Love in the Time of Corona: Update 11

Sunday, July 19, 2020 (Day Three of Solitary)

Being confined to a room in one's house is a fascinating experience.  The family check in on me from time to time, Diego less so.  At 17, he seems put out by everything and everyone most of the time, including me and my annoying COVID scare.  Jackson and I even watched a movie "together" last night (me on my makeshift bed in the office and he on the living room couch).

I'm really only "quasi-" or "semi-" isolated, and have noticed restrictions loosening as the dirty dishes pile up.  (It's good to be needed...)

But seriously, I do place value on limiting contact until the lab results are in.

Yesterday, I spent some time working on our family "Emergency Binder."  I printed out a form for our memorial preferences, and realized a few things, in real time, about myself as I filled one out.  One is that I don't want to be buried, I want to be cremated.  Another is I don't want any of my end-of-life stuff to happen in Texas.  I started in New York, and I want to finish my current adventure there, as well.  I want everyone to gather in the Union Church in Pocantico Hills, surrounded by Marc Chagall's stained glass windows for my memorial service.  And whether they allow it or not, I want my ashes to be scattered in the Cherry Esplanade at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, where I sat on a bench in the rain with a beautiful young woman who is now my wife.  I'd never met anyone who made getting rained on seem like such an amazingly pleasant experience.

I also realized I want an old friend, Nate Dudley, to preside over my memorial.  He knows what I'm about, comes from a good spiritual and political place, and can officiate in both English and Spanish, a necessity, since approximately fifty percent of my loved ones are Spanish speakers.  When I texted him we promptly had a FaceTime conversation, and caught up after many years.  We asked after each other's families, compared notes on what opening our respective school systems might look like, until I finally, nervously asked the question I had originally texted him about.

Elder Dudley's answer to my entreaty was perfect:  "Very honored by your request.  Thank you.  But let's make a date in 30 years.  2050 sounds good."

Sounds good to me too, Nato.  Sounds good to me too.  

Old pal, and church elder, Nate Dudley, with his two greatest creations 

Love in the Time of Corona: Update 10

Saturday, July 18, 2020

(Day Two of Solitary Confinement)

Slept poorly last night in my new cell.  Too quiet without the rhythmic din of my bride's snoring.  I tried all the usual remedies -- reading, meditation, "self-care," but nothing worked.

Everything about this is upside-down.  Having to wear a mask and gloves when I venture out of the office is one strange part of it.  But the oddest piece, and one I admit I failed to anticipate, is that I'm unable to touch anyone.  I've developed, it seems, an almost physical dependence on the touch of my loved ones -- the feel of my wife's lips on mine, the hearty fist-bumps of my teenage sons, and even the solace of watching my dog fall comfortably asleep as I stroke her soft, stinky coat.  (Yes, the instructions they gave me at the testing site included "Do not handle household pets.")

My deepest sadness comes from realizing, early on, that the vast majority of those 600,000 people who have died of this disease have done so without the comforting hands of loved ones holding theirs.  When it's time for me to go -- and I'm confident it won't be for a long time -- this is all I ask.  I don't need to b e surrounded by six Vestal Virgins, waiting to show me the way to paradise.  I don't even need a holy person, reading last rites.  All I'll want when my day comes is the feel of a familiar hand, the sound of a familiar voice telling me it's okay for me to move on to my next adventure.

Sometimes you have to let the dark thoughts come

Love in the Time of Corona: Update 9

Friday, July 17, 2020:  Solitary Confinement, Day One

The first of these updates came to me on March 10, so if I consider that my "Day One," today is Day 129 of thinking seriously about this virus.  In fact, the thinking I've done today is the most serious I've done so far.  This morning, after my usual cup of black coffee, I began being bothered by a pain in my left side.  It intensified and became a full-on cramp, and just as quickly, and out of nowhere, I was kneeling in my bathroom, heaving the few contents of my stomach into the toilet.  J. had to leave for work -- a temp job as a bilingual social worker helping refer people for COVID services -- and suggested I try a bath with Epsom salts.

I took her advice, but found no relief.  When she called to check in, the cramps were even worse.

"Get dressed," she said.  "I'll find out where you can get tested."

I had sweated through the t-shirt I'd put on after my bath, and the thought that this could be the coronavirus sent me into a bona fide panic.

"Please don't let me have it, please don't let me have it, I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die."

I muttered this mantra quietly but aloud, in the privacy of my bathroom.

Then I remembered my children.  And I became strong.  For them.  I refused to allow my fear to become theirs, so I calmed my breathing and told my older son Diego I was going for a quick checkup and that I'd be right back.

I got the nasal test -- a very long swab sent in through the nostril and down the passage and held there for about ten seconds.

And now I wait three to five days for my result.  I'm feeling much better and still have no fever; however I've moved into my home office, where I'll be in isolation, at least until we get the news, assuming it comes up negative.  Obviously, if it's positive, my isolation will continue for the prescribed 14 days.  

I'm confident I don't have the virus, and am staying optimistic, while staying isolated.

My fingers are crossed, my spirits are high, and I'll keep everyone posted....

The author, in Solitary, Day One

Love in the Time of Corona, Update Eight: The Resurgence

Image Credit:  Fortune Magazine

My state -- adopted state, I should say -- of Texas is now in the news, along with several others, due to a disturbing surge in the number of cases of Coronavirus.  Simultaneously, my native state of New York, after having spent weeks as the hellish epicenter of this pandemic, seems to be a making a nice recovery.  I only hope they can sustain it, or at least hold on for as long as it takes the scientists to come up with a vaccine for the damn thing.

Why the spike in cases here?  Many are second-guessing the governor, saying he re-opened too quickly.  Others almost seem to blame the "Come and Take It," rugged individualism attitude they perceive Texans to have.  As one friend in New York jokingly said to me on the phone recently, "What is it with you people? First it's 'you can't take my guns,' and now it's 'you can't make me wear a mask.'"

If I had to pick one or the other of these two theories, I'd be more likely to pick the former, just based on my own personal experience.  The people I see when I'm out shopping seem to be using an abundance of caution, as far as masks and social distancing are concerned.

However...upon saying that...I recall that just after Governor Greg Abbott reopened the state, I did see a noticeable, if brief, rise in the number of shoppers without masks.  Apparently, that may have been enough to cause this frightening "spike" we're currently in.  So I suppose the correct answer to my multiple choice question on why we are in this predicament might just be "(c) All of the above."

Most recently, Abbott has tightened things back up.  While not fully "locking down," he has put restrictions back on bar and restaurant owners, who were already suffering.  

I feel for them, and for all of us.  Even the most reclusive among us are longing for things to go "back to normal."  (Though I don't think "normal" will ever look the same again.)

But as Brooklyn's own infectious disease expert Tony Fauci put it, the best and fastest way to do that is by continuing to stay home as much as possible, and to maintain social distance and wear masks in those instances when necessity forces us to venture out into this scary, new world.

30 Hikes in 30 Days: Day Seven: Crockett Gardens Falls

Day Seven:  Wednesday, June 24, 2020

Crockett Gardens Falls is a 7.6 mile heavily trafficked out and back trail located near Georgetown, Texas that features a lake and is good for all skill levels. The trail offers a number of activity options and is accessible year-round. Dogs are also able to use this trail but must be kept on leash. -- alltrails.com

The first of our new Hiking Rocks collection

When we set out on the 40-minute drive up to Georgetown, the rain began to fall.  We were a little discouraged, but decided to press on.  The hiking gods were kind to us, and the rain fell only briefly. The trailhead was clearly marked, and we had the whole parking area to ourselves (probably due to the rain).  The trail itself was only slightly muddy -- not bad at all.

The author, at the trailhead

 One piece of advice I can give to my fellow parents who hike (or hikers who parent) is the following:  Don't go hiking when you know you have to be home at a certain time in order to drive your kid to work.  I say this, because this is the kind of trail you could spend a long time exploring, and we just weren't able to.  In fact, we don't consider our time at Crockett Gardens complete.  It's Part One.

My lovely bride had the great idea of picking a rock to take home to commemorate our hikes from now on, so that was a new development born out of our trip to Georgetown.

There's not much else to share, other than a general impression that this is definitely a trail that's worth your while.  A bit of garbage, but I honestly couldn't tell if it was left behind just beyond the garbage can, or if maybe an enterprising racoon had pulled it out.  Generally a lovely place.

And yes, to paraphrase General MacArthur, "we will return!"

The author and his lovely bride

30 Hikes in 30 Days: Day Six: Mary Moore Searight Metropolitan Park

Just some of the many wildflowers at Mary Moore Seabright Park (Photo credit: J. Reyes-Fuchs

Day Six:  Sunday, June 21, 2020

Mary Moore Searight Park Trail is a 2.1 mile heavily trafficked loop trail located near Austin, Texas that features a river and is good for all skill levels. The trail offers a number of activity options and is accessible year-round. Dogs are also able to use this trail but must be kept on leash.

Those of you who have read previous installments in this series with a keen eye for detail may have noticed me wearing my Adidas Stan Smith sneakers.  While great for tennis and general metrosexual, quasi-retro stylishness, they're not ideal hiking shoes and were starting to take their toll on me, in the form of some painful low-grade plantar faciiatis.  I'd imagine if you're a hiker -- especially of "a certain age group" -- you're probably familiar with it.  If not, I do not wish it upon you, nor would I ever.  If you don't take my word for it, go ahead and google it, and be thankful you haven't had the pleasure.

This is a long-winded way of saying that my lovely bride bought me a pair of good Columbia brand hiking shoes as a Father's Day present, so that I could continue our hiking adventures pain free.

Before...

... and After

Excited to break in the new kicks, I followed my iPhone's directions to . . . the Borden Milk plant??  That was as close as we were able to get to our intended destination -- Colorado River Park Wildlife Preserve.  If there is an actual entrance or trailhead, we never found it.

Not to be discouraged, my lovely bride suggested we check out "the park next to Paredes Middle School," a place her work had taken her on several occasions.  Aside from its existence, she didn't know anything more about the place, other than that it looked nice from the outside, and caused headaches for the staff at Paredes, who occasionally had to chase down naughty students who chose to sneak off into the park next-door for a variety of reasons one can only imagine.

As it turns out, it is called Mary Moore Searight Metropolitan Park, and was a major find.  There are a tremendous array of wildflowers all around, and a big field that I'm sure was normally full of people, pre-Covid.  

One of many lovely flowers (Photo credit J. Reyes-Fuchs)

While it wasn't the original plan, we thoroughly enjoyed our hike, and managed to get a little turned around, as is our tendency.  But we were given directions by a very nice scout leader, and found our way out eventually.  

One note of caution:  while the trail was by no means "crowded" in the conventional sense of the word, there were definitely more hikers, joggers, and dog walkers than we've seen in any other park we've visited so far, so if you're concerned about the virus, you'll want to have that in mind.  But whether you choose to go now, or you wait till our numbers improve, I have no doubt you'll enjoy Mary Moore Searight Metropolitan Park.  

And by the way, the shoes worked out great!

MLB, looking stylish and proud of the excellent hiking shoes she got me

30 Hikes in 30 Days: Day Five: Bastrop State Park

Friday, June 19, 2020

For more than 70 years, folks have visited Bastrop State Park to enjoy its history and marvel at the Lost Pines. Forest fires and floods have ravaged the park in recent years. Now comes rebirth: new trees, new plants and new life. Come see the park’s recovery from nature’s fury. We’re just 32 miles east of Austin. -- Texas Parks & Wildlife website

Map of the park, at the Scenic Overlook

We'd been living in Texas for just over three years when the brushfires raged across Bastrop in 2011.  I can remember the constant bonfire smell in the air, a slight burn in the base of my throat, and a dark cloud on the horizon that was vaguely reminiscent of one that hung over our home in New York City ten years prior, after the attacks that toppled the World Trade Center Towers.

This was our first trip to Bastrop since that devastation; we'd taken our boys to the Capital of Texas Zoo in Cedar Creek not long after making our move southwest.  I don't want to dwell too much on the damage that was done by the 2011 fires, because, as the website's blurb above suggests, one does see amazing, inspiring evidence of rebirth and regeneration when one hikes the trails of this majestic park.  However, the old-growth trees that now stand like blackened gravestones command your attention in a way that cannot be denied.

One of the many "tree gravestones" at Bastrop State Park

The deep black of the countless burnt out trunks has an interesting, ultimately beautiful effect:  somehow all the colors that surround it are enhanced -- the blue of the sky, the green of the pines and brush, the copper brown of the soil, and the white of the sand, which the pines apparently love.  

A blackened tree trunk, bringing out the colors around it

As far as the hike itself, my lovely bride and I enjoyed it thoroughly.  It was the longest we've done so far, my iPhone health app logging nearly 8 miles and 23,000 steps, and, as such, a good reminder about the importance of perseverance and going on when you think that you can't.  (This may have been due to our choice to "go with it" when we realized we'd gotten off the red trail, known as the scenic overlook loop, and onto the purple trail, which is significantly longer and takes you through the lovely Lost Pines section of the park.  

The author, asking a Lost Pine if it needs directions

This may be a bit of a stretch, but I think there was something about the resilience of this amazing piece of parkland that may have inspired me to finish my 7+ miles.  Mother Earth has a way of coming back from even the most devastating blows, natural or man-made.  As I sat in a bit of found shade, I took a few sips of water, caught my breath, and looked out at the burnt out timber, surrounded by flourishing, new growth, stood up, and said, "Okay.  Let's do this."

And we did.

My lovely bride, enjoying the splendor, and ready for an ice-cold Topo Chico