Input

My morning mass endoggenment
I have the ipad and coffee right there,
but it takes two hands to pet two dogs

As our world is burning down around us, I've been thinking a lot about modifying my consumer behavior - both where I spend money and where I get news and entertainment. I've had a ritual for a number of years now, in retirement, where I rise relatively early, let the dogs out while making coffee, and then settle down with my ipad to check in with the world. (First the dogs pile on me for a morning pet fest, topping up my oxytocin levels that decline overnight.) I have my routine: texts (they don't wake me up if they come in while I'm asleep), emails, blogs of people I know in real life. Then, a deep breath and the news. 

The news is bound to upset me, and I've learned to meter my input, checking my arousal level, and sometimes just walking away for a while. But this morning checkin is where I decide on my civic actions for the day. I write or call my federal representatives, or my state and local ones, almost every day first thing. (Not many calls, while I know they are supposed to be more important than emails, but I am very thoughtful in my phrasing in emails.) I might enter comments on some federal or local issue that has a public comment form available. I have a weakness for having to actually research a topic before commenting on it, clicking through to read source documents and think about it, so this is time consuming.

This is my main ipad screen with my news sources,
recently enhanced and rearranged so I can get at my most used
Links to email reps at the bottom

I have subscribed to the New York Times and the Washington Post for years, and since I got the ipad, I actually read or at least skim them every day. I am disappointed in their performance right now, but I still believe they have legitimate investigative journalists doing good work. (Their headline writers, on the other hand, suck.) Not only am I reluctant to deprive myself of these papers' content, but I am willing to pay to support them. I am working with many additional news sources as well, and increasingly I'm paying for them as well.

 I subscribe / pay for Vox, Pro Publica, the Baltimore Banner, the New Yorker, the Atlantic, New York mag, Heatmap, Wired and Rolling Stone. These last two have a surprising amount of relevant investigative journalism right now. I'm considering contributing to the AP - I only just realized it's not-for-profit. Heatmap is a climate newsletter someone I know writes for, I only read it sometimes. I subscribe to a large number of newsletters, most through SubStack, and I pay for a few of them.

I never watched TV news, ever. But I used to live on public radio. I've been contributing since right after college (the tote bag and coffee mug collections have finally been whittled down.)  I owned a radio for every room in my house. On weekends, I would turn them all on to the local station (WAMU, Shout Out!) while I did chores and projects. Now, I have Amaz** Alexas in many rooms, and I can with a voice comment turn them all to the station and hear it as I move throughout the house. But I want to meter my input of upsetting news, not allow random voices to appear and hit me in the gut with something with little warning. And so more often I tee up a podcast from my list, or a book, using the devices as bluetooth speakers for my phone. 

I will also play music throughout the house, either directly with a voice command, or again bluetoothed to  my phone. I also still have my big, dumb, ipod, loaded with many LPs and CDs I loaded into my computer as MP3s. Its battery has no staying power, but I have it plugged into a charger, and wired to a high quality speaker. Often I will put it on random shuffle from my entire collection of songs (about 100 hours worth!) and play it loudly while going about my business. It's pretty much guaranteed that every song on the ipod is something I liked enough to own at one time, and sometimes there is an unexpected pleasure from hearing something I remember only from long ago. Sweet!

Book options

Books are my big thing. I have a kindle and a kobo which are "epaper" readers. I much prefer them to long reading on the ipad - the screen is easier on my eyes and the device is much lighter to hold, and it's a great battery life for travelling. I find the epaper devices seamless to read on, a better experience than the printed page because I can adjust the font size and backlighting to the conditions. I'm trying to unwind myself from Amaz**, and it's hard. The public library offers a kindle option for most of their ebooks, and I usually go that route. In addition, a Prime membership gets me a couple extra free books (limited selection) every month. And many independent authors, self-published, are only available there. The kobo has fallen into dis-use. Recently, Bookshop.org has offered another alternative for buying ebooks. Their website allows you to choose an independent bookstore to profit from sales to you on their site. I've designated "Loyalty Bookstores", located in DC and Silver Spring. But their catalog is not extensive - especially in a back catalog if I find an author I like and want to catch up on all their books. And books bought through them have to be read on my ipad currently, though apparently they are in discusssions with Kobo. I have discovered there are some untethered chrome-operating system generic ereaders made. I was excited, until I researched on Reddit and found they are mostly made in China, system messages are in Chinese, and they require some savvy shenanigans to use. I'll stay tuned, but not ready to purchase yet.

I also listen to books a lot. Audible is the obvious choice there, and I've been on a subscription there since I bought my first ipod. Now the app is on my phone, but I can also download to my kindle, which can save phone battery while traveling. The Audible subscription level I'm on gives me access to a lot of no-extra-cost books, mostly back catalogues or indy authors. The library audiobooks are Libby, which works very well on the phone. I also use Libro.fm, which is affiliated with Bookshop.org and has the same deal of designating a local bookstore to share profits. I am currently also subscribed to Libro, but it has the same issues as Bookshop's ebooks in terms of fewer choices and no back catalog.

I use Goodreads to keep track of my reading, and to get updates from other people. It is owned by Amaz**, and when I finish and rate a book on the kindle, it automatically is registered in Goodreads. Books read elsewhere, or audiobooks, require entering manually. There are other social reading sites, Fable and StoryGraph, which are frankly better. Except, they don't have the automatic updating. I am a voluminous reader, and I like the convenience of the automatic updates. So I'm still on Goodreads for now. If my kindle reading declines, perhaps the convenience factor will too. (Both StoryGraph and Fable allow importing a Goodreads export, which captures all your history up to that point. But, that's a one-time thing and all future books have to input manually.)

John Scalzi has an excellent post that covers the nuances and pains of trying to disentangle from various Evil Empires run by oligarchs.  Two notable quotes: "Boycotts are a fuckin' slog, y'all" and "No ethical living under capitalism is a real thing". I'm sorting my way through the mess. I'm on Facebook and Instagram regularly, where I see posts from people I know in real life and want to keep up with (I post very rarely). But I'm not on Twitter nor Threads, though I have IDs there. I've been a Prime member, and I'm not turning that off right now. But I'm trying to go to other sources for things, with mixed success. Covid tests available for same-day delivery via Amaz** took eight days to arrive when ordered direct from the manufacturer. A maintenance item I needed was only available via Amazon - the manufacturer's website pointed only there. Whole Foods has been my major grocery store (visited more than once a week last year). I've joined the local food coop and checked out Mom's Organic Market (local chain, twice the distance). Both are less convenient - I often would drive to the WF parking lot, where I could also go to the farmer's market, hardware store (employee owned!), CVS, and library all in one trip. Shall I spend more gas driving around for errands? Nuance and trade offs, guys.

BlueSky has definitely hurt my sleep. I've turned on controls on my ipad - BlueSky is limited to 25 minutes a day, and the whole ipad turns off at 10 pm. Controls are easily over-ridden, but at least it's a conscious decision. 

Comfort Food and Sour Pickles

My knee recovery continues. Sadly, my stomach problems continue as well. I stocked up on food before the surgery, but sadly much of the food I stocked up on isn't suitable for my temperamental acid stomach. For example, I adore Trader Joe's Palaak Paneer, thinking of it almost as a pudding, soft nursery food that doesn't need chewing. But while Indian food folks would consider it bland, I normally cool it down with yogurt or creme fraiche. But I'm not considering trying it for a while. I do have plenty of actual truly bland food, and basics to make more (scrambled eggs coming into their own), so I'm fine for supplies. But it made me think about what gives comfort.

My job is to recover, and in between home exercise bouts and off to PT, I'm consuming entertainment at an unprecedented rate. But it's all comfort food. I'm not looking to be scared or disturbed. I want happy endings. I normally feel guilty about this, and stack up my book and movie queues with some more challenging material, my sour pickles that add interest to a bland life. But right now, nope.

After going literally months without watching TV, I reviewed my watch lists I have set up. Imagine my delight to find a British detective series I love, Shetland, has not one but two seasons out I haven't seen. I have also watched older movies (The Big Year, about bird watching!) and will be looking at the list for more. John Scalzi is doing a blog series on "comfort watches" and I'm adding to my list from his suggestions. I'm not big on re-watches (too many new things out there) but some movies truly stand up over years and repeated viewings. I'm thinking I'd love to introduce my girl to A Fish Called Wanda, one of the greats.  

I constantly keep a queue of ebooks and audiobooks on request at the library, and many of my sour pickles come from there - books that I hear about from reviews. But I'm ruthless at abandoning them if I'm not swept away (in a good way) before very far into the book. I don't know if I'll go back and try them again when I feel more resilient, or if they had their shot and I'm done. I've been listening to books (as opposed to reading) more than usual, and again, if it doesn't engage me, it's terminated quickly. Whether reading or listening, my usual mix of mysteries and thrillers is holding a much larger percentage of feel good books. I'm not sure of the category, there are apparently romances and women's fiction and book club books, I don't know how they sort out. Some of the ones called romances are so bad, predictable and pablum, that I can't handle them either. Right now, I am enjoying Elin Hilderbrand books: all with a connection to Nantucket, with characters who make bad choices but are not bad people, and who get through bad things happening. And not always paired off, either. But they are all OK by the end.

I find science fiction and fantasy to be really a crap shoot. I found a series with good values and plenty of snark, called "Murderbot", and saved up the latest for the day I came home from the hospital, and it did not disappoint.  But the author, Martha Wells, came out with a new fantasy series, and I slogged through the first third of the first book, to find the world-building tedious and overdone. Too many characters and races and types of magic being introduced, and getting in the way of bonding with the characters. Sigh.

I do read (mostly listen, actually) to non-fiction. This is the white rice of my entertainment stream - mostly history. My Audible membership gives me access to a pretty extensive catalog of older, less popular, audio books without having to buy them separately. So I've listened to a biography of Chaucer, another about the place of women in Tudor society, and I have more like that coming up. I like this very sedate but just enough intellectually engaging books as background to other things. Generally, I'll cue them up at bedtime. Guess what? If I fall asleep before the automatic cut-off, I may not rewind to catch what I missed. Who cares? I'm learning, but there won't be a test at the end so it's ok if I miss something. 

My latest jam is actually a podcast, though I'd put it in this history category. It's done by the public TV station in Boston, and it's an 8-part series about the Big Dig. Huh? I hear your minds whirring - what? Really? But yes, really. I am a YIMBY, sick of years of our not being able to build things, to carry out ambitious, big projects. The Green New Deal inspired me. I also spent some of my career at the US Department of Transportation, and I witnessed many infrastructure projects start and stop and be delayed and sometimes be killed, while others that ought to have been killed went steam rolling ahead. One of my work hobbies was reading Inspector General reports on topics related to my work (dealing with reports tied to my work was anything but fun, but we know misery loves company). The Big Dig was a multi-year field day for the IG. So this series starts way back in the 1960s and covers the personalities involved in Massachusetts and Boston politics, and the genesis of the project. I can picture some of the meetings and events described - I've been in the Secretary of Transportation's office while the fate of things like this were decided. I'm about half way through, and funding for the project was just approved in Congress, over-riding Reagan's veto. I know the ultimate outcome - my boy living in the Boston area benefits from the completed project - but I'm curious how they got there, and how common myths about events along the way have evolved.

In Our Neighborhood

 Spotted a block away:

National Shame

 I took a dawn walk down on the National Mall, and saw the current art work honoring the (as of yesterday) 700,234 deaths due to Covid-19. While not all of this was avoidable, things could have gone very differently.

I took the time from my walk to take some photos. It was really breathtaking how big it is, and how it really sneaks up on you. Each flag has a hand-written name and other info on it. Like the Vietnam Memorial, there is an index to find someone specific. 

The display is in between the Washington Monument and Constitution Avenue, and takes a large amount of space.

Four years ago

This popped up on my Facebook feed today. It’s worth it to pause and remember how afraid we were, and then how much worse everything got than we were able to imagine then. How Truth disappeared.  And how hard it was to sustain our energy (at least it was for me). How insidious and wearing were the constant assaults. We’ve got a moment now to breathe, but it is just a moment.

January 22, 2017

So here's the thing:  Can we try to focus our attention and outrage on things that matter?  Can we make sure we devote bandwidth (posts, column inches, minutes on broadcast media) to those things that affect the most number of people? 

Yes, there was a Big Lie about inauguration crowds. The fact there was an unrepentant lie is important. Note that fact in plain language, link to the spreadsheet, and move on.  What has happened lately in terms of executive orders about health care? Focus, people.  Let's focus on areas where people's lives are affected.  I don't care where the president's family lives, not much, not enough to spend bandwidth on it.  I care about foreign policy, health care, and the environment.  And other things. But we have to prioritize and choose where to expend our energy.

This isn't a moment, it's the movement.  Rise UP!

Relief

The Wall - the WH is through the fence

What a roller coaster this past week has been! It feels like the longest week of the year. But at least it's over.

I try to ration my news, and isolate myself from useless nattering. So I didn't pay very much attention to updates during the day on Tuesday - I checked to see if there were reports of widespread election violence (there weren't) and aside from that, I knew there would be no actual election outcomes until later. So I had my quiet day in the lovely weather. After supper, I went down into the basement and sewed, while watching my absolute favorite movie of all time: The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming! It has stood the test of time, still the best ever.

I checked the NY Times and Wash Post websites just before bed. Nothing clear, as expected. My staying up would do nothing to change anything, so night night.

I had set up the coffee pot for the morning, so I got up at my normal 6:30 on Wednesday morning, poured the first cup, and sat down with the ipad. I was horrified. Until I read the headlines, I hadn't realized how much I had allowed myself to buy into the Blue Wave. Things were looking bad - the Post actually forecasting a Trump win, the Times more neutral. Down ballot losses everywhere. An incredibly powerful Facebook live post from a Black episcopal priest I know was full of despair and anger. Even if Biden manages to eke it out, he said, this is the nation we live in. Nearly half of all voters are stupid racists, or else think being a stupid racist is not disqualifying.  I curled into a ball and panicked.

I've discovered spending a few minutes catastrophising a situation is actually helpful to me. I contemplate a worst case scenario, and play it out in my head. So I allowed myself to go there. What does this mean for me and my family and friends? Me, I'll be mostly fine. My family and friends, not so much. For the country, for our institutions, for life as I have known it, a disaster. Having spent just a few minutes there, I put it away for a while.

Black Lives Matter Plaza - my first visit

Compartmentalizing. Shrugging things off until they can't be ignored. I can do that. So I put myself on a schedule of no more often than every two hours to check in on the news. I spent time outside, gardening, but couldn't really get into any projects of any depth. I kept moving, though, not able to settle down into a book or anything else.

Thursday and Friday continued in a similar pattern, but my anxiety about the worst case eased. It seemed it would be a matter of time before it would be widely acknowledged that Biden had a solid enough lead. The weather remained remarkably fine, and I spent a great deal of time outside.

So the news came Saturday, from a text from my friend while I was eating lunch: Clanging pots and bowls in the yard! Knowing what it must mean, I grabbed the ipad and poked the Post and then the Times. Then I pushed my food away and put down my head on the table and wept. Really. Big wracking sobs. Enough to worry the dog, who painfully arose to come over and check on me.

But the feeling is relief, not joy. Relief at dodging the worst case scenario. Immense pleasure at seeing the glass ceiling break for our Vice President. But we squeeked by. I was never a fan of Joe Biden (though he struck a lovely note at his address last night). Going back to the way things used to be is unacceptable. We have to move forward, but we are a nation divided, and not all the haters are old and about to die though they sure are doing their best to put themselves and everyone else in harm's way.

I have a horror of crowds, and so avoid most demonstrations. There are times when my body on the line might make a difference, but for me the barrier is pretty high. So my celebration was at daybreak today, down at the White House. Relief at putting the worst behind us, and more work to do.

Jury Duty

Imagine my surprise a few weeks ago to receive a jury summons in the mail! What? Really? Fresh in my memory was the experience of a New Jersey-based journalist of my (virtual) acquaintance who was summoned in the very early days of quarantine. He tweeted photos of the crowded conditions - and remember this is before we knew to mask. The very next day, as I recall, his location suspended jury trials.

It turns out my county decided to resume jury trials in October. They probably made that decision before all the county-level indicators started ticking up later in the fall. At any rate, they are pressing on, though slowly and cautiously.  Is it cautiously enough? 

I believe firmly that trial by jury is part of what makes America great. I've been called to jury duty half a dozen times, and actually served three times back when I lived in Chicago. The mere fact that I show up without an attitude to get out of it probably has a lot to do with my history of getting seated. Frankly, I've never understood that attitude. Why do people hate jury duty? Back when I was working, it was a welcome and unimpeachable excuse to have a break in the routine. I have an admittedly high tolerance for waiting around - back in the day, I'd bring a stack of magazines and jettison as I went. Now, of course, the phone or ipad work great. And, when involved in a trial, people's stories are interesting. The glimpse into other lives can be fascinating. I read mysteries and love me a TV courtroom drama, so to get to be there is cool. And, of course, I have a pretty strong sense of civic responsibility, and this shows some of our finest (and not so fine) systems at work.

So I faithfully showed up as summoned on Tuesday morning last week. I'd been summoned once before to that location, so I had the logistics of parking and finding the building all worked out. But clothes! What does one wear to be on a jury? And, setting the alarm, to be up and out on a schedule. I set three alarms, just to be certain. I decided what to wear the night before (a time saving trick from my working days) but ended up changing my tops three times. I went for comfort over style, choosing my dressiest yoga pants (an oxymoron?) and a relatively dressy fleece sweater over a plain tee. I left my beloved hoodie and flannel shirts behind.

The summons included the instruction for full time masking, and I brought a few with me, to be able to swap out if I was there all day. The entrance to the court building was next to another county building with a polling place, and there was a line there. But I found my way into the court building, where they took my temperature and ran through a quick verbal checklist ("have you recently travelled out of state? been to any non-socially distanced parties? ...") before screening me through security. In the huge juror's lounge, they checked me in without touching me, having me toss the pen I used to sign their sheet into a box lined with disinfectant wipes. They handed me an envelope with fifteen dollars in cash and a letter suitable for showing an employer, testifying to my appearance. 

The huge juror lounge had specific seats marked off for sitting. At checkin, they handed me a full sheet of paper holding only my new number, 19. They pointed in the general direction of the seats, and I found the seat with a large #19 on its back. It turns out, each row of a dozen fixed seats were set to hold two people, and the position along the row was staggered so no-one was directly in front of anyone else. So I settled in to my seat and started on my electronic magazines. 

After a while, someone at the front of the room attracted our attention, and started to call numbers. Each person had to hold up their number when called to be recorded. They ended up calling about 45 people, half the jury pool there, and then lined them up and took them to a courtroom for voir dire. They were asked to walk six feet apart, and the elevators had designated spots to stand in, only four at a time, so I imagine their trip took a while to get there and get settled. 

I figured by this time I'd spent about 90 minutes in a room with about 100 people total in it. The only public buildings I've been in since March are supermarkets and hardware stores, usually off peak and with very high ceilings and good ventilation. In the jury room we were well spaced out, and 100 percent masked. A casual survey of masks showed more than two-thirds in disposable paper masks (mostly the pleated surgical kind, a few N95 types), and others in cloth masks. But, we don't much about about how the virus spreads. How good, what type, of ventilation system did the room and building have? I have no idea.

So then for us, the other half of the jury pool, they brought the lawyers and judge to us for voir dire. They asked a series of questions about our past history and whether we knew specific people. If our answer to anything was "yes", we held up our number cards and they recorded us for individual questions later. It became clear from the nature of the questions that the case was a civil lawsuit stemming from an auto accident. Of course it was.

So then, they called us in one-by-one to a smaller room just off the big one, where the judge asked for the details on the questions we had flagged. After my questioning, I returned to my seat and my magazines. 

Finally, the big denouement. The clerk started to call numbers, and the big question in everybody's mind: Are we selected or excused? As it turns out, I was selected. Of course I was.  

By now, three hours had passed. The others left (I was glad to have fewer people around) and it was our turn, the eight of us, to line up and go by fours up to the court room. Then, more waiting around. At some point, we'd been told to turn off our devices, and I cursed myself for not having thought to bring an actual book book or magazine. It appeared our trial was the only activity on the entire floor, and I was relieved to have even fewer people around. There was a long corridor with floor to ceiling windows and it was great to get to walk back and forth and see some actual daylight. One juror went in to talk to the judge alone, and then we were seven jurors, six women and one man. 

Finally, into the courtroom. The jury box, built to hold fourteen, had seats blocked off for three to sit in each of two rows. Very comfortable fixed but swiveling seats, with a waist-high wooden wall in front and clear plastic sheets suspended between the rows. One poor juror had to sit in front of the jury box, on the courtroom floor, where she felt like she was on display. She had to sit nicely (we could put our feet up on the wall in front of us) and she felt the need to be alert and taking notes all the time. So now, in our courtroom, there were the seven jurors, and about ten others (plus some witnesses).

The judge thanked us constantly for being there, and revealed this was his first jury trial since March. He explained things clearly, interpreting some of the lawyers' motions for us along the way. He's not on the ballot this year, but I'd vote for him again. His clerk had recently taken the bar, remotely, and noted there might be less reciprocity than in previous years because it was a truncated exam.

So the case itself was a rear-end collision, three years ago, and the plaintiffs were suing the driver that hit them for whiplash. We heard testimony from doctors and chiropractors, the plaintiffs and defendant. It seemed to me none of the lawyers were any good - but maybe I watch too much TV. Certainly, two of them failed to read the room - with a jury of six women and one man, do you really need to emphasize the boxing league credentials of one doctor, or pepper your speech with a flood of football analogies? 

I used my car as my portable bubble, and ate my lunch there every day. Two of three days I also walked, but the last day the remnants of a hurricane swept through so I just read in the car. With temperatures in the 60s every day, the car was nice secure little space to be unmasked.

After two-and-a-half days of testimony (and a lot of waiting around in the hallway) on the afternoon of the third day we went to the jury room to deliberate. (Just before that, the poor woman who sat in front was designated the alternate that could be released - we only needed six for the decision.) It was really interesting to hear what others were thinking. We had of course started to warm up to each other during our interminable waits, what do you do, where do you live, etc., but of course hadn't started to talk about the trial. Some thought the plaintiffs were totally faking, others had more sympathy for the fact their lives had been upended when a car struck them out of the blue. We took about 90 minutes, and ended up splitting the baby. We didn't give the plaintiffs everything they asked for, but we gave them something. And we all agreed on which was the sleaziest doctor!

So now, I've imposed a (modified) quarantine on myself. I never felt the situation was clearly unsafe, but it also was clearly much riskier in terms of virus exposure than my normal life. My sailing partner and I discussed it, and we agreed to wear masks all the time we were together yesterday, even though all summer we didn't mask up on the boat. (As it turns out, it was cold and so the mask was not unwelcome.) I double-masked at the grocery store this morning, and will mask when I see my girl for her birthday tomorrow. I'm postponing some errands, banking, etc.. I figure after a week or maybe ten days, I should go for a test. When I get the results, then I'll declare myself clear.

The frustrating thing is I keep having to postpone my hair appointment, to get new color! I figure I shouldn't put them at risk, even through a mask, until I'm clear.

(I voted, I'm ignoring the fact life as we know it may change in a couple of days.)

Update

Oh, geez, things have been in such turmoil - and yet, almost none of it touches me, directly. Just my family and those I love, and the country I love... Me? I worry, I ruminate, I self-medicate with books, my body declares war on me so the dizziness, migraines, knee pain and digestive distress really multiply, and my nervous system is on high alert for any signs of the virus. But I'm fine.

Things started going south the day I finally went sailing. My brother-in-law (BIL) dropped by to pick up my girl, who had come over to take care of my old dog. As he got to my door and came in, he got a text from his employee, showing her positive Covid-19 test result. Still standing in the doorway, I told him to step outside immediately. We sat down outside, distanced. His assistant - who can't work at the pharmacy alone, only accompanied by BIL or BIL's one other pharmacist - felt ill the day before. BIL sent her home (after 3 hours together, though both masked!) and asked her to get tested. Here was the result. Gah. So worried. We discussed contingency plans, for the family and for the business. It's now been more than two weeks, and both he and his assistant pharmacist are fine. His employee is still out, but at home. From the moment the text arrived till now, neither he nor my girl have come close to me. (My only risk factors are being old and fat, but I'd like to avoid any unpleasantness.)

So then the issues of racial justice and violence against black people blew up. I spiraled out of control, feeling like the country was close to civil war. If it came to it, I would put my life on the line. If I thought it would be useful. As I noted, I decided at this point to give money - enough to feel it - and to re-engage on areas where I could be actually useful. My body makes war on me, so that I couldn't look someone in the face and answer "yes" to "Do you feel well today?". It keeps me from attending even local protests. When the going gets tough, Nan gets sick. It's a pattern that has repeated itself all my life.

My BIL's pharmacy, in the latest gentrifying area of DC, has been hit three times. Not looting, professional thieves. Folks who knew which drugs to take. He boarded up the big windows. He's talking to the landlord about metal grating. His insurance company is not happy with the situation, and they are talking.

My girl decided she had to go into DC. Of course she did. It is the right thing. But it scares me to death. She has not, so far, encountered any violence. She is on fire with zeal, and also has big feet blisters. I cannot see her, except from a distance, as I provide some practical support. She wears a mask, she says. But she is putting herself at risk. It's so different to contemplate this from the parent perspective. I think back to my own activism, traveling across half the country with people I scarcely knew to protest the Vietnam war, narrowly escaping arrest from the vicious Nixon administration. I was never scared, just mad. Or partying. My parents, separated from me by geography in the pre-cell/text era, heard almost none of this. Now, I'm terrified for my girl. But I also get regular updates.

My boys are fine. The middle boy lives in DC with his girlfriend, in a small studio apartment, and they both are working from home on things that require a great deal of tech equipment. For Memorial Day weekend, they went to an AirBnB just a couple of blocks away - a two bedroom with a balcony and a roof deck! My boy believes strongly in the science of virus spread and has not gone to the streets. No protests directly where they are. He has money of his own, however, and is also giving. We talk often.

My big boy seems to have sunk himself in math. He lives in his university town in a big house with six other guys, so he doesn't lack for company while still being isolated. For the past several years, his life has revolved around math and ultimate frisbee. He's lost the latter, and feels disoriented. And he was competing in ultimate at the top levels of the country - both as a professional (literally, but don't quit your day job) and as a nationally ranked amateur. He's not trying now to keep conditioning up, couldn't think of a non-math book he's read recently, and just geeked to the max. His well-educated, liberal, university town has had some well-bred protests which he hasn't attended. So safe and well, relatively speaking, but I long to see him.

So we're fine.

Anger Moves to Despair Moves to Engagement

This is the first anniversary of my first day of retirement. I've been a bit a reflective, and entirely too much up in my own head. It's report card season, and I've been pulling data to check on myself. But now isn't the moment for that.

My motto for the year is ENGAGE. So far, I'm not doing very well at that. I've shrunken in on myself, and disengaged by distracting myself with books. Current events broke in on me and pushed me first to anger, hot and red. As I read the news over the weekend, I fell more and more into despair, cold and blue. Family issues drove me a very rare panic attack. (The issues are real, but not panic level.) But I can't stay in this state. Finally, I'm very slowly moving towards action. The anger and despair are still there, but I'm prepared to engage.

The final push came from my wonderful long-time personal trainer. I've been vegetating, but last week finally worked with her to come with a new plan. I was quite diligent last week, and she followed up yesterday when my mood was at my lowest. I woke up this morning (to the most beautiful day ever) with the thought, "there is nothing that gets better by my solitary despair" and, it's personal corollary, "almost everything will be better with me if I work out". So not directly out of bed to the workout, but I got it done and I do feel much better. Moving all my body makes me feel better, and gives me energy. I've moved on to the rest of my day prepared to actually do something. Not much, not everything, but some things.

This moment in our country requires someone other than me to lead. My wise friend noted, the best thing for us right now is to give money and support the young folks in our lives. YES! That struck a chord. So, based on a tip from another friend, I visited the Obama Foundation page where there are links to at least a half dozen organizations I assume have been vetted to some degree. I couldn't decide between them, so I gave to all of them. Of course, my new favorite organization is all about using data science to inform meaningful policy changes in policing.

I've been reading a lot on issues, and am nearly done with How to Be an Anti-Racist. It is really really good at putting things into perspective for me. The author, Ibram X. Kendi, has a strong emphasis on the need for policy changes to effect lasting change. This of course works for me. But there are personal issues of change that are just as needed by folks like myself raised with white privilege. One of my Utah retreat leaders used to be a diversity trainer (before she became a sponsored athlete). She will be leading some workshops in a couple of weeks I am going to participate - along the lines of "anti-racism activities for white people". She herself is both Black and Latinx.

Since my mother died last September, I also have been ignoring the messages from all of the environmental organizations I sought out when first I retired. I can't, I shouldn't, try to lead in the fight for racial justice. But I certainly can usefully contribute more of my own physical and mental self to environmental policy issues. There is also intersectionality - I'll be attending a webinar on the troubled background between race and the environmental movement. But I'll also participate in a seminar on how to be an environmental advocate from your couch. I think this has a chance to play into my strengths! And, I've got some letters to write to my county councilmembers.

So I'm coming out of my stupor that pre-dated the despair. When I think about what is going on in the streets of our country right now, I'm terrified. I really feel we are on the cusp of war. But what can I do? I can do what I can do. It's all I can do. And I have to actually do it.