Monday was the winter solstice; thus the shortest and darkest day of the year. Let's hope that with the gradual return of daylight in the coming months, we will like what we see.
Not only are we currently surrounded by an incomprehensible volume of death on a daily basis -- worse than D-Day or 9/11 -- but our local economies are unraveling like the loose strings of a ragged old sweater. Piece by piece our neighborhoods are dying.
Recently I saw my three youngest children, all in their 20s, sitting masked and distanced and outside in the sunny chill, and the main thing they talked about was the fate of some of our favorite local shops, cafe, and friends.
"She said she just had to close up. She couldn't make enough money to keep going any longer."
"I heard their rent was so astronomical they announced they were closing last summer. Then customers came up with a plan to help them through. But now...I don't know."
"She's stopped looking for work. You can only take so many rejections before you have to take a break from it."
"Everybody's living at home with a parent now. Nobody can afford their own place."
"It's hard not to blame yourself..."
It was painful to listen to these bright, attractive young people describe what has become of what might have been a high point in their lives. And they are not complainers, they've all worked hard at school and in minimum-wage jobs for years.
So I couldn't help myself; I had to say something. I started by reminding them of my career and how to outsiders it looks so impressive. All of these big jobs at well-known places, awards and words of praise from so many people.
"But for me, the year-to-year reality of living that life was not the way I thought success should feel," I started. "Pick any random year, I don't know, let's say, ah, 2006. (I had to pick one they all could remember.)
"I had just broken up with J and I was terribly depressed. I knew the company where I worked was in trouble (it later went bankrupt). I'd lost my appetite and lost all that weight. I couldn't sleep. One night, rather than toss and turn in my bed I went out to my car, parked on the next block, and went to sleep there.
"I thought to myself, a person could stuff the tailpipe with a sock, turn on the engine, suck in carbon dioxide and just doze off forever. But I didn't do that. When I woke up the next morning, I realized it was late, and I backed the car out smack into another car with two guys sitting in it. (In our neighborhood at that time you never looked directly at people sitting in their car because usually something was up.)
"I was terrified that I had caused some damage that would now cost me my next paycheck. But the two guys in the other car, I think they were Chinese, didn't say anything. They got out, looked at the deep scratch in their car's bumper, shrugged their shoulders, got back in their car and drove away."
"That year would get worse before it got better, but that was the moment -- when the guys drove away -- that I knew we were going to pull through. You gotta read the signs. And you gotta ride out the shitty stuff."
Then we toasted my youngest son, who just completed his senior year in college. He's not sure whether they will be having a graduation ceremony.
***
For me, this winter season feels like a time of renewal. All around me, I see people planting seeds (figuratively) for projects that may be blooming in the coming spring.
We are all sick (literally) of being isolated and fearful of this fucking virus. And yesterday was the shortest day of the longest year, and our collective grief would overwhelm us if we allowed ourselves to honestly feel it.
But we can't do that yet. There will be a time for the guilt that we survived this darkness, when the vaccinations take hold and we are finally freed of this scourge. Then we will be able to mourn.
But then we will also want to sing the words from the old spiritual, "Free at last. Free at last. Thank God almighty, we are free at last!"
***
The news:
* Trump has turned to a fringe group of advisers peddling increasingly dubious tactics to overturn the results of the election, creating a dire situation that multiple senior officials and people close to the President say has led to new levels of uncertainty at how Trump will resist the coming end to his tenure. (CNN)
* Coronavirus cases spiking nationwide. A chill, existential and literal, setting in once more. And now: a winter likely to be streaked by a soundtrack of sirens instead of silver bells. (AP)
* Covid Prompts Families to Shun Nursing Homes, a Shift That Appears Long Lasting -- The pandemic is reshaping the way Americans care for their elderly, leading more families to decide to avoid professionally run facilities as services expand to support in-home care. (WSJ)
* The Coronavirus Is Mutating. What Does That Mean for Us? -- Officials in Britain and South Africa claim new variants are more easily transmitted. There’s a lot more to the story, scientists say. (NYT)
* Sen. Mitt Romney (R-Utah) warned that the Russian cyberattack against U.S. agencies and companies could potentially “cripple” electricity and water systems. [HuffPost]
* Americans are numb to the staggering coronavirus death toll (WashPo)
* Texas and eight other Republican-led states will ask a federal court to rule the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program unlawful, posing a fresh threat to the Obama-era program offering deportation protections to young immigrants.(WSJ)
* Hospitals Are Still Short on Masks and Other Protective Gear (NYT)
* White House secures corporate meal tax deduction in draft of coronavirus relief bill (WashPo)
* The Kilauea volcano on Hawaii’s Big Island is erupting, the U.S. Geological Survey said. The eruption began late Sunday within the Halema’uma’u crater. [AP]
* Frontline Workers and People Over 74 Should Get Shots Next, C.D.C. Panel Says (NYT)
* Barr will not appoint special counsels to probe Trump's election fraud claims, or Hunter Biden (Reuters)
* More than two million people passed through U.S. airport security checkpoints Friday and Saturday, a sign that pleas to avoid holiday travel are being ignored. [AP]
* Covid-19 has sickened more than 16,000 of California’s 800,000-plus farmworkers, yet only about 80 have taken advantage of state quarantine housing. The problem: testing barriers, miscalculations and fear. [CalMatters]
* Big Tech's stealth push to influence the Biden administration -- Silicon Valley is working behind the scenes to secure senior roles for tech allies in lesser-known but still vital parts of president-elect Joe Biden's administration, even as the pushback against Big Tech from progressive groups and regulators grows. (Reuters)
* Apple temporarily closed all 53 of its California stores in response to the state’s coronavirus surge. [The San Francisco Chronicle]
* California hospitals discuss rationing care as virus surges (AP)
* Britain faces isolation as world tightens borders to keep out new coronavirus strain (Reuters)
* She Called Police Over a Neo-Nazi Threat. But the Neo-Nazis Were Inside the Police. -- Death threats linked to police computers and the discovery of far-right chat groups in police departments across Germany have fed concerns about far-right infiltration. (NYT)
* Trump administration weighs legal immunity for Saudi crown prince in alleged assassination plot (WashPo)
* Peru suspends flights from Europe as coronavirus cases near one million (Reuters)
* Nepal Falls Into Political Turmoil. China and India Are Watching. (NYT)
* Tyson Promises Meatpackers Who Die From Coronavirus Will Not Go To Waste (The Onion)
***
And today is my sister Nancy's birthday. Happy Birthday, Nance!
The Rose
That drowns the tender reed
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless aching need
I say love, it is a flower
And you, its only seed
That never learns to dance
It's the dream, afraid of waking
That never takes the chance
It's the one who won't be taken
Who cannot seem to give
And the soul, afraid of dying
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed that with the sun's love
In the spring becomes the rose
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