Woke early to another gorgeous morning, a cool breeze running through the house, bare feet on floors as I made my way out with Bruno to Miller Woods. It hit me then that I could count the number of mornings left here on both hands, ten days left after more than 9 years. I compared the woods to those across Clarksville Rd. And then thought about violence done to trees and on this Juneteenth, violence done to blacks in our community, and recalled the definition of evil:

“In my work with the defendants (at the Nuremberg Trails 1945-1949) I was searching for the nature of evil and I now think I have come close to defining it. A lack of empathy. It’s the one characteristic that connects all the defendants, a genuine incapacity to feel with their fellow men. Evil, I think, is the absence of empathy.”

Captain G. M. Gilbert, the Army psychologist assigned to watching the defendants at the Nuremberg trials

The morning after Natalie’s graduation, virtual though it was. She got a mask in a bag full of other Skyline swag as her mom drove her through the receiving line at the high school. Dinner here afterwards (Noodles & Co), followed by watching the ceremony on YouTube. It was nice, but without the pomp and circumstance of the real thing. Natalie took it in stride though, and I’m so proud of her for her 3.998 grade point average, her 5 close friendships, her self-awareness, kind heart, great attitude and work ethic. Its going to be hard not having her around anymore. When she turned 18 a week ago Friday, we had lunch here on the patio and I remember thinking how ordinary the conversations were, even if the day itself was extraordinary. I wanted to talk about her hopes and dreams, recount every single memory and tell her how much I loved her, but the time for pausing and reminiscing doesn’t seem upon us just yet. Will this be what the day after her wedding will also feel like? I guess they’re all extraordinary moments from now on.

There are now less than two weeks before we move. There’s so much change happening all at once and I think I can speak for Andi when I say I don’t like it.

Been sick this week, and sleep suffering, I was up last night thinking of an idea for a blog/twitter handle called “Disappointing thought of the day.” Today’s episode would have been: Joe Biden is, or at least was, not a nice guy. Not least because his bad attitude towards women has forced Democratic voters to become hypocrites as they vote for him after protesting Kavanaugh’s Supreme Court nomination. Thanks asshole.

The Duration, day 35. Confined to the house, except for walking the dog, near-daily runs and Andi’s few trips to Plum Market. Feeling incredibly lucky to be confined with my favorite and best companion, to have jobs that allow us to work from our comfortable home and not a single immediate family member or friend affected by the disease, at least not yet. A routine has settled over the weekdays that under any other circumstance might be just how I’d always wanted to live: days working in the study, evening dinners together and a walk outdoors with the puppy afterwards. But I also feel like I’m sitting on the sidelines, wondering when and how to help, paralyzed by a sense that the worst hasn’t even yet begun. A poem in the April 4 Sunday New York Times Magazine called How to Survive This by Barbara Kingsolver sums it up:

O misery. Imperfect

universe of days stretched out

ahead, the string of pearls and drops of venom on the web,

losses of heart, of life

and limb, news of the worst:

Remind me again

the day will come

when I look back amazed

at the waste of sorry salt

when I had no more than this

to cry about.

Now I lay me down.

I’m not there yet.

The duration, day 12. More references to Groundhog Day. I do some work, Andi same, filling in gaps with walks, indoor/outdoor workouts, the occasional shopping trip, maintaining limits on the drinking. Last night I got completely frazzled trying to pick a password for the College Board site to apply for Natalie’s financial aid, so I snapped at her in the least cool way. Apologies. Amazon orders on the stoop. Boxes left there to naturally decontaminate, bad news always in the background, new measures daily like: how they’re putting down spots in the store so you know what a six foot interval looks like, plexiglass to separate cashiers. Andi’s mom gifting an opened bottle of wine to Spike’s friend and nurse anesthetist Laura, who Ron also was trying to reach to get answers to questions he has about his inventory of N95 masks. These are just the small stories. I’m wondering what happens when Trump contests an election that rightly involves a lot of absentee ballots. His followers already see social distancing as virtue signaling, and I think it’s only a matter of time before owning the libs tips with self-righteous rage into killing the libs.

Duration, Day 10. Two weeks ago I was heading out to New Jersey, and it seems like an eternity ago when people were still planning on dinners, concerts, gatherings with friends, work, conferences, reunions, trips….. and it all changed so quickly. We began our confinement on Sunday March 15. Just a week later, I heard a neighbor telling Vessie in their backyard that she would do this one thing “if I thought I could keep my job.” Last night I was taking Bruno for a walk after dinner when the music I was listening to was interrupted by a blaring emergency broadcast letting everyone know that Michigan’s shelter in place restrictions were going into effect at midnight. We’ve stopped having Stephan over to walk Bruno, don’t really know what comes next, or when, and everything that comes into the house is getting disinfected. Meanwhile, Natalie is here, so at least I get to see her. She’s holding up ok, but bored out of her mind and super bummed about not getting to participate in any senior year rituals. But she’s making some really cool art on her iPad.

The news coverage of the coronavirus has been a slow enough crescendo that somehow it’s not surprising that nearly every event or gathering we were planning to attend has now been cancelled, including travel to work next week, Ray Gorga’s 100th birthday party, the AA half marathon, the film festival, the Caribou concert at St. Andrews, even our public schools. Flying back through Philadelphia International airport last night was really great though, and I’d love to experience other places now empty of people. But instead I’ll take walks around the house and enjoy the company of Nabs and Andi while the contagion does its work around the globe. Go get ‘em covid. They’re the ones taking special advantage in social situations out of an entrenched sense of entitlement that immunized them from the complaints of others.

Woke in the Cranbury Hampton Inn from dreams of alien landings while hanging out with SSM and getting fired, something about drugs, Carolyn Horvath finding an uncalibrated balance in a lab drawer and Raj saying, “we can’t go back now.”

But I am going back home today after two weeks of being gone. I told Andi on the phone last night, as I stood in the empty construction trailer, that this week I’d observed a shift in feeling from wanting to be more at home in Ann Arbor to wanting more to be out here. We’ll see how that holds when I return to the familiar and good of Miller Ave, wife, daughter, friends and family.

You can’t judge what comes to mind first thing in the morning. Yesterday it was an average set of beats of my own invention as I set out to write up a paint scheme before heading by Uber to get a cashiers check and deliver it to what will be our new place on Grover’s Mill pond. Heading to the city today to meet with Kinnari.

Jumping out of bed in the cold jersey City AirBnB, morning after Rare Disease Day, to go look for a place to rent out here.