I imagined myself writing so much more. So I’m closing the entry now. Will check in later

✌ Peace.

0228 13 April. Today is Thomas Jefferson’s birthday. I grew up in a world that admired his genius. He was the first great American architect. Jefferson was a complex man as all heroes are. And paradox often accompanies complexity. Real world heroes live on a different level than comic book heroes or mythological figures.

But this post is about Easter. To me, among other things, Easter is about unending and invincible Divine Love. I think we can comprehend every other Divine quality from God’s Love for us humans.

I know that’s a lot to think about. So I think I will just share my observation of a family having an Easter egg hunt. There were two children, a little girl about 4, a little boy about 2. And the parents The little boy was not as taken with the game as the little girl. And the parents here were having the most fun, just watching the children and directing them in their quest. You can infer all you wish about the joy of simple things. Praising the simple risks descending to the realm of platitude, until one sees people fully engaged in as simple and naïve an activity as an Easter egg hunt. That little game reaffirms the simplicity of heart, of feeling, we so easily reject.

“Suffer the little children to come into me…” St Matthew 19:14.

With people driving fewer miles because of quarantine, and shelter in place mandates, there is less road kill.

That means the buzzards are in for some lean times too. So when you are out on the road, remember a little turn of the wheel at the right time, in the right direction, might mean some fresh carrion for some hungry buzzards.

It’s the least we can do.

If I can put my anger, opinions, and negativity aside for the next few weeks until the metaphorical “All Clear” sounds, I will feel that I have contributed my little bit towards a positive attitude needed to conquer this pandemic.

Then if I can strive for love in the face of this negativity, maybe it can infiltrate into a full time attitude of love, instead of mere posture.

It takes work. Nor can I expect that anyone else will ever join me in this journey.