March 7-13. Memories of Troy and the Virus Is Established

Saturday March 7

Trying to get other Greenport Democrats to help get petitions signed and distributed for primary candidates, but I think Michael and I will have to do most of the walking. 

 

Talked to Jim Dolan and had my usual infuriating argument with him over his Trumpish positions in spite of his life long dedication to getting Democrats into local office.  At the end of our fights, he always insists he's yanking my chain, but hmm'

 

Michael reported that yesterday he found Diane munching thread off a spool He pulled on the end of thread in her mouth and extracted about ten feet. “I didn’t want to tell you about it until I knew she’d be ok.” Ridiculous cat.

 

Went to Matthew and Andrews beautiful home down the road for their petition signatures and to talk about property assessments. Their property popped up by 200k as ours did. Matthew wanted to hire a lawyer but this is most likely wasted money. We're discovering after looking at our comparables is that the southern Greenport assessments are probably fair, given that we cidiot have shoveled our urban wealth into the land around here and increased the values.

 

We drove over to Gene's for his signature and to give petitions for him to hand out. He's in bad shape.  HIs daughters aren’t talking to him and are limiting or keeping him from visiting his grandchildren. He hasn’t been invited to one of the birthday parties in March and his daughter said, “I love you but I don’t like you.” I told him my daughter didn’t talk to me twice for two years each. He expressed surprise but had no interest in hearing why. And of course that’s why his daughters don’t like him. He has no interest in anything that isn’t a reference to him.  I imagine as a dad he liked to pontificate and lecture, which was probably double annoying because I suspect he was boozy at the same time. As parents we have a lot to atone for but I don’t think he’s reflective enough to take responsibility. Nevertheless, he's all alone.  His dog is dying, his wife seems to have gone gay, and he’ll probably lose the house that’s been in his family for 150 years. He’s no monster, just a bumbling old white guy who means well. They should show him some kindness and give him a fucking break. 

Napped in the afternoon then off to Liz and Geoff's for sausage and sauerkraut from the loony Alpine Pork store. Richard W and Dave were there. Also Susan, a pale small woman, who is a genuine celiac case so totally forgive her gluten free meal demands. Her background is in textile conservation but her business is fundraising for non-profits engaged in historic conservation. Not an insignificant business, since her major clients are the Windsors, for whom she raised money to support their properties, which are insufficiently funded from English taxes.  We only found this out toward the end of the evening so lost the opportunity for insider gossip. I asked why they hired an American firm, and she said that Americans are much more generous givers than the Brits, with the ironical conclusion that America is now propping up the monarchy. Richard W has put his Long Island house on the market for about 700k. 

 

More Coronavirus cases, everyone bumped elbows when we met,

 

Sunday March 8

My brain spent part of my insomnia time last night with an odd earworm—building a family tree for Elmer Fudd.

 

Dropped by Dave’s to see the new kitten. He’s having ankle replacement surgery on Wednesday and will have to spent 90% of his time for two weeks lying down with his leg elevated. 

 

Went to le Gamin for lunch.

 

Afterward, we decided to use this gray March afternoon for a drive to Troy, the entertainment center of my youth, which after years of blight has been revitalized by the northern splatters of New York City wealth and is now supposed to be hot, or at least hottish. Siri directed us to the historical district, which turned out to be the transformative center of my youth. 

 

As we followed the Google map, I spotted the Troy Music School, recalling my dismal early years as an untalented pianist.  Here, the steep dark stairs still lurch up from the front door, perhaps leading to the same huge dreary room, empty except for the baby grand backed against a window filmed with dust. There, my bucktoothed teacher with her knitted cap threatened me with the lethal monotony of Czerny scales, until one day I threw the book against the wall and never played again.  

 

We then walked across the street to the site of Frear, a department store built in the nineteenth century where we did our rare, special-event shopping. It was the setting for two traumatic teenage events: buying the wrong dress for my deeply humiliating junior prom, and hearing my mother tell me that Lee, my older sixteen-year old sister and hero, was pregnant while pulling over my head a blue dress that I chosen for our school's winter festival. 

 

A block away is the dead movie theater that opened up the world to me every Saturday. Its weathered facade still promising the parting of the Red Seas in the Ten Commandments and the caramel coated melodies that spunky Doris Day used to inspire my early fantasies.  The afternoon that I learned about Lee's pregnancy, I left her and Mom to dramatize my new reality there with a sleazy B film showing hot girls and fast cars. When it was over, I walked down to the end of River Street to meet my father at his office, where he worked as chief cost accountant at Cluett, Peabody, Inc., manufacturer of Arrow shirts. While he drove us home I wept at him. "Why did this happen?  Why did this happen?"  He met my sobbing questions with helplessness.  "I don't know. Sometimes these things happen." I was alone in a new universe where smart tough protective sisters can inexplicably become fast girls and gone.

 

Still, these are now dead-horse memories that I've kicked around for years, and those streets were reminders of them but ghosts rarely stick around commercial properties. The buildings that served as the settings for those intense experiences have evolved into a backdrop for this small upstate city to remind tourists of its history of corporate betrayals. 

 

Frear went out of business in the 70s, a victim of shopping malls.  The building has been recently saved for retail, including salvaging the atrium and part of the sweeping staircases with its wrought iron balustrade curving up the back wall. From what I could see through the windows, however, the space itself has been streamlined and dry-walled, and certainly the pneumatic tubes no longer suck up canisters of invoices and receipts with a satisfying whoosh. 

 

Cluett, Peabody closed its Troy shirt production in the early 80s after nearly 100 years and is now preserved as a chunk of its original industrial brick that supports a luxury apartment complex.  

 

The memory lane walk ended cheerfully with a very present tour of Troy’s Maker’s Space, where Michael and I were guided by a nerdy man just in his sixties, maybe a former RPI professor, who said he could afford to volunteer because he was now supported by his uncle. “And,” he asked slyly,’ Do you know who my uncle is?”

“Uncle Sam,” I answered. 

He seemed to be annoyed and been a bit disappointed by my response. I think this was his set-piece joke, in fact maybe the only one he knows. 

I added, “And he was born here.”

“What?” 

“Uncle Sam.  He came from Troy.”

“Oh yes.” but he looked confused. I can't imagine that he doesn't know this; apparently he just doesn't do well with flow interruption.  However, he recovered quickly and trudged on, leading us with affectless pride through 15,000 square feet of equipment, computers, and machinery that members can use to create almost anything they want to DIY their entrepreneurial dreams. 

I'm not optimistic but it would be terrific if these tiny creative cottage industries could financially survive, multiply, and replace, like early mammals, the corporate dinosaurs that have ruled the world for too long.  And that the district in Troy that they form will be remain alive with energy and never become historic. 

 

It was a nice afternoon. Want to go back on a Saturday when the farmer’s market is open. Troy is supposed to a be a very foodie town now.

 

Made steak in the cast iron skilled and we watched Mrs. Maisel afterward. I’m liking this series so much. 

 

Killick still with us but fading.  

 

Monday March 9

Lunch with Jim Dolan at Tanzy’s. Talked about the coronavirus, local races, and Board Of Elections. Pretty benign conversation. No liberal bashing. 

 

Beautiful day. 70°. Came home to fix up the new compost pile, which was gratifying. However, I can’t bend very far with my arthritic hips, so does not bode well for gardening. 

 

Talked to Willy for a long time. It’s Samantha’s birthday, and he’s very unhappy. Wants to know how long this pain is going to last. I didn’t want to tell him that it lasts about 20 years.

 

Our visiting nurse Judith came for our annual check up at six, provided by our insurance company. Her license plate reads "Elfnurse" which is entirely accurate. She’s 4‘10“ with a sturdy square body and a wide face that expresses shrewd intelligence and occasionally a careful chuckle. She’s also a major talker. This is her third or fourth year visiting us, and I'm always unprepared for the length of time it takes—usually about three hours, and this one started at 6 PM before dinner. She usually has good stories about her family, with one this time about her daughter‘s wedding in June. And the check up is useful and always very thorough, but she always has problems with the patient record system, invariably a recent upgrade. And she chatters all through the examination. She also does a quick mini-mental exam, which would typically make me anxious, but each year it's the same.  She asks us to remember three items: penny, watch, and apple, so by now I remember them from the previous years (plus having an Apple watch is an obvious mnemonic). Today I told her what they were before she asked the question, so I passed brilliantly.

 

She didn’t leave till 9:30, and started noticing me fade around 9:00 and commented sympathetically. When she left, in spite of warnings about human contact, she gave me a very uncharacteristic hug. I think she attributed my slumpy weariness to my cancer, not to my hunger or my hope that we’d have time to see another Mrs. Maisel episode before we went to bed. 

 

After she left, I pulled some bean soup out of the freezer, which looked grim and Dickensian but tasted pretty good. We watched a Mrs. Maisel episode, which again reminded me of my stand-up fantasy, which I've harbored off and on for decades.  In the eighties, for example, I drummed up a stand-up routine on the way back to work from my periodontal surgery.  At the time, in my head it was hysterical but alas my head was also floating on a post-op opioid-benzodiazepine-anesthetic cloud, so the routine actually never made it back to the office. A friend of mine, who actually was incredibly funny, did an open mic at one of the improv clubs in town.  Unfortunately, she lost her nerve and bombed. She later became an Episcopal minister, where I'm sure her sermons rock her congregations.

 

Tuesday March 10

Got to the Army kitchen this morning. Faye and Lisa, another volunteer, were already there. Lisa is half Irish half Italian, from Yonkers, and has been in Hudson since 1993. But Yonkers still thrives in her voice and in her energy. Because my own energy is so low and today the van from the homeless motel showed up with ten extra guests, it was great to have her there. We made chicken cacciatore, pasta, and salad, which all turned out really well, with several complements from the diners, except for crabby Janie, Glenda’s sister, who predictably complained about the spiciness of the sauce and wanted us to scrape it off the chicken.  “Tell her to scrape it off herself,” Faye told Charlie, who was serving. Faye is never grumpy but Janie gets to her. 

 

Spent the afternoon processing and freezing various vegetables and leftovers. I made an amazing avocado soup for dinner, which will never happen again, because it included the stock I made from Harris’ smoked chicken and my hatch green chili puree. Served it with chicken piccata and farro.  So good and never to be repeated again.  

 

Watched more Maisel.

 

Wednesday March 11

Went to St. Peters for oncology visit, much of it spent talking about to Dr. Luyun about whether he should take his kids to Disneyworld, given the virus.  Three cases now in New Mexico.  Sarah will be working from home, good.  Glad that Al already does.  

 

Had a late lunch at Gracie’s, where I ordered a very tasty tough local steak, which will get me through dinner.

 

Home to edit my diary, including the December 22 entry, when I put on my new snowshoes and shuffled down to the pond. Michael had to help me with the binder so I decided just to keep my boots locked in so I won’t have to reattach them when I went out again.  That was the last time I used them.  No snow since. My walking is somewhat worse anyway. With every step my joints pop like tiny firecrackers.

 

I found three articles online mentioning Michelle as a possible Veep candidate; she'd make such a good one. 

 

Watched a lot of Maisel.

 

Thursday March 12

Spent the day fretting over the Coronavirus and worrying about all my kids. Five cases in New Mexico now. More in New York two miles from Willie. More in Oregon. More in LA. Willie is coming to tomorrow. Geoff. Kim and Julian also coming through over night after picking Julian up from college. SUNY schools closed. Our moron administration still doesn’t have enough tests.

 

Friday March 13

 Coronavirus obsession all day, with constant browsing news and Commentary on our phones or listening to pundits on the radio.  

 

Had my infusion at St. Peter’s, where we were greeted by a barricade and quartet of questioners who assessed our risk before we went in. The nurses were not wearing masks, however, even in the infusion room. Only two cases in Albany so far but who knows? Cuomo has gone ahead and been producing tests, given no help from Washington, and has set up drive through testing in in New Rochelle, where there has been large infection outbreak. 

 

We stopped at Relish for lunch. Dana gave us a container of chicken salad before we left, and said there were not many customers. Trump gave a speech on the afternoon finally announcing a national emergency and promising millions of tests from the private sector, with a bunch of CEOs standing behind him from the big retailers. No toilet paper anywhere in the world!!  

 

Picked up Willie at six thirty. His school is closed this week so he’ll be here at least till next weekend.

 

 I made cauliflower Parmesan, which was major hit. Ginny called after dinner, described suspicious symptoms in one of her homeless guys and we urged her to call the health services. 

 

Geoff, Kim and Julian arrived about nine thirty to spend the night. All the SUNY colleges are closed and Julian is going home for the rest of the school year. We continued to talk about the virus until Julian told us to change the subject. I told him that obsessing on it was a security blanket. Kim looks exhausted. Her job as head of parent coordinating on her Queen's school district has her comforting the many parents who call asking why the New York public schools are still open. 

 

Killick peed on our bed. A very bad sign. I’m now awake at four thirty am searching Google trying to find out if my immunotherapy is protective against the virus.

 

February 29-March 6. Sick Stomach and Encroaching Corona

Saturday February 29

Spending day in bed after two vomiting bouts. Might be result of gallbladder meeting pork belly yesterday or corona virus or just a vomit day. Not a nice reminder of chemo. 

Reading Tim Kreider's essays, which are great.

 

I don’t understand February. Why didn’t the people who invented the calendar just take one day away from August and May and give them to February, so it would have 30 days for three years, then 31 on the fourth. Every month then would have either 30 or 31 days. Thirty days hast September, April, May, August, June, and November. All the rest have 31 except February, which has 30 and 31 every four years.  Doesn’t quite work.

 

Sunday March 1

Did nothing today. Streamed Howard’s end on PBS and then one episode of Find my Root, in which Angelica Houston found out she's a distant cousin of Larry David and Bernie Sanders, who then are also related to each other, which makes sense. Then I ate half a disgusting meatloaf sandwich and Michael and I watched the episodes of Hunters, ultra VI Nazi hunters. Stupid day.

 

Monday March 2

Feeling better but still washed out. Slept well last night with little arthritis pain. No wine for two nights. Maybe I should give it up. Coronavirus in Manhattan. Worry about Willie. 

 

Lying on the couch in the office feeling like a nineteenth century invalid. Great room full of sunlight but the couch is a folded up futon and slowly edges me down into the corner. 

 

Had a cryptic text exchange with Ann. Found out there was a social worker job available in town working with “challenged” adults, which became open when Donna, Gene's to be ex wife quit.  Ann responded that she didn’t want it, which is fine but her answer was weirdly stiff and formal. 

 

“Sorry to hear you’ve been sick.  I’m fine but not really interested in working with COARC population. Did it years ago and don’t want to do it again. Thank for thinking of me.”

 

"They are adults. Does that make any difference?"

 

"That’s who I worked with. Not interested."

 

I guess what’s bothering me is that I was hoping this might open up a conversation with her. We don’t talk anymore, and the only time I see her is if I initiate it. Maybe that’s always been true but if she moves back to Cincinnati and that will be the end of the friendship. She's so rigid and irascible right now. I don’t think she likes me much. I think her inner Catholic has always disapproved of me. Or maybe it’s all text tone. I could call her of course but that would mean having a real conversation. Maybe I don’t like her any more and my inner Protestant is judgy judgy. 

 

Binged on “Shrill” on Hulu all afternoon. Good natured and soothing but predictable and not very funny comedy about overweight girl finding herself. No appetite still slightly nauseated and fatigued. Put a pork roast into the slow cooker anyway.

 

Getting a little nervous about the corona virus. Talked to Willie.  Carol Smith back from Milan has to be quarantined for two weeks but Richard is making her crazy because, as Willie describes it, he skulks around rearranging his most recent collection on the shelves—tiny trains with tiny people in little villages, which she hates. So she’s decided to go to one of those workspaces that you can rent. I told Willie that I believed quarantine means you stay away from all people, not just those in your company. 

 

Watched more of the Hunters. Ugh. Bad Homage to Tarantino, which is bad enough. Inauthentic history, no compassion, exploitive violence, and seventies filler music. Also the cast is politically corrected (black, Asian, and lesbian hunters provide diversity so the viewer isn’t subjected to too many hunting Jews). In fact, the show reeks of anti-Semitism in its mushy stereotyping every Jewish character, action, and reference. Hava Naguila, for example, seems to be the only Jewish song the writers know, or believe it's the only song their viewers will recognize. They play it not once but twice, first absurdly hummed as a protest by concentration camp prisoners and then at a wedding where the young Jewish hero, who has become depressed by his fellow hunters' incessant blood letting, dances with fellow guests and gets his cultural joy back, so he is not able to go on slaughtering old Nazis with impunity. Finally there’s scenery chewing Italian Al Pacino as the great Jewish overlord. Please. 

 

Tuesday March 3

Still tired. Watched British Antique Road Show, inspired by Jill’s recommendation. No appetite for lunch but managed to eat some soup at night. Read Tim Kreider all afternoon and was subsequently depressed by my lack of writing skills and persistence. 

 

Tried to organize a Greenport committee meeting and cc’d Jim Dolan, so Carrie emailed back and said she was quitting the committee. She pointed out that I had promised her Jim wouldn’t be involved. Our committee is totally dysfunctional. We need to get petitions signed for Delgado but Michael and I are the only ones to walk the street.  Stuart and Carrie are on the committee because I told them they wouldn’t have to do anything. Janice Brodowski is on it but she’s also on the town council and has regular baby-sitting duties, so no interest in actually doing canvassing. Gene is still on but is miserable about his life and thinks everyone hates him. The only one who actually might get petitions signed is Jim. 

 

Talked to Willie about whether he should buy a gallon of hand sanitizer. I said, why not. It’s a preventive measure against corona. I suggested he divide it into squeeze bottles and bring one to school, requiring his kids to use it when they come into class.  

 

Watched John Oliver and results from Super Tuesday.

 

Wednesday March 4

Managed to get up for the CCDC officer's call at eight, which I never do. Keith and Erin were the only other officers, and were talking about the Chatham Committee’s complaint that the CCDC hasn’t communicated what went wrong at the Board of Elections last November. We should have had a post mortem, but Erin is the best person to do that since they works at the BOE, and she couldn't because she was running against Virginia and listing the screw ups would have been interpreted as biased self interest. I suggested that Ken Dow, now officially our BOE commissioner, might do a presentation on the problems and show he’s fixing them. Keith thought that was a good idea but then Erin added, “He hasn’t asked about them.”  That’s bad.

 

I complained about Greenport’s dysfunctional committee and asked Keith to talk to Carrie. 

 

Six new coronavirus cases in Westchester. Too close to Willie for comfort.  I texted Geoff and Kim, who have been down with the flu.  Neither they nor Jill and Al have been vaccinated. That is so worrisome.

 

Read more Tom Kreider. Such a good writer that now I’m totally depressed. 

 

Killick killed a mouse. Sad but also a victory for the ailing senior!

 

Lunch at the new Relish with Harris and Neville. Dana doing well. Appetite still lousy. 

 

 Harris is doing a painting of Neville as King Tut. Looking forward to seeing it. Neville has gotten coerced into helping a friend with an installation of tepid watercolors at the Maritime Museum near their apartment. He’s paying her $25 an hour. Harris said if she works slowly she’ll make $75. Of course this is a good wage for most of America.

Went to relish for lunch. 

 

Spent the afternoon editing the the week before Christmas diary entries.  They are like post-it notes on time's bulletin board. The pleasure of editing them is to turn these disappeared events into stories, including some misremembered inventions.  

 

Went to the monthly Greenport Town Meeting, Kathy running it with her usual folksy warmth.  She's good. She joked about John the water guy's sweater, which made him bob his head and chuckle. He's very shy and his long mumbling presentations usually go unheard, as it did tonight, although they invariably involve repairing ancient pipes and equipment, so probably we didn't miss much. 

 

Police report included finding an old man and his dog wandering around Walmart in bad shape.  Lots of part time positions were approved, including the regular replacement of one of our cops, who make $20 an hour with no benefits. The job is a continual revolving door, which the rookies use for training until they can get a full-time position somewhere else. Don't know if this hurts the community, though. Probably not.  

 

Public comment included complaints about 100 black vultures hanging around houses that are near the County Waste Management Department (i.e., our dump). They leave their droppings on roofs and also sun themselves on a line of dead trees Even more disturbing they pea on their legs to clean them. Someone suggested they are attracted to the dumpster at the near by Red Barn Restaurant. They are also drawn to a back yard with chickens and goats. One woman suggested, “Maybe waiting for the goats to drop dead.” She uses bangs a pot to scare them off her roof. 

 

Another woman thought there were too many solar farms being built in Greenport. I don't think you can have to many.  I like them, sweeping down hills in sculptural waves.  

 

Went to Wunderbar afterward and had a salad. Still not much appetite.

 

Thursday March 5

I feel most immortal during the ordinary routines-- sitting on the jon, putting on my socks, poking at my phone—when the self that I've always known is so consistent, so mechanical that it seems impossible for her not to Be. Mortality erupts with love and sex and childbirth and pain and creation, when the inevitability of death and loss becomes clear as that dull self disappears into the crack of ruptured time

 

Our town properties were assessed last week and our value went from about 500k to 700k. Michael has spent the last few days hunting down sales of comparable properties to find lower numbers, but prices of comparable houses to see if we can get it lowered. Unfortunately there are no comparable. We have an odd contemporary house on 72 acres of conserved land that only can be used for farming. We had an appointment with the town assessor, an attractive smart and sympathetic woman who basically agreed, but didn't think our assessment would be reduced.  I don't get that.  Our land can't be subdivided because of the conservation easement, which certainly should bring down the price. I spent the afternoon searching county sales of contemporary houses like ours—not including the acreage we own, with the discouraging conclusion was that she had given us a deal. 

 

I processed chili sauce and stock and made pulled pork. Happy to want to cook and eat again! 

 

Off to the CCDC Executive Committee meeting tonight, which planned for the upcoming election season, including consideration of the coronavirus.

 

The virus is creeping toward our kids.  Cases in Westchester are rising dramatically only slightly north of the area in the Bronx, where Willie is living. An outbreaks has occurred in Portland, near Jeremy's apartment. One case has been reported in Bayside and so far nothing in Albuquerque. Kim has the weird conviction that the virus was over because Bayside has a large Chinese population and no one contracted it. Of course our incompetent government has only tested about 1500 people in the whole country and there could be thousands of stealth carriers walking around. The CDC screwed up its first test and hadn't allowed other organizations to develop their own until now. They are finally spitting out 75,000 this week but that’s far from enough. Private sector should be pushing out about a million more in another week.

 

Friday March 6

Spent the morning grocery shopping, and heard an old fart complaining about the new plastic bag ban. “I hear they might reverse it because the non plastic bags have the Coronavirus on them.” 

I made the obvious response, “We have to get red off plastic bags. They’re ruining the environment."

“People bring them in and they’re dirty”.

Couldn’t actually disagree with this. “Well people just have to wash them. People have to become more responsible.”

“Well yes they do.”

A triumph of some small sort.”

 

Walked to the pond and it’s gone down, with weird green vegetable matter floating on it. Paul will have to drain it I guess. I hope early enough so that it will fill in time for swimming. 

 

Made tacos, coleslaw, and panna cotta for dinner with our not-so-new neighbors Farrell and Beverly, who live in the barn apartment where we spent so many years. Good Democrat newcomers. They signed our petitions. Beverly is a powerhouse.  She has made documentaries, run five restaurants in New York City, owned a farm, and taught at a college in Montclair NJ until last month. They have lived in Montauk, Staten Island, Cooperstown, and Brooklyn. She is now working with virtual reality and has just bought a mapping systems that allows projection of images onto objects. She has an autonomic disease in which her blood pressure suddenly switches and she falls over. She’s being treated for osteoporosis, but she's very tall so it hasn't affected her height much. Farrell is an artist and I like his work a lot.  Whimsical, dark, funny, dangerous expressionism.  He had been showing in a local gallery whose owner just retired.  Talked about whether the new owner will show his work. Nice evening. 

 

After they left, Michael and I watched the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, which I had rejected last year after watching part of the first episode. Now I think it’s terrific, a gorgeous and warped representation of the fifties. And she's funny and brilliant. 

 

February 22-28: The WebMD Murder and More BOE Bashing

Saturday February 22

Killick is still with us. The diuretic is relieving his breathing. I did a major grocery shopping. It is sunny today and everyone in the store seemed on good spirits. We headed out in the afternoon to see Congressman Delgado in a town hall in Churchtown but when we got there, the parking areas and road shoulders were jammed with cars, we just drove on and wandered the back roads with a lazy exploration of the area. 

 

Just as we got home, Janet dropped by to visit Killick and told us they had adopted a kitten. I think if we took in another cat it would be a grown up. 

 

Loaded the car with our trash and went to the dump. Afterward we drove through Hudson down to the river in search of the Fugary fishing shacks, once used as residences by fisherman and sportsmen.  Eventually they became vacant and squatters took over until they were evicted in 2012. These wrecks had been patched over the years from wooden, glass, and steel trash to form shelters.  Now, in the winter light their textures and colors, and the slipshod angles that propped them up formed a beautiful sculptural collection.   Some money is available to preserve at least part of this area. Haven't heard of anything happening though.

 

Made ham steaks and sweet potatoes for dinner and watched Unforgotten

 

Sunday February 23

Story in the Post about Wayne Gattinella, WebMD's creepy former CEO, and his lover, who was found strangled and hurled down the trash chute of the apartment that he rented for her in the Zeckendorff Towers on Union Square. The NY Post inexplicably referred to him as "flashy".  He was very short, with the personality of a terrifying accountant, and a scary flat stare. During my interview with him for my job, the only question he asked was how I might contribute to revenue, leaving me with the conviction that was not going to be hired. Turns out he could give a pea about editors, so I was ok.  Once I was in the elevator with him alone after I had questioned some policy at a company meeting and he turned, stared at me, and said very slowly, “hello carol.” I told everyone later it was like being greeted by a shark. Once he tried to smile and it was chilling. My bet for the sanitation worker is on Wayne. Lara Prychodko, his dead girlfriend also worked for WebMD. I vaguely remember her as a pleasant, formal assistant I think to Wayne.  

 

These days sometimes when I'm just sitting I can feel time flow around me while I’m in the center of it, unmoving, comprising all changes, including in non living objects and the degeneration of my own body. Once I get up and start moving I become a participant in time and this feeling goes away.

 

Went out to dump compost and cat litter. Beautiful sunny day in high forties.

 

We went to Great Barrington for a bagel club (Michael) and chicken Reuben (me). Lazy day. 

 

Watched a Betty White documentary and really great British Garden Show, with WASP heart throb, Monty Don.  Depressed after by the memory of my weedy over grown garden last year and the discouraged by the upcoming summer, when I don’t think I'll be much better.  

 

Went to Ca Mea for dinner. Ran into our neighbors, Andrew and Matthew, whose lively little pug dog Mr. Greenberg is failing. Not a good season for our pets.  

 

Monday February 24

Stupidly warm and lazy day with temperatures up to 60. Lazy morning. Talked to Patty for a long time about her business. She's thinking of setting up a business called Horse Whispering, marketed to corporations for team building at $10k a weekend. She’s still in Florida until April. Dominique is spending a lot of time there showing and riding her horse and working remotely for Google. She broke up with her boyfriend of two years over the holidays, but unlike Willie and Samantha, Dominique and her BF are texting constantly. Patty and I think she and Willie should bar hop and check out potential mates for each other. 

 

Discovered a great iPhone feature that automatically creates a Ken Burns slideshow using facial recognition for identifying friends and families. Obsessed for about an hour. 

 

Went into town for lunch at Dana’s new Relish in Hudson. She said she sold 600 lunches her first week, more than she had during her 14 months in Catskill. Space is great and I’m back on the menu as the eponymous tuna sandwich. 

 

We did a short hike after up Harrier Hill at the north end of Greenport Park, which is an easy walk and gives a long view of the Hudson and Catskills. Very gratifying. 

 

At home, processed red and green chili and pasta sauces. Made turkey meatloaf and spent an hour on Face Time with Willie shepherding him through a pork cutlet (although he didn't think my instructions made the cutlet crusty and dark enough). He walked me through his strange apartment, with his roommate's plants and soil-filled pots perched on every surface in the living room so that there is no place to sit, so they don’t use the room.  Willie's bedroom is like every bedroom he’s ever had—small, cluttered, with random posters on the wall, 

 

Killick still with us.

 

Tuesday February 25

 

Army this morning after a very fitful sleep. Found a bunch of pineapples in the cooler along with two big bottles of almond coconut milk and teriyaki sauce, so I made an ersatz Hawaiian dish, pouring the sauce over drumsticks that Faye seasoned and adding the cubed pineapple. Margaret was there— her last day, before moving north. Jim Krisniski came by and gave me a gift card to the Red Barn for commenting on his book, which so nice of them.  I was knocked out by the time I finished working on the lunch, so. Faye and Margaret kicked me out before the service was over. Went home and slept for an hour. Not many side effects with the treatment but anything I do with any intensity spikes up my adrenalin and then exhausts me. 

 

Had an annoying call with Stephanie Sussman and Keith Kanaga in the afternoon.  She wants me to change my minutes from the last executive meeting to reflect her ponderous thoughts on how to fix the election process for the Board of Elections. I was able to convince her that my minutes weren’t a transcription and I probably shouldn’t have gotten onto the weeds at all on trying to record the discussion. So she agreed to let me cut everything the said except for a brief statement. Then, Keith asked if Enid Futterman's attacks on Erin and the BOE was influencing the Claverack committee, i.e. implicitly leading to getting rid of the CCDC's officers.  Enid is a Claverack member, and Stephanie gave a lengthy response (Stephanie can always be counted on to be lengthy) claiming ignorance and ended with, "Ask Enid." Stephanie, however, rules her committee like the Jewish mother she is and had previously supported Enid's accusations, (“She used her journalist background to investigate.”). Enid isn't a journalist, she has a website that aggregates local information. Sometimes she writes something, like her ad hominem attack on Enid. B. Her "investigation" was two phone calls to former bosses (one of home was Virginia), with whom Erin had pretty intense arguments with and one to the campaign she was involved with and abruptly quit after the sudden death of her father. Enid's "investigation" didn't include all the people who had benefited from their work with Erin (like Michael and me during Gene's campaign). Nor did it included talking with the four staff people who had quit the BOE because Virginia’s poor management. I don’t think Stephanie and I can be friends again. Stupid politics. 

 

Michael went to a planning board meeting and I made a pasta fagioli with too much pasta. He came home in time for the South Carolina Democrat debate. I thought Bloomberg did better than others, although my uneasy preference for him was based only on his tenure as mayor of New York when I was having a really good time there.

 

Wednesday February 26

Slept late. Off to see Dr. Marici, my new primary care doctor, and spouse of Dr. Marici my gynecologist. I spent my time in the waiting room creating an imaginary relationship between a gray bearded man wearing a cowboy hat and multi colored jacket, who was pushing a walker, while a stony faced woman kept pace with him a few feet away.  Her resentment seemed deeply burrowed into her face. I imagined him as once being a lively attractive rogue, now crippled with arthritis and sour about it. She first viewed his disability as an opportunity for reining in his philandering and creating dependence with aggressive nurturing.  “Can I get you anything?” “No.” "Are you sure? Some soup?" Growl.  Finally, she realizes that she is left with a bitter old man who was only occasionally faithful and never funny with her as he was with his friends and never affectionate after the first few years of their life together.  Or maybe he has a terminal disease and they are both still deeply in love and miserable about the upcoming end.

 

Visit with Kathleen Marici was uneventful and she encouraged me to talk to my oncologist about a hip replacement. She has a pleasant rough quality, very different from her careful obsessive husband, but I like them both.

 

Came home and made a successful pineapple upside down cake, polenta, and mushroom sauce to mate with the smoked chicken that Harris and Neville are bringing. They not only delivered the chicken but a bottle of wine they had been given that had cost $180. We all drank it first while I read online what we were supposed to be tasting—notes of pear (“ oh I got that, “) Meyer lemon (got that” “I didn’t"), herbs and spices (“that doesn't mean anything. Cheap shot.”). Then we slugged down the rest of the bottle and continued to the twenty-dollar stuff. 

 

We watched Bombshell about the downfall of Roger Aisles, played by an excellent John Lithgow. And then we followed up with a documentary on Aisles, so now I know everything I need to about him. Enough to feel a bit sorry for him, but not to forget the havoc he’s caused. (I can feel sorry for anyone if I get deep enough into their stories.) Harris and Neville spent the night. 

 

Thursday February 27

Reading Tim Kreider’s memoires, currently my bathtub book. I’d like to write that way about myself and the people around me. 

 

Went to Otto’s for breakfast with Harris and Neville, after which we separated.  

 

At home I spent the afternoon optimistically buying vegetable seeds from Johnnyseed and Hudson Valley Seeds (much less expensive but Johnny seed is employee owned, so I like to split my purchase).  Worked on diary edit until it was time to go to Valatie for CCDC meeting.  I asked Carrie to fill in for the minutes.  I wanted to sit in the galley like a regular member.  Keith introduced this year’s candidates for three Assembly seats and one Senate race, who all pitched themselves with great enthusiasm and many Democratic catch phrases. Year after year, we get valiant volunteers to run and year after year we lose to the upstate dismal Republicans.  Didi Barrett, our own Assembly member is the only Democrat to have won any of these races.  There’s always hope.  

 

A series of speeches followed on the Board of Election debacle.  Most were supportive of Erin, bashing the personal attacks on her.  At the end Virginia spoke, referring to her decade of service at a difficult part time job that she worked full time.  She’s worth a lot of sympathy.  Her downfall was partly due to the increasing complexity from early voting, electronic poll books, and more pressure from our committee to provide list information to our local campaigns in the previous election.  But she also discouraged fraternizing with the Republican counterparts at the BOE, when collaboration was essential to deal with the current changes. The initial CCDC endorsement, which was such a tempestuous election and which Virginia won over Erin, was actually only a recommendation sent to the Board of Supervisors. This is our county governing body, dominated by Republicans, but even the Democrats on the board wanted to get rid of Virginia.  So the full board first rejected out recommendation and then so did the Democrat caucus. The CCDC then had to have a second election, in which Virginia could run. I had hoped Erin would win, but she lost to Ken Dow, a somewhat nebbishy former BOE supervisor who slipped into the nomination on cat feet.  They approved Ken, who is now our Board of Elections Democratic Commissioner.  He’s a lawyer but seems a bit uncertain to me, and it’s not clear yet if he’s any more capable than Virginia to man the fort during this year’s tough political war.  At the end of the meeting, it seemed clear that most of the members wanted this internal drama to be over, but I think my friendship with Stephanie is done.  

 

Friday February 28

Jeanine came to clean and took a break while I was upstairs at the computer to talk to me about ghosts. 

 

It’s been almost two years since I was diagnosed with the anal cancer and over a year since I learned it had spread to my liver and chest. My immunotherapy has been benevolent and, if it hasn’t conquered the disease, it has pummeled it into a few crumbs. Cancer now is my back seat driver, which I ignore until I have some thought about the future, like whether we can beat Trump in November.  Then the voice in the back says, “You might not even be around then. Keep your eyes on the road.” This is not an emotional response, just a reminder to focus on the present. It’s why I wrote this diary. 

 

Today was punctuated only by a trip to Kingston where Michael could deposit a check. We had lunch in Saugerties at Lucy’s kitchen, where I ordered a ban mih with pork belly. It was like a BLT in heaven, although it languished in my own belly well into the rest of the afternoon. 

 

We stopped at the vets for a refill of Killick's diuretic, which is still keeping him with us.  

 

Home to the diary editing and then a makeshift dinner, repairing the pasta fagioli by removing most of the pasta and adding more beans and ham. 

 

Watched the first episode of Altered Carbon, season two, but we don’t love it as we did the book. Watched two episodes of Evil, with gorgeous Mike Colter playing a priest in training who assesses demonic possession and miracles with two skeptical partners. I liked it much better perhaps than Michael did. 

 

 

 

February 15-21 Cooking for Friends and Killick Dying

Saturday February 15

This morning Willie played me a short Catholic mindful lecture that advised recording everything you do and labeling it as “depleting” or “nourishing”, so here goes so far.

Shower. Nourishing

Squeegeeing the shower. Depleting

Taking vitamins. Depleting

Putting on skin cream. Depleting

Choosing clothes. Nourishing

Putting them on. Depleting

Seeing Willie at the table. Nourishing.

Making fruit and yogurt. Nourishing

Talking to Willie. Nourishing

Listening to Willie’s video. Nourishing.

Looking at news on iPhone email. Depleting [Note: I reviewed this list months later and realized that looking on news on my phone was not "nourishing" and I switched this item to "depleting".] 

Spent the afternoon playing a teener fantasy video game with Willie.   Not sure of it was nourishing our depleting. I got very sleepy.  We went to Le Perche for dinner, which was good but I don’t love it.  Had a bitter argument with Michael and Willie over their bread, which I think is burnt, tooth-breaking, soured dough, and generally depleting, but they like it for incomprehensible reasons. Went home and watched Snatch. We’re on a Guy Richie bender.  

Sunday February 16

Spent most of the day cooking.  Green chili stew, polenta, some kind of cake with fruit, and a coleslaw that wasn’t that successful. Gaming with Willie for a couple hours till five.

 Dinner at six with Richard, Liz, Geoff, Ann, Stuart and his friend Ann. She’s a successful public relations rep for Corcoran Realtors and about to retire in Albany. Tall sturdy and blonde, she is further blessed with an apartment on Gramercy Park, which she has owned for 47 years and is now leaving. I asked what she wanted to do post work. She announced proudly that she plans on doing “nothing”.  Most of the general talk involved real estate. Stuart has a potential famously wealthy buyer of an old stone house in Claverack, which had a ten-year property tax debt, from which the owners deserted in the dead of night.  Richard fretted about his house on Long Island that’s he’s prepping for sale. Sturdy Ann made comforting noises about the rising housing prices out there. She also explained a confusing new law that, if passed, would prevent real estate sales people from getting a fee from renters. She seeks to have a comprehensive knowledge of all things proprietal.

Before Liz left she brought out an old calendar from the late sixties, which Richard-ex had gone through making comments and drawing little cartoons. All funny and snarky and stylish. She left it with Willie so he could photograph the pages. I owe my friendships up here to Richard-ex, through whom I met Harris, Liz, Ann. and Richard Wallace over 40 years ago. Everyone is now upstate and he doesn’t see them anymore.  Feel guilty since I think he withdrew from the life we had after our divorce and left some great friends and kids behind when he did.

Will pointed out later that Our Ann didn’t seem happy. She made the dubious claim that she had more friends in Cincinnati than here, which as far as I can tell are her charming gay friend Dan and her son Eamon.  She dumped all her female friends out there after various small irritations. And she not only has our group, but her brothers are within a short drive, and she's made friends with several neighbors.  I feel she is scrutinizing me these days for my own irritants. Perhaps she's looking for a reason to move because she hasn’t found anything here that makes her feel useful and is not too physically taxing but can provide some reasonable substitute for the critical adrenal rush that she required in her past work. She won’t find that in Ohio either although maybe what she's looking for are dependent males to fret about. 

Killick is getting frailer by the day. Why is an old cat or dog more lovable than an old person? 

Watched the Zen of Gary Shandling, which is very moving

Monday February 17

Slept late and did not go to mass with Willie, who came back depressed. Unless I’m cooking or sitting with a frail or neurotic cat on my lap I’m feeling relatively useless. I’m letting my arthritic pain hold me back from anything physical. Just dumping the compost is a loaded inertia experience, hauling myself up, hobbling out to the pile, bending and straining to retrieve the rebars holding the tarp down, pulling it back, and dumping the compost pail, inevitably missing the pile and having to scrape it back in.

Went to movies at 1:30 to see The Gentleman again, which I figured would cheer Willie up.

Did major gaming. Then roasted a chicken in the skillet—best method ever. Continued watching the Zen Diaries of Gary Shandling.

Tuesday February 18

Willie went to the Army with me today and helped smush meat loaf and smash potatoes. Nice Margaret was with us. She and her husband are moving to Saratoga, which is too bad. She’s great. A article in the Register Star reported on Galvan's reneging on providing us the good space for the new kitchen, which is downtown a block away from the projects and low-income housing, where all our diners live.  They've offered two other spaces, one a former auto parts store and another next to a beer store—both at the eastern borders of Hudson heading into Greenport. No one could ever get there.  Unwalkable.  I'm hoping the article will do some good, although it has pissed off the Galvan. 

Watched Tim Heidegger's Oscar special in the afternoon and then dropped Willie off at the station at four thirty. He’s still miserable. 

Put together chili for dinner and then watched John Oliver. Avenue 5 and an episode of Unforgotten

Wednesday February 19

Long night with broken sleep and two baths. Slept late. Lunch with Jim Dolan at the place that has taken over DABA, which fortunately didn't resemble. The bar was crouched against one wall in front, with the main dining area in the back. It still was difficult to be there. Food is simple. I had a turkey burger. Jim greeted a couple fat guys at the bar. One was Paul Colarusso, whose family has owned the local gravel pit in Greenport going back generations. He's the classic rich guy in the small American town, a good Republican and local citizen who no one in Greenport opposes. The Hudsonians do.  There's a current battle over the waterfront, where Colarusso trucks down their gravel. Greenport and Hudson lie side by side next to the river and Hudson wants to prevent Colarusso from extending a road from Greenport to the river. Their opposition is ridiculous since the road would allow big gravel trucks to sidestep the city streets, which they use now to get to the river.  I don't get it.

Jim Dolan was full of Hudson childhood stories, reminiscent of to Jim Krisniski’s town memoir. Both draw a vivid picture of this city, oddly diverse for its small size, with distinct blocks of poles, Italians. Irish and blacks clustered along a few streets. At its peak Hudson had only about 10,000 residents, and now there are even fewer, slightly over 7,000. 

In the afternoon I put together the minutes from the last CCDC meeting. Ann had called feeling anxiously pressured to host tonight's 300^th Democratic debate, but we both agreed it would go on to late. She then complained about our mutual gynecologist who has insisted she revive an appointment with her oncologist that she failed to make two years ago. I agreed that this was a little obsessive, but didn’t think it worth leaving him over. I've had a very good experience with him and it's hard to find competent doctors in Hudson. 

Talked to Willie. His crazy friend Nick wants to fix him up with a friend of his wife. Willie first agreed but has regretted it since.  He’s not ready to date, but it might be ok if the setting was a dinner or event with all four of them. 

Jill's chilies arrived!  Now I can make it through the winter! Made creamed chicken and then we watched the debate. Mayor Bloomberg was on the stage tonight and the only one not playing some weird attack role. I think they are all feeding the media's frenzied need for sport. Bloomberg was more deer in the headlights.  God what a terrible process. 

I figured out how to walk and even bend nearly pain fee but keeping my left leg stiff. 

Thursday February 20

Michael off to a bleak house meeting in New York with his fellow patent victims. Twenty years of this with barely enough money from infringement fees to pay the lawyers. 

Meanwhile I had vague plans to go to the grocery store but decided to be lazy. Made stock. Replenished the compote. Roasted a pepper, listened to radio and aftermath of last night's debate. Finished CCDC Executive Committee minutes.  

Took a hobbled walk up the driveway for mail and dumped the cat shit. Then spent the afternoon expanding the diary entries, which is fun but strange to think that in a month or two I will try to explain this nothing February Day. 

Michael was home at six thirty and we went to Wunderbar, where we briefly ran into Ken and Anna, our flamboyant neighbors all gorgeously wrapped up for winter and back from a Cruise island hopping through the Mediterranean. It was just the two of them, a captain, and a cook on a schooner. Next week they are off to India. They have such pure guilt free money happiness. What is that like? Right now we have an influx of phony money from Trump's stock market. I’m sending Jill some and not sure what to do next. It will go away soon. I suspect we should shed it.

Friday February 21

If I bend from my right hip I can go lower and it doesn’t hurt. And if my left hip is straight walking is less uncomfortable. That makes sense. 

Had infusion this morning and then came home and took Killick to our vet Elaine Tucker, who told us he was dying of heart failure and probably won’t last through the weekend. She said she will come to our house and put him to sleep when we’re ready. She’s a wonderful beautiful person. We first met her in early 2014 after we moved into the Barn for good, and Bonden developed lung cancer. By February he was so debilitated that we had to carry him to his food. We searched for a local vet that would euthanize at home and found Dr. Tucker. On the morning of that year's biggest snowstorm, her husband drove her to the apartment where we he waited for her, while she put Bonden to sleep.  She looked like an angel, kind and gentle. She checked to be sure it was appropriate to put him away and then he sat on my while she gave the injection. It was disturbingly fast—no slowing of the breath, no "going to sleep". He was just gone. Yesterday she told us she was away for the weekend, “I’m leaving tomorrow at 4:00 AM but if you need me before 3:00 AM I’ll come out.” She have us some diuretic pills to reduce the fluid in his lungs, which should buy us a couple days, at least till she comes back. They helped him last night so I hope he makes it until Monday. It's so incredibly sad as you know to lose these furry companions.

Was sad all day. Watched master chef and became disgusted with myself. Did a search for the show's impact on its contestants. Almost no one ended up a professional chef. The talented winner of the one I just watched is a Tesla sales person.

 Made dinner with a beef sausage that was almost too spicy to eat. Sarah called filled with rage over being asked to take care of her Aunt Debbie's cats and dog after she had fallen and broken her leg. We pointed out that Sarah didn’t actually have to do this. Debbie has three grown children who also live in Albuquerque and could take care of the animals or pay someone to do it. Sarah went on to rage about incompetent colleagues at her job and about her back pain. After the anger sputtered down she revealed that she was actually up for a promotion and told an hysterical story about a cultish chiropractor she went to. She reminds me so much of Ann, enormous outrage at every request for her time and effort, as if they had no free will to refuse without incurring overwhelming guilt.  

Watched Unforgotten.