Interesting Times

Once again, I must offer my sincere and abject apologies to whichever ancient Chinese persons I have offended, to have been thus cursed to live in such Interesting Times. . .

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Life In the Time of the Virus

We are hunkered down, not quite sheltered-in-place.  We've made a few trips to the grocery store,and after the initial panic last weekend, we've mainly been able to get what we need (even toilet paper!). Other than that, though, we haven't been out much.  Not that there's much to go out TO.  7M is a student at the local mega-university, and all his classes went to on-line instruction last week.  Likewise, 8M's high-school has also gone all-on-line, and it is an open question as to whether commencement will happen as usual.  Our grandson's day care is simply closed until further notice.  Our church has been live-streaming masses said in an empty building.  Yesterday, the every-other-week Bible study I'm in met via Zoom; I was the only one who didn't have a webcam.

Cancelling the NCAA basketball tournament was a bit of a shock to the system.  Normally, yesterday would have been the first day, and the TV would have been tuned to hoops from noon til midnight.  And my Spartans were looking really promising, too (it's probably merciful that the Detroit professional sports teams get to recede from the public eye). . .

Jenn had been doing childcare for 1F's son (now five months old), but she (1F) decided that she didn't want to put Jenn and me at risk, both of us being over 60, and therefore, at 'elevated risk'.  It's a little odd, being the object of my kids' concern like that.

Jenn has made a couple of shopping trips for a friend who's less willing than we are to venture out of her house.  She leaves the groceries in the garage, rings the doorbell, and leaves.  Sometimes her friend will come to the garage door and talk with her, but she won't get the groceries until Jenn is safely in her car and on the road.  The same friend will also call Jenn three times a day to chide her for not taking 'social distancing' seriously enough. . .

Being confined to our house with other people who are also more-or-less confined to our house poses a few odd challenges.  Two sons who need quiet places in which to connect to their on-line classes places some strain on scarce resources of quiet places in our house.  Not usually a terribly difficult problem, but we've also got our 5-year-old grandson here, and he doesn't always keep close track of which rooms are 'spoken for', so he can't just roam freely (and noisily) through the house like he's used to.  There's more of a sense of the house being crowded than used to be the case.

7M has been burning off some of his nervous energy by doing projects around the house, and God bless him.  He gutted the walls in the kitchenette of the basement efficiency he's sharing with his new bride, and built new walls, replaced the grungy old basement window with glass blocks that instantly let in light that hasn't been seen in that space since we moved in, 20 years ago.  But his increased levels of activity also mean that space becomes even more scarce as he re-locates the contents of the kitchenette while the work is in-process.

My 401k has taken a beating, which could be alarming, as I'll need to start drawing on it about a year from now.  But I'm not panicking; hopefully, the market will recover once the pestilence has run its course, but it definitely makes the times even more 'interesting'. . .

I saw an article on-line yesterday, saying that some folks have started re-hanging their Christmas lights, as a way to reach out to their also-sequestered neighbors, to introduce a bit of cheer into the bleakness, and a tacit encouragement that we'll all get through this if we can just hang on.  I loved the idea, besides which, invoking Christmas ("God with us") seems to me the perfect note to strike.  So yesterday evening, 7M and I went and strung the lights around the porch roof (ours is not a gaudy or elaborate display).  We'll see if any of our neighbors catch on. . .

Hope all is well with all of you reading this.  Hunker down as best you can, and stay well. . .

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Return of the Prodigal

For about the past year-and-a-half, we haven't seen hide nor hair of 3M.  He disappeared, didn't tell anyone where he was (including the mother of his then-4-year-old daughter), and basically dropped out of our life.  The other kids would occasionally see something of his on Facebook, but never with any way of knowing where he was, or how to contact him.  That's how we found out that he had a baby son last July.

So, a couple weeks ago (before COVID came to Michigan), we were heading across the street to a gathering of friends at one of our neighbors' houses, and there, parked in front of our house, was 3M, with his new woman.  We sort of stared at each other for a minute, then ran through the obligatory "What are you doing here?" - type greetings.  We dropped our contribution to the potluck at the neighbor's house, then invited them to come in and have dinner with us.

We had a really good time together, and just basically got reconnected.  There's really not a whole lot more to say.  He seems to be in as good a place as he's been in a long time - working, clean and sober.  He's even doing a pretty remarkable job step-fathering his new lady's kids.  I'm sure it will take a while for comfort levels to come all the way back, but for now, we've got all eight of our kids back in the fold.

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Grand-girl at Ground Zero

Last Sunday, 4M and his wife welcomed  their new baby daughter into life in this world.  She was born in Seattle, which is basically Ground Zero for COVID in the US.  Which is kinda freaky, but you can't very well tell a baby not to be born until it's safer.  4M's mother-in-law is staying with them for a couple weeks. She got out of Michigan just before the initial wave of panic hit, which is probably good for her.  The bad news is that she went to Seattle, where the curve still hasn't flattened yet.  But on the other hand, she doesn't need to be in a hurry to return to Michigan, either. . .

I can say that our new grand-girl is a certifiable cutie (but honestly - if she were homely, would I tell you that?)  Photos we've seen, we see both her parents in her; she has her daddy's cleft chin (no idea how that got to him).

So, the grand-kid counter has been spinning wildly out-of-control for the last few months.  Let me see if I can make an accurate count. . .

- Two have been placed for adoption
- Three were born in 2014
- Three have been born in the last nine months

So, that's eight, counting just by DNA.

But there are also

- Three siblings to one of the adopted kids, with whom we have a relationship, and who call us 'Grandma' and 'Grandpa'
- 6F's 3-yr-old step-daughter (did I mention that 6F got married this past winter?)
- Two (and maybe three) of 3M's step-kids, who are young enough that they'll be part of our family moving forward.

So six, maybe seven more; and all of a sudden, we have 14 or 15 grandchildren.  Forgive us if our heads are spinning, just a little bit.  But the times, they sure are Interesting. . .

Well, Here We Are. . .

When I'm Sixty-Four (John Lennon - Paul McCartney)

When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now,
Will you still be sending me a Valentine,
Birthday greeting, bottle of wine?
If I've been out 'til quarter-til-three
Would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

Every summer we could rent a cottage on the Isle of Wight, 
If it's not too dear.
We shall scrimp and save
Grandchildren on your knee - 
Vera, Chuck and Dave

I could be handy mending a fuse when your lights have gone.
You could knit a sweater by the fireside,
Sunday mornings, go for a ride.
Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

You'll be older, too. . .
And if you say the word,
I could stay with you.

Send me a postcard, drop me a line, stating points of view.
Indicate precisely what you mean to say - 
"Yours sincerely, wasting away."
Give me your answer, fill in a form - 
Mine forever more;
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

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When I got up this morning, Birthday Breakfast was waiting on the table for me.  And there are rumors that my kids and grandkids (none of whom, oddly enough, are named Vera, Chuck or Dave) will be joining us for a celebratory meal, which may or may not culminate with pumpkin cheesecake. . .

Looks promising, indeed. . .  ;)