May 30-June 5. Riots, Patty Visit, and Sarah's Birthday

 Saturday May 30

Riots in NYC while we slept over the death of Floyd George and all the other brutal and unnecessary deaths of black men and women. What a dismal time. I wish our Phantom in the White House would dissolve. He’s such an ugly sad man.

 

Dave came by and I asked him if he had had any contact with Anne. He had asked her over three times, but each time there was a reason why she couldn’t come. So not sure what’s going on. Maybe it's not just me.

 

Geoff and Kim coming up in a couple weeks stay socially distant in the little house, with meals on the deck. Looking forward to that!  

 

Had a Face Time drink with Harris and Neville and plan on getting together live during the week. I’m starting to feel the effects of the radiation, and I’m not drinking wine because it is too acidic for my radiated esophagus and liver. I'm also pretty fatigued but managed to do some weeding, which is always a tiny but gratifying triumph.  Also cooked farro and spinach to match up with the skirt steak that Michael grilled. Watched the Name of the Rose, grim and good, followed by cheery Larry Sanders.

 

 

Sunday May 31

Waffled between constipation and diarrhea yesterday and today I am just feeling lousy. 

 

Spent the morning correcting mistakes in the Recovery Kitchen Facebook page and Go Fund Me campaign. Asked Pam Kline to be a fellow administrator, and she was worried that I didn't want to do the work anymore. I told her I just need a back up in case I felt too lousy to make needed changes. She had fallen downstairs this week, and said that she falls a lot. She’s a terrific person, deeply and modestly involved in so many worthy causes. 

 

Watched Cuomo’s press briefing this morning, not only about the virus of course but also the George Floyd protests. I thought he did a good job making suggestions for reform, but until we have universal healthcare there will be no major step toward reducing racial discrimination. Everybody must have the same access to medical care. Of course universal healthcare doesn’t eliminate racism, but at least it reduces the differential. 

 

Side effects whacked me. Slept all afternoon. 

 

Ordered in from Wunderbar but couldn’t eat much. Watched Good Fight and a Sanders. Collapsed

 

Monday June 1 

Last day of radiation, and felt much better today. Talked to Duncan Savage with Michael in the car on Face Time. Stopped at Cascades for take-out sandwiches. Home to some crippling weeding. 

 

Watched news and commentary on the George Floyd protests, with our President threatening to send the troops into states run by Democratic Governors, whom he claims can't control all those looters, ignoring the great majority of peaceful protesters and the basic injustices they are opposing

 

Willie is trying to find a new game for us. I rejected the 70-hour Greek epic that featured a fit warrior running through various famous ancient architectural structures or swimming or rowing through the Mediterranean and periodically whacking someone.

 

Made schnitzel for dinner and watched Nick Hornby's State of Union, charming and smart series about marriage with Chris O'Dowd and Rosamund Pike.

 

Tuesday June 2

 

We’re supposed to have lunch with Harris and Neville but canceled because of weather.

 

Protest in Hudson yesterday but Kamal Johnson, our young black appealing mayor and Peter Volkmann, our compassionate police commissioner, created a calm environment, with the only looter being a bear ambling through town and trashing garbage a few hours after the march. 

 

Pam Kline asked me to organize a Zoom meeting for the Recovery Kitchen committee. I fooled around with it in the afternoon and then fixed some entries in my lists of restaurants. Meeting was pleasant, and included Carole, Pam, one of the chefs, and a very nice man, Jamison Teal, who hands out the food to the drivers.  Nice funny people with good hearts. 

 

The weather was a little raw today and I didn't get out. Michael and Willie put the final patches of the garden together, so I can spread seeds tomorrow. 

 

Michael went spread algae killer on the pond, which was worrisome because it requires precautions against getting any of the powder on your face or your clothes. He couldn’t finish it because of the wind. 

 

My $100 boneless ham arrived from its Amish farm, where I hope its life was happy. I made ham steaks for dinner with spinach and rice. Still don’t have much of an appetite. We watched the Good Fight and the last Larry Sanders, which was very sad. I also finished my Scott Turrow's latest book. I could read him forever.

 

Wednesday June 3

 

Diana is sitting on my lap and pretending to be relaxed. She tries so hard to please, she defines cat ADHD: impulsive, twitchy, with an occasional over stimulated nip, but not mean. 

 

Went to St. Peter's for appointment with Dr. Luyun. Managed to escape before his long winded-description of new and old house problems. My blood work is all good. 

 

Worked on my restaurant lists in the afternoon. Should have gone out and weeded but still tired and not a lot of energy, probably from radiation.

 

 Made a curried chicken for dinner, which worked out fine.

 

Watched a dysfunctional and Incomprehensible Zoom Greenport Town Board meeting. I don’t know why Kathy doesn’t wear a mask. I should call her on it, but not up for any confrontation. 

 

We watched Space Force, an odd incoherent series with Steve Carell and John Malkovich set in the near future.  No wit at all, it’s a half-cocked family sitcom coupled with an incomprehensible relationship between Carell (the Space Force leader) and Malkovich (the scientist I guess) in charge of a weak and ineptly envisioned government military agency set in the West. The writers couldn't decide whether Carrell is incompetent or a really decent guy, and Malkovitch just yells all the time and looks bemused.  The writers are from The Office, and this should be great but it isn’t,

 

Thursday June 4

 

Grocery shopping this morning, which more or less knocked me out for the rest of the day. I must develop more stamina. 

 

The baby fawn was back this morning huddled in its little place by the south wall. Very cute, but after it remained there all day and into the early evening, I became worried and annoyed with Mom.  I went out and walked toward the corner of the house where it was still lying in the grass.  He saw me but didn’t move, and I made some kind of a noise that made him get up and run into the brush, I hope in the direction of Mom. I was told later that fawns have no smell but the does to, so the mother hides are baby at a safe distance from herself, but stays vigilant during the day. Everyone is social distancing. 

Patty came up for a visit so Michael could transfer the information from her old computer to her new one.  First human we’ve talked to non-virtually since the quarantine, other than nurses, doctors and grocery clerks. 

 

Dominique is quarantining with her and gets frequent texts and emails about George Floyd from her white Google colleagues, asking her if she’s OK, and how this must be a terrible experience for her. Nicky wondered if she was their only black friend. She said, “Don’t they realize that these events have been part of Devon’s and my life since we were born?” Devon lives outside Barkley Center and has pictures of the protest outside his window, but he hasn’t joined in.

Pat showed pictures of her totaled Prius, hit by a FedEx truck outside a small town South Carolina when she and Dominique were coming back from Florida. Neither was hurt but after the car was towed away, they had to walk a few miles to get to a town where they hoped they would find a place to stay, eat dinner, and rent a car. They did find a motel but the town was closed down and there was nothing to eat and no place that rented cars. They went to bed hungry, and a local kid drove them to the nearest town that was big enough to have a diner and a rental agency. 

 

While Patty was still here, I had to take minutes for a Zoom Columbia County Democrat Executive Committee meeting. Everyone was filled with righteousness over the George Floyd incident. Keith, our chairman, asked for suggestions on what the Dems should do about George.  Lots of well-meaning blather about doing our own protest, an educational forum, or both to demonstrate how liberal and supportive we are of the black community, from which early everyone on the Committee lives at a safe distance, except for a couple black members. I offered a lame opinion that to reduce racism we have to alter all the systems that create inequity, not just go after the police departments. We need universal healthcare, an education system that doesn’t favor rich property owner, criminal justice. Was pleased that Billy Hughes, one of our two black members, said I was absolutely right, a minor triumph. No one else was very interested in tackling these ideas. Keith dismissed them, saying we aren't able to do anything about issues that go beyond local control.  So in end, it was decided that we'd sent out an email to ourselves expressing our hatred of racism. 

 

Ginny called later and said she and the nuns would ask Dorothy Day to intercede for me, with the hope for a miracle cure and sainthood.

 

Full moon insomnia and twitchy legs. Tidal thoughts lapping around the shore of the mind. Useless meditation. Reading Stephen King's On Writing, which makes me want to write but I have nothing left to say.

 

Friday June 5 Sarah’s birthday

 

Infusion today. Don’t have to go back to Albany for three weeks. Yay. 

 

Made some suggestions to Carl Atkins’ report on corona virus, which has been nagging me for a couple weeks.  

 

Picked up the vegetable plants for my garden from Dale Baker. They look much livelier than in the last couple years.

 

Jill wrote me an angry email, one of her blasts from the past, with accusations of disloyalty to her by not Facebook defriending Experience, her old frenemy. I had told her I'd do this two years ago when we were in New Orleans, and I blocked Experience when I got home, but didn't make the final execution.  Jill checked up on Facebook and saw that I was still listed as her friend.  There's no good response that I can make. I’ll give it a couple days and then write Jill about something entirely different and hope she’s gotten over it. 

 

Geoff and Kim had thought they make it up here late tonight instead of tomorrow, but didn’t make It. Just as well. I’m exhausted. . I sat in the bathtub and obsessed about Jill's email. 

 

Managed to make pasta with beyond sausage, so Willie could have his Catholic Friday night dinner.

 

Sent Sarah the usual boring Amazon gift card that I send to everybody now.

 

Watched Dave, a quirky comedy about a Jewish guy with a small penis who wants to be a rap star called Little Dicky. Pretty funny. 

 

May 23-29 Tractor Scooting, Radiation, and Memorial Day

Saturday May 23

Slept well! No back pain! Thank you Advil and Tylenol! 

 

Today Willie was struggling with his weekly Dante meeting with the chronically insecure and unhappy Romanian professor. He was determined yesterday to delay the next meeting for a month, which he did and she then correctly interpreted as a rejection of this weird non-courtship. From how Willie describers her behavior though—dominating the discussions with her own close reading of the text—I believe her feelings of rejection are not romantic but intellectual. In any case this is weird situation, one of many weird quarantine relationships all over the world. 

 

Writing this the next day, it's hard to even remember what I did. A beautiful day and I never quite got outside. Mostly I was happy all day long because I was pain-free. I should’ve taken advantage of it and I didn’t. But it was great to be able to stand up and sit down without that initial ouch. 

 

Willie and I started a new game but it was too infantile. I edited my diary and fixed some CCDC lists. 

 

Michael grilled sausages for dinner. We watched The Heist. 

 

Sunday May 24

 Beautiful day. I’m determined to get outside and dig in the garden.

 

With my double dose Advil/Tylenol, my tractor scoot, and my great plant recognition app, I was able to weed around the front of the house for an hour without slaughtering any flowers. After hauling weeds for a few minutes, the small basket hooks to the back of the scoot was full. It slid off easily, and I dumped the small load into the brush. Then I tried to slide the basket back, on which looked ultra easy when Michael did it, but, given my mechanical/spatial/ disability, the easy insert bar attached to the basket, wouldn't hook on to the scoot. I was sliding it in and out under the seat and swearing at myself.” You moron!” And suddenly three feet away against the back wall of the house the tiny spotted fawn, whom we had seen dancing around the day before yesterday, leaped up with a yelp and dashed across the yard to the brush where his mother appeared. He had been hiding in the mugwort by the south wall, and I hadn’t seen it at all! (I did finally figure out how to hook the basket to the scoot, and it was stupidly simple.)

 

 

After, I used my feisty little electric lawnmower to trace out the path between the old flowerbeds, so I could see which scruffy plants might promise blooms. Tomorrow I’ll identify the flowers with my wonderful app, and weed it out the junk on the tractor scoot 

Michael grilled chicken breasts and I heated up leftover vegetables for a very simple meal. I

 

I am wiped out at night probably because of the latest treatments and I don’t have much of an appetite. However I was able to scarf down a piece of Willie's cheesecake. Watched another Name of the Rose and Larry Sanders, then to bed. Good day.

 

Monday May 25 Memorial Day

 

Patti called early in the morning to talk about the challenge of having visitors during this tough time. Her partner, Jim, has spent the weekend with his mother up in Vermont and the neighbors arrived with a bunch of kids, who ran across the yard to sit on Jim‘s mother's lap. The neighbors then followed up on Sunday with a big barbeque. Jim is now having to self-quarantine for a week up there, which is probably good for his relationship with Patty. She wants to see Devon, of course, but his roommate, who's car he would have to borrow, is doing on-line hook-up dates, bringing the girls to the apartment. What a dope.

 

Now I have to figure out what to do about Geoff and Kim’s visiting, but they seem to be low-risk, even with all the young people in their house.  Everyone seems to be careful. And they would be staying in the little house.

 

Jim Dolan called and I asked him how he was doing after his brother's death, which was sudden and caused by a perforated bowel. I said, "It's tough that you can’t have a funeral." And then he told me that that 200 people showed up at the cemetery where is brother was buried, hugging each other. I get it. One of the worst consequences of this virus is to endure terrible losses without the comfort of physical contact. Dale Baker, our farmer neighbor who plants my seeds, is Jim's cousin and one of the pallbearers.  I have to pick up the new plants next week.  Ugh. He’s conservative and I'm certain he won’t be wearing a mask.

 

Rolled around in the tractor scoot this afternoon weeding out the back flower garden. It’s a long process. Very messy. But gratifying.

 

Spoke with Liz. We both admitted enjoying the quarantine and feeling guilty about it considering how difficult it is for so many people, particularly those in cities living alone. She’s getting out and taking hikes with real people. I asked how Ann was, who never responded to the text I sent out. Ah well. 

 

Willie and Michael laid out the black plastic for my vegetable garden but left out a row so they have to fix it tomorrow. Felt badly for them. Three hours in the sun, although at least they were working late in the day.

 

Skirt steak tacos for dinner, then Name of the Rose and Larry Sanders.

 

Tuesday May 26

The bad news today from my radiology appointment was Dr. Savage warning me not to take so much Tylenol and Advil. He limited me back to my usual two Advil in the morning and two at night, which doesn’t help the gardening. Very hot today so didn’t get out to weed and spent most of the day not doing very much. I finished thank you notes for the Salvation Army donations.  

 

 Wrote this while sitting on the deck. Michael is at the planning meeting and William is off on a rosary walk, so it’s the rare event of being the only person in the house. I have a glass of wine and a book and the birds are in full throttle. Very nice evening,

 

I finished Dorothy Day's autobiography and it occurred to me that an autobiography is a distorted version of a Self.  You can't see yourself as others do.  Even physically, a mirror image is in reverse. And how difficult to concoct some order from the random patterns of a mind over time, Even a great mind like Dorothy's.  So I need to follow her autobiography with the recent well-regarded biography by John Loughery.

 

Although I didn’t have a religious experience last night I did have the release of a certain burden of always trying to be good, which was a delusion. I don't want to bad, just free of the struggle of constantly defining good and failing at it. 

 

Willie has joined the American Solidarity Party (a terrible name with a ridiculous acronym).  It's Catholic oriented, advocating distributism as its economic base.

We watched a Zoom discussion between John Madei, the major distributism theoretician, and the ASP Veep. Madei was charming smart and able to clarify difficult economic concepts. The other guy inexplicably decided to set himself against a white screen. He was bald, overweight, with an eggplant shaped head and five o’clock shadow, all in super definition. It was interesting, but he became unwatchable 

 

Made a Bolognese sauce, which was great.

 

Wednesday May 27

 

Obsessing during the night in not being able to take the Advil Tylenol double dose. I understand why I shouldn't (GI bleeding), but it was so great to have that nearly pain free weekend. 

 

Called into the CCDC officers call, so I could comment on my concerns with the Recovery Kitchen. Keith told me to call Pam Klein.

 

Another Radiation day. I lie on the slab, still as a corpse. Neil Young, Clarence Clearwater, and the nostalgia ridden music of my youth croon to me while the steel wheels rotate around shooting rays into the tumors near my liver and esophagus. The music makes me feel romantic. 

 

Talked to Pam about my reluctance to boost the GoFundMe goal for the RK while $40k lay in the bank with only$3k worth of bills. This money should keep the kitchen going for another five months, well past the date when restaurants should be reopening and the two chefs would be back at work. Raising unneeded money for RK could also threaten donations for other food groups, my beloved Army. Pam told me that the Hudson restaurants would probably open only on the weekends so the chefs would be able to cook at the RK during the week. She assured me that if the RK did close, any left over cash would be distributed to other pantries and kitchens. Meanwhile the sanctuary movement is dropping out—wants to deliver groceries not dinner—which will reduce the number of RK weekly dinners by about 15O.  They are trying to work out a plan for making the RK permanent. I urged her to talk to Darcy and Jill Wishon. 

 

Read a new Scott Turow novel most of the afternoon. Did a little weeding late in the day (which was hot!) and was glad that my reduced pain meds didn’t interfere.  Then Michael and I sat on the deck with wine until it was hot dog grilling time. Made a weird cabbage onion pickle thing to put on my dog (only I could love it). Watched Name of the Rose.

 

Thursday May 28

 Went to Radiation, where the appointments were backed up because a patient had moved during his procedure and they had to start his treatment from scratch. My nose always itches as soon as they slide me under scanner, so I sympathize.

 

Spent much of the morning working on the Recovery Kitchen. Pam mentioned that we may not be delivering meals to the Sanctuary list, which comprises the local immigrant population.  They want to delivery groceries and not cooked dinners.  Also the person in charge of their scheduling has gotten confused coordinating his drivers with Pam's. 

 

I had a nice talk with Carole Clark, telling her how amazing I thought the work she and Pam had been doing. I suspected she felt I was being oppositional (which I sort of was) because I didn’t want to raise the goal on the GoFundMe campaign without a plan for continuing the Kitchen. She said they are putting one together and that if it doesn't work, they would distribute left over funds to other organizations, like the Army. I was surprised to learn from her that some of the food pantries in the County actually are experiencing reduced demand, and it’s not quite clear why. There are a number of possibilities, including the reluctance to go out in public, the government subsidies, or the Recovery Kitchen dinners.  Not all pantries are experiencing this, however.  The Salvation Army lunches and pantry visitors have gone up. 

 

Carole has been coopted into joining a new committee on county hunger.  Not sure what's its goal is, but Darcy should be on it since the Army is major provider of food. I got hold of Darcy and suggested that I could represent the Army if she didn't have time for it, and, since Darcy is doing actual work with food, she enthusiastically took up my offer. Also suggested that Carole connect with Jill Wishon, who has deep knowledge of the county systems for dealing with hunger.   

 

Got pizza for dinner and I threw most of mine up after extreme heartburn.  First vomiting side effects, but there was little nausea and symptoms all went away after I barfed. 

 

Attended the zoom CCDC meeting for a while but Carrie was covering it a co-secretary, so I packed it in to watch Name of the Rose

 

Friday May 29

Another beautiful day but we need rain.

 

Radiation was uneventful. When we got home, Michael and I walked to the pond where he poured the blue dye, which seems to be pretty good at holding back the vegetation out in the middle.   There was too much wind to spread the algae killer, however.

 

It's evening now and we're sitting on the deck baked in soporific light and warmth and the very subtle fragrance of early flowers. So nice.  Didn’t drink any wine, which is giving me heartburn during this current radiated period and probably precipitated the vomiting last night. Michael and I stayed out on the deck till cooking time. It being Catholic Friday I’ve planned a ricotta lemon pasta. I hadn’t noticed the claim on the penne box of ”secret vegetables” or its expiration date. As soon as it hit the boiling water tiny black spots flowered up to the surface. Don’t know if they are the secret vegetables, bugs, or mouse turds. Michael investigated the box, which was riveted with tiny holes. He took the pasta pot and dumped it into the woods.  I then found real spaghetti without the mysterious plant or animal life.  The ricotta sauce was disappointing, however, grainy and not very pleasant.  None of us liked it and there was of course the memory of the black spots. 

 

May 16-22. Radiation, Zooming with Jill, Willie's Birthday

May 16-22.  Radiation, Zooming with Jill, Willie's Birthday

 

Saturday May 16

In the middle of the night I heard Stevie clawing at the screen behind our bed. We pulled her down and saw a tiny frog silhouetted and splayed out against the window. We were hoping he was there in the morning but he was gone. Major cat action later on against a mouse that managed to escape into a hole. Mouse 1 Cats 0. First mouse triumph, without a rescue by Michael, when they are wounded, shocked, and probably done survive the outdoors, where he deposits them  Hard to know the kindest course.

 

Spent the morning dawdling at the computer.  Heated up last night's tuna casserole for lunch and went to the dump with Michael.  

 

When we came back I decided to try and hunt morels under apple trees on the path up to the meditation rock.  I was pleased that Gavriel, the former barn tenant and Harris’ great nephew, who foraged and gobbled up all the morels, had moved away with his beautiful Lily.  Then Michael idly mentioned that Gavy had been over three days ago scarfing up the mushrooms. I can't understand indifference to morel thievery.  In any case, I hoped there might be some left or that he only foraged on Dave’s land. We set off and detoured off the path into the brush toward the apple trees where I had found morels a couple years ago. Michael was  behind me pruning multiflora and raspberry bushes that had scratched across our bodies. Being out front, I couldn’t get very far, lurching through the thicket ahead of me, so I gave up.  Gavy probably got all the morels anyway. 

 

On the positive side, we did climb the hill up to my meditation rock, where I haven’t been for two years.  The meadow to the left of the path is now an ocean of honeysuckle, and to the right, the pine trees are nuzzling themselves into a forest. I regret the exuberant vegetation attack on both sides, which is eliminating the old meadow, although the piney smell was a comforting reminder of my childhood walks through the forests near our house.  

 

Michael and I had wine on the upper deck, first in the season and watched a swallow dart around the triad of scruffy trees near the front of the house.

 

Michael grilled burgers and later we watched the first episode of Wally Lamb’s lugubrious story about twins, Mark Ruffalo playing both, gaining 100 pounds for the schizophrenic brother. Too slow and gloomy. Maybe we’ll go back to The Heist, although season 2 ended satisfactorily for all the characters and I’m reluctant to see the inevitable shark jumping that will surely occur with three more seasons.

 

 

Sunday May 17

.  

Obsessing on two nodules in the front of my mouth.  Sat in the tub for two and a half hours this morning, mostly sleeping.

Spent nearly all day reading Vile and Splendor, a terrific book about Britain in 1940, the year of the Blitz. It’s a very good distraction and reminder of the courage and good humor the English expressed throughout that terrible year. At the end, they lost nearly 29,000 people, 5,600 of them children.  Now in three months New York alone has lost over 22,000 people to the virus, with thousands more deaths to come. But the dead now tend to be old and to die hidden away, unexposed, with no buildings collapsing around them and no family around them. People are now desperate to get out, rushing to the beaches and bars where these microscopic detonators will be gently drifting down, burying themselves into the bloodstreams like silent mines.  We are each other's blitz.

 

In the afternoon I dug out a few weeds in the vegetable garden while Willie and Michael prepared the soil. Hope I’m able to plant.

 

Roasted a chicken for dinner and afterward enjoyed the new season of The Good Fight, a satisfyingly left wing TV series. 

 

Monday May 18

Willie off to confession this morning. Hasn’t been for three months and was having a hard time coming to with things to confess to other than not having a clean room and being resentful about his weekly Dante meeting with the unhappy Bulgarian professor.

 

First day of radiation. Non-event so far and hope it stays that way. Duncan Savage, my radiotherapist, said side effects shouldn’t be too awful.  

 

Made stuffed cabbage. Not bad but stuffed cabbage is never as great as I envision it to be. 

 

Saw an absurd World War II propaganda movie made in 1943, in which a small English village is infiltrated by Nazis pretending to be British, and no one suspects until they start killing random children and women.  The villagers get together and defeat them of course.  It has a terrible title that I keep forgetting: "Went the Day Well." 

 

Tuesday May 19

Beautiful day but arthritis is tough. Michael and I got up early and went grocery shopping at eight.  Good time to go. Senior hour ends at eight and my duffer peers are gone and the youngsters haven’t gotten there yet.

 

Day 2 Radiation in the afternoon.

 

Later I had an exchange with Carole Clark and other Recovery Kitchen people. Carole wants me to set a new goal for the GoFundMe campaigns. They have $50,000 in the bank already and bills of only about 3k. I emailed them:

“I’m reluctant to launch a new goal for the GFM campaign right now. It looks like you have enough money for at least five months of dinners.  Assuming you develop a plan for sustaining the kitchen then I’d suggest setting a new goal in a month or so  and at that time promoting the more permanent venture. Like “Hey, the Recovery Kitchen Is Here for the Duration”. 

 

In the meantime I  would still promote CCRK with new articles, press releases, FB posts and sharing, email blasts , etc. but maybe the emphasis for the next  month or so  should  be on keeping the story fresh and making sure there’s a solid band of volunteers.”

 

Didn’t get a reply, I have no official role here. If Carole insists on going after more money now I’ll just quit.

 

Best part of the day was Zooming with Jill! First time I’ve seen face her in nearly four years. She looked beautiful and we talked for almost two hours about her book and research, politics, her town house community. Gave each other Zoom tours of our houses. Saw beautiful Livy and Al.  So happy. 

 

Wednesday May 20

Ravaged by arthritis and back pain throughout the night. 

Morning spent reading and then listening to Cuomo's daily press briefing, which I'm now dependent on for covid sanity. 

 

Out to Albany and back for radiation. 

 

Michael and I went to the pond and tried to use a good plant app to identify the algae, blistering on the surface like psoriasis patches. Seems to be a species called stringy algae. Hope it’s not the horrible blue green bacteria look-alike. 

 

I was knocked out all afternoon with burning lower back pain. Lay on the floor upstairs and experienced how crooked I am. Helped a little and would like to lie like this regularly, but its very hard to get back up, a reason to do this regularly. Finally took Advil and pain gone. 

 

My dotty cousin Gretchen called around five. Her mind is much worse than the last time I talked to her. Couldn’t figure out where I lived when I told her two hours north of New York (“I don’t understand.  Do you go with a friend?”) or an hour south of Albany (“I don’t know Albany. What is that?”). She speaks very quickly, as if she realizes that if she slows down all those missing words will turn into the black cavers of Alzheimer’s. God I hate that disease more than cancer.

 

Ordered in from Wunderbar, but I didn’t have much appetite. Watched episode 1 of a new version of Umberto Ecco's Name of the Rose. Stars John Turturo. Might be good. Sleep was broken but ok.

 

Thursday May 21 Willie’s Birthday

Thirty-seven years ago my son’s rock ‘n’ roll life began in intensive care, with the nurses calling him Wild Willy at three days. He’s had an extraordinary and often difficult adventure so far. I hope the Church brings him the security and comfort he needs to recover from his childhood and strange medical condition. I will be so grateful if it does. One of his students sent him a happy birthday email and said he was the best teacher she ever had. I can hear him teach his virtual classes now, and he's engaging, funny, intense. I wish I had had him as a teacher. Although when I told him this he said I was biased.  Yes, but I'm honestly biased. 

 

It is a beautiful day. My radiation was a nonevent. I feel much better physically than I did yesterday. That’s a relief. Took a walk to the pond. The algae are pushed back against the shore, and the water is clear enough to see the bottom.

 

Talked to Patty this afternoon. She is having a stressful quarantine with her partner Jim and daughter Dominique, who has brought along her boyfriend to quarantine with her, apparently the least stressful, Jim and Nicky had a very difficult time when he first moved in with them. It subsided overtime but the quarantine is resurrecting the old conflicts in new forms (who’s cooking when, who gets the living room, whose cups are left in the sink?) and Patty is stuck as the referee, although she always makes it clear that she'll side with her daughter.  She's fond of Jim, but he'll never be Abe. She called for my advice on whether Devon and his girlfriend should come up this weekend from Brooklyn. She's ok but a third roommate doesn't have strict safety habits and they’d be using his car. Probably not a good idea. I have a similar issue with Geoff and Kim who would like to come up and use the little house, but in spite of their full house, they are a less risky proposition than Devon’s I think. This evil virus forces us fear our kids. Horrible. 

 

Made baked beans, pulled pork, and salad per Willie’s request. And the bananas foster cheesecake that I had ordered online was as much a success as I hoped, but the meal itself was a sugar orgy, especially the baked beans, way too sweet even for Willie and Michael. 

 

Willie had a  Zoom call with his father and I got a chance to say hello. Richard looks increasingly like an old British MP.  

 

Watched two Larry Sanders.

 

Friday May 22

 

Had back pain all night that kept me awake. Was in and out of the bathtub.  Googled cancer bone pain and was not comforted by the information that it is worse at night.  At five in the morning I woke up and looked out the window, the light was golden and in the back yard was a doe and her tiny fawn, hopping about and chasing a rabbit back into the brush, completely adorable. I tried to video them but the window screen turned it into a moiré.  Almost compensated for the lousy night.

 

Went to radiation and told Patty, my favorite nurse, about the back pain.  She set me up to talk to Dr. Savage after the treatment. He checked the last PET scan and didn’t see anything scary. He pointed out my meandering spinal column. “You have severe scoliosis, which might be causing the problem.” Take two Advil and two Tylenol. Ok. Nothing scary.

 

Home to making a vegetarian curry for Catholic Friday. Lentils, cauliflower, tomatoes, potatoes. Turned out OK.

 

Had a Zoom cocktail party with Neville and Harris, who showed us the latest update of his portrait with Zoe. He’s painting two sides of a translucent sheet so the vivid circus colors on one fade through to the other as pastels. Spectacular. Neville pulled out some of the pottery she’s been baking. Gorgeous Asian simplicity. Fun to see and talk to them.  

They have to leave their wonderful apartment that overlooks Rondout Creek in Kingston,  They can't afford the rent and they need a place that has enough studio space for both of them. I’m afraid everyone in New York City with money is going to want to head to the hills after this viral blitz, and that rising upstate rentals will price them out of housing in any pleasant area. 

 

 We watched next episode of Name of The Rose. Was totally wiped. Took the two Advil’s and two Tylenol. 

May 9-15 Tractor Scoot Arrives and Dorothy Day Guilt

 Saturday May 9

 Polar vortex descended and although the day is sunny it's cold outside. Continue to juggle reading about World War II and Dorothy Day, a contradictory mix of feelings. The Larsen book spikes archaic patriotism and Dorothy Day's poverty and religion urges a search for some spiritual context, but the most I feel is the occasional vague Space-joy. 

 

Feeling very lazy, and walking up and down the driveway is brutal in this weather.  At least the cold weather seems to have knocked the algae off the pond, which has covered it with creepy patches out of Science Fiction.  

 

Worked on diary.

 

Made Asian turkey meatballs in a coconut milk chicken stock broth. Was pretty good. 

 

Watched Funny Period with Seth Rogen and Adam Sandler and it wasn't. The premise was promising: comedy star gets terminal disease. Comedy and tragedy, the great duality. Only the few jokes targeted dicks and the potential tragedy was cut short with a miracle cure, so the plot drifted aimlessly into a boring rom-com/bromance. Willie pointed out only the Cohen brothers could have pulled off a film with this basic premise.

 

Sunday May 10

 

Sat in the tub reading more Dorothy Day, identifying with her internal struggles as a young woman, but certainly not with her later trajectory into faith and service. Willie told me that the sin of sloth referred to spiritual sloth, not physical laziness, so undoubtedly this is one of my major ones.  

 

I was reminded in a very nice unexpected way that it is Mother’s Day when Willie presented me with French toast and Greek yogurt/fruit displayed under a glass dome that Geoff and Kim had given me for my birthday. This is the first time in my life I have been served breakfast on Mother’s Day (or actually any other day). Having observed this as a Holy Day in Geoff and Kim's home, I now regret telling my kids that it was invented as a commercial enterprise to increase consumer sales of breakfast food and Hallmark cards.  They called and reported that their boys baked baguettes and made corn beef hash and eggs for Kim, while Ayesha, Gabriel's live-in girl friend now thoroughly inculcated into the Atkin-D'Angelo cult, baked poppy seed cakes. It was all served with mimosas. Still, it was a thrill to get Willie's French toast and yogurt. Jeremy and Sarah called, and I was happy to get an email from Jill later in the day. 

 

I just  Googled Mother's Day, and although most people are familiar with its origin in the US as the result of intense lobbying by Anna Jarvis in the early 1900s, it was also an early Christian festival, called Mothering Sunday, which was celebrated on the fourth Sunday in Lent.  (Jarvis by the way intended the holiday to help offset the celebrations of male achievement—I didn't know that.  She later was disgusted by the commercialization and fought to get it off the calendar.) 

 

Poor Michael worked on the tractor all day, cleaning out mouse nests and piss smells from the air conditioning.  He had already given it a post winter clearing but today had to remove the roof to get rid of another nest, and a mouse ran out.  He has now stopped rescuing them and has become a mouse executioner, setting traps and killing a mouse a day.  Sad.  But he's no longer sentimental about the wee mousies. 

 

Cloudy day with very little weather virtue. Worked on the diary. 

 

Baked sweet potato coins, cooked green beans, and seared steak for dinner.

 

Celebrated Mom's Day by making Michael and Willie watch the Way We Were, the fourth time for me.  I'm not clear why I view this as the most romantically sad film ever made. Unlike most movies about  irreconcilable love affairs, this one is about the clash of ideas and cultural behaviors. In fact, I've never seen another one like it.  It always leaves me devastated, although it doesn't reflect the endings of my own marriages and love affairs.  Maybe, like Dorothy Day's life, I wish mine had had more of Barbara Streisand's idealism.  Maybe that's why it makes me sad. 

 

Monday May 11

Called Ken Jacobs, my hairdresser, to be sure he is OK. He seems to be holding up with government subsidies and Social Security. But my hair is so awful I told him I look like Sasquatch. Missed him. 

 

Spent some time working with the Recovery Kitchen material. I’m not sure what I want to do with this.  Need to focus ideas on food and poverty in this county. I texted Darcy to see how the Sally Army is doing. She responded that demand is up, food donations are down, and they need more money. I’m worried that the Recovery Kitchen may be cutting into the Army’s funding.  

 

I feel like my eyes are getting worse. I’m having a hard time focusing on the screens.

 

Made chicken breast roulades with ricotta cheeses and gochujang BBQ sauce, which Willie had ordered on line along with several other versions of BBQ. Amazon also delivered about a dozen bags of corn chips.  Everything will get eaten. 

 

Too tired to watch anything.

 

Tuesday May 12

 

Sat in the tub reading Dorothy Day, unhappy and guilt ridden by my life-long sloth, and by the success of my GoFundMe campaign in raising $18,000 for the Recovery Kitchen. It also has grants of about $20,000. The Recovery Kitchen is a pop-up, it isn’t designed to last beyond the epidemic, but it has two local professional chefs, the involvement of the Sanctuary Movement, and a great distribution system so it has a glamour that old Sally Army doesn’t and is drawing lots of positive attention. This is good, of course, but I'm worried about the Army. Darcy asked me to write thank you notes for its donations, which haven’t reach $5,000.  

 

I plan on asking Carole and Pam today how they envision the RK’s future, since, once the lock-down is over, Jamie and John will go back to their restaurants and the church will want its kitchen back.  I’m going to suggest that they work with Darcy to transition their resources, volunteers and distribution system over to the Army, so it can continue the work, either under Darcy’s direction or Pam’s.  The Recovery Kitchen has no legal structure behind it.  It’s not a non-profit organization, just a collection of people and existing organizations supporting it with different tasks.  It would be a shame for all of this to go away, but it can’t continue without an on-going structure of its own.     

 

Just had telemedicine appointment with Dr. Saltz my Sloan Kettering oncologist, who was home with his wife and cute dog,  who sat on his lap during part of the meeting. He’s a major fan of telemedicine and says it’s going to change medicine. He can even do physical exams remotely, although can’t “listen”.  Since it allows us to stay away from the City, we are also fans. Dr. Saltz also was much less stiff and nerdy than in the city, almost jolly.  He supports the treatment I’m getting from St. Peter’s (whack a mole radiation with immunotherapy), which he says  will delay chemotherapy, so I’m good through the summer. Every day I'm not on chemo with its inevitable death sentence is a good day.

 

Our current ubiquitous wildflower in the front and back yards is the nonnative yellow rocket cress (barbera vulgaris), part of the mustard family. I was going to let Michael mow it down and then discovered that it is a mortal enemy of my dreaded cabbage moths, who ravaged all my garden crucifers last year. The wicked cress is not only pretty but it lures the cabbage moths in with delicious nectar. They then lay their eggs and when the baby larva  emerge the saponin chemicals in the plant kill the little tykes. Tragic and Cromwellian, but I’m telling Michael not to mow the flowers down. You can also eat it but I won't. [Update in August: We seemed to have far fewer cabbage moths this season and the cruciferous vegetables have been thriving, although so have all the other vegetables.] 

 

Dinner from Relish. Chicken cacciatore. Like great home cooking. 

Watched more of The Heist. 

 

Wednesday May 13

 

Had appointment in Albany with Dr. Luyun, talked about his time in working at the medical center in Champagne-Urbana, Illinois, which he brings up during nearly every visit after I told him I lived there when Michael One was stationed at Chanute Air Force Base. I said today, “You must have been fond of Champagne.” He looked puzzled, “It was ok. My wife hated it.” I said I did too but actually that was a lie.  We had a great time there.  We lived in Champagne itself, although Michael worked Chanute was in Rantoul a few miles outside of town.  I had a brief job in a day care center. we helped start a theater group where I directed two one-acts, we made great friends and helped organize Chanute's anniversary event. Our contribution to the war, which I was opposed to, was still a hypothetical. 

 

On the way home from Albany I had a weird brain fart. We planned to stop at Cascade in Hudson to pick up lunch. When we were halfway there, I suddenly turned to Michael and asked if the waitresses had worn masks. He responded that maybe they would be wearing them now. “Well, did they or didn’t they?" I was annoyed, and he looked puzzled. I suddenly realized that I had imagined we had picked up the food and were on the way home, although in reality we hadn’t reached Hudson. It was as if I had been dreaming, although it didn't seem like I had fallen asleep. I hope it's not senility creeping up. 

 

Home to find that the tractor scoot has been delivered, which I hope allows me to sit and weed. Michael put it together, and it worked pretty well, but my flower garden is the Augean stable. So many tough gray weeds. 

 

Have an abscess in my gum and no dentist. Jennifer, Dr. Luyun's assistant is going to try and get my an appointment at St. Peter’s on Friday, when I come in for my infusion.  This would mean that Michael would have to sit in the car for hours. 

 

Talked to Faye this afternoon. I had ordered two big tubs of sun butter, which was worried would be excessive, but the was happy about getting them. Good!

 

Making sous vide pork chops and acorn squash stuffed with pears and onions and flavored with the gochujang BBQ, which I'm very fond of.

 

Watched a Mr. Show reunion with David Cross and Bob Oedenkirk, ridiculous infantile humor and really funny.

 

Too tired to watch anything else.

 

Thursday May 14

 

Discovered two nodules  on the floor of my mouth. I have a constant edge of paranoia about anything weird that pops up in my body. I lay in bed in a panic understanding that progression in inevitable, but I'm hoping it's not oral.   After obsessing I spent most of the morning reading Vile and Splendor, cheering Churchill on, and comparing the response of the Brits to the Blitz and ours to the Coronavirus, which is not as dramatic and harder to be brave about.

 

Beautiful day.  Worked in the afternoon on my new tractor scoot, weeding out the area beside the front door while Michael seeded wild flowers across the front of the house. I have a great phone app that is brilliant at recognizing plants, even in early stages, so I was pretty confident that I was yanking out the nasties and leaving in the real flowers. I can’t accomplish much but I was able to get rid of some junky plants, so it did look better.

 

We picked up food at Wunderbar. They have the Beyond Beef burger now on the regular menu. 

 

Watched first half of Brando’s mutiny on the bounty. Pretty good but terrible music.

 

I was avoiding Carole Clark all day, who wants to update the GoFundMe campaign with a higher goal, since it's almost reached the current one of $20,000. In the middle of the night, giving up on my insomnia, I wrote her, asking what her expenses were now and how long her current revenues would last (she has $40k already).  I reminded her that her chefs might be going back to work, maybe within a month if declining cases hold up, and asked her if she had a transition plan. I worry uselessly about my Army, with its dwindling food donations and increases in lunches and pantries. 

 

Friday May 15

Went to my radiation run through and my infusion at St. Peters. One of the nurses in the chemo room walked me down to my cube where I would get hooked up. She had been pregnant, and I asked how she was doing. She said, "Not so good. I lost my baby. 17 weeks." Not much one can say at such sad news. During the infusion, another nurse said that they are all gaining weight from the food everybody brings in during the corona. I asked what one could do for them to show appreciation. She said, just thank us. The Democrats organized a car parade yesterday that drove around the hospital in Hudson, hanging out posters and waving. At least they weren't honking.  Why do I cringe over this event? Maybe because Brenda Gevertz planned, my fellow committee person who attacked the Salvation Army for being anti-Semitic and homophobic.  She certainly has good intentions, but the rigid righteousness on the left is getting tiresome. Still, she found one way of thanking the great people who are serving the sick. 

 

 At home I worked in the garden with my electric lawnmower, my other favorite garden tool, a great little fist of a machine, light and doughty, bravely battling the high weeds.  

 

Carole Clark answered my email about the money they’re spending. They have enough to keep going for a few months, but there's no plan for sustaining it or transitioning the resources. We’ll see. 

 

It’s Livy‘s birthday today. I sent her $300 as combination graduation and birthday gift.

 

 Continued reading Dorothy Days autobiography, with the sense that my life has not even been a pale version of hers.  The best thing I can say about my work is that I've hoped to do no harm.  

 

I had ordered about 30 premade meals for the Army. The post office tracker said the box came in this morning, but Darcy hasn't received it. Someone must’ve taken it. 

 

Lee sent me a book of Eleanor Roosevelt essays. I talked to her and Tom, who are hiking through the quarantine with masked friends and zooming cocktail parties. Astounding couple.  

 

I made tuna casserole for dinner. We watched the second half of Mutiny on the Bounty. 

 

May 2-8. Radiation Map, More Recovery Work

Saturday May 2

Sent the Recovery Kitchen press release off to several papers in the region and posted on Facebook. Very pleased with it. 

 

I wish I had my radiation scheduled. When the treatments are delayed I feel like the cancer will run amuck. I still believe that the long delay between the diagnosis and the treatments in the beginning enabled the cancer to leek out of the lymph nodes.  Even if the current therapies are only palliative, scans between them still give me a three-month calm.  

  

Poked around in the herb and flower garden with my Fiscar, but I didn’t last very long.  So little stamina.

 

Updated my Hudson restaurant list. The good news of the day: Wunderbar has an online takeout menu! Yay.

 

We had a zoom wine hour with Harris and Neville. So happy to see them. Harris is working on a metallic portrait of himself and Zoe, which vibrates in Color and evokes the luminous illustration plates in the books of my childhood. So good. 

 

Harris and Neville described a zoom birthday party that sounded like a Nightmare. The guy who gave it was turning 50. He told the invitees to wear costumes, and he would act as DJ and play disco music while everybody dance around in front of their computers. Harris and Neville didn’t attend, which I’m sort of sorry about. I’ll bet it was terrible and really funny.

 

Seared skirt steak and chopped cilantro, tomatoes, onions, with the very hot green chili I made yesterday for tacos. Simple and good. Watched the Heist.

 

Willie seems down although he says he isn’t.

 

Sunday May 3

Stevie caught a mouse last night and carefully brought it into the bedroom, still alive, and wedged it in the corner of her blanket bed, where Michael found and rescued it. Stevie has been checking the corner wistfully for her toy. Very sad.

 

Beautiful day. Very warm near 70. After lunch I went out to the vegetable garden and used my Fiscar to pull out the rest of the random weeds. Now I’m sitting on the deck with my Eric Larson book looking out at the upcoming meadow.

Michael and I walked down to the trackers and then to the pond where the frogs were in full choral. I left my cane behind, which made me wobbly but ok. Back on the deck Michael brought out wine, and we took pictures of each other in the evening light. Michael looked luminous and soulful. Even when he sleeps he looks like a medieval knight who died at home, lacking only the dog at his feet. I looked like a Franz Hals burgher--red Dutch nose and big belly--about to go on a bender.  

 

I made an ersatz beef stroganoff and we watched The Heists. Willie frustrated and irritated by his weekly call with sad Romanian Professor, where they discuss Dante. Willie says she conducts a lecture based on a close reading of the text, which is impressive but doesn't allow much discussion.  And she seems needy and miserable at the same time. 

 

Monday May 4

Up trying to avoid cramps.  Lazy day. Read the Larsen book in the morning. Willie and I finished up our game in the afternoon.

 

Michael dyed our pond blue, which I hope will keep the plants from trapping my feet. 

Marinated and sheet-roasted drumsticks, potatoes and Brussels sprouts. 

 

Watched more Heist.

 

Tuesday May 5

 

Went to St. Peters for my liver and esophagus mapping for radiation treatments in a couple of weeks. It is now so familiar as to be nearly routine. Sharon, of mu favorite nurses gave me the pretreatment interview and commented, “This is like your second home. Although not a great second home.” She has a daughter who taught special Ed in New York and had her heart broken by a surgeon.  I asked if she was looking for another boyfriend.  

 

No visitors allowed now, so Michael isn't allowed in the hospital and has to wait in the car. I put him on Face time and held up my phone so, while Duncan Savage explained where I would be zapped this time.

 

Before the mapping process, I lie supine on a slab under the scanner and the radio technicians draw little red circles in a line from my thorax down to my pelvis, which they then tattoo to show where the radiation will line up, It's like being prepared by futuristic Aztecs for a bad ceremony. 

 

Set up a Facebook page for Recovery Kitchen. Am feeling guilty about the money they're making from the GoFundMe page ($13,000 so far), while the Army isn’t getting any attention.  Recovery is the new shiny soup kitchen with the high-end professional chefs and the local multi-organization support, including Sanctuary.  The Army soup kitchen is the old lady, reliable and sturdy, but drab. 

 

 Willie is in the process of writing a letter to Samantha, the point being that the intense hurt he felt was from her accusation that he would make a bad husband. It’s a good letter.  I think he should send it.   

 

Walked down to the pond n the afternoon and checked out the blue dye, which was definitely visible, but matted thick vegetation is lolling around on the surface, which I hope isn’t curly pondweed. 

 

Picked up dinner from Relish. Steak chimichurri. Really good.

 

Sarah called us on Face Time. She has just gotten back from grocery shopping and has left her carton of eggs outside the front door on the sidewalk because she didn’t know how to decontaminate them. She's taking a month's leave and seemed relaxed and unstressed. Looked pretty.

 

Wednesday May 6

Because of the double death threat hanging over me, the daily routines become very pleasurable: the food, the books, the streaming, how the weather will effect my hobbling, the miniscule contributions I make to the Democratic Committee, the Recovery Kitchen, and even writing and editing the diary—tiny creations that keep me sane. 

 

Went for a walk down to the road and ran into Jane.  We did cancer bonding with gallows humor, until Dave drove up in the truck. Janet was interested in the game Willie and I play, so I’ll send her a link.  It's easy between us as long as we actually don't socialize.

 

Had an idea for writing another piece on the Recovery Kitchen. Asked Pam, who manages the volunteer drivers, for any anecdotes or demographic information on the people who are getting the food.  Thought it would promote the Kitchen and show how extensive poverty is in our county.  Coincidentally, a Times article came out today reporting how severe childhood hunger is now.  

 

Spent the afternoon working on the diary. I write each entry in Notes, copy seven at a time over into Word as a weekly set, edit each set, and then post it on my private blog, which no one can access. My original intention in doing this diary was to focus on the presence, but I think all it does is satisfy my editing and writing urge

  

Made pasta with chicken sausage, broccoli, lemon zest, preserved lemon, lemon juice, and stock. Really good. Watched The Heist. 

 

Thursday May 7

Spent an hour and a half in the bathtub this morning, most of it reading Dorothy Day's autobiography, which I love. The morning routine involves my bath, then taking 2 Advils, magnesium, PreserVision, and my statin. I put my sunblock on and Diana licks part of my cheek. That is also part of the ritual. She’s a peculiar cat, built like a concrete block, hyperactive with crazy eyes. She’s over five years old and still kneads. Her insecurity probably comes from bad mothering and Stevie, her mean sleek sister, who is the cat equivalent to Nefertiti, and bullies Diana relentlessly. 

 

Dorothy Day's early years and her random childish faith resonate with me, although hers actually deepened and evolved.  I wonder if you can really do good without belief in an absolute.  I know I've always failed.

 

The increase in demand for food at the both the Recovery and the Army Kitchens has brought focused to the hidden poverty in this county. So I’m digging out statistics that I can use in around an article. USDA report for Colombia County had a poverty rate between 2014-18 of 15.1% and child poverty rate of 21%— higher than Greene (13.3 and 14). Walked down to the road and talked to Farrell and Beverly who have rented our old apartment in the barn and were out on the deck. So glad that they are as happy there as we were, forgiving it’s drafty windows for the sake of the golden light that shines down the hallway when you wake up.   

 

Picked up food at Ca Me and watched Heist.

 

Friday May 8

 

Bathtub time this morning involved long reading of Dorothy Day.  She lived the life I fantasized but was too lazy and not brave or faithful enough to take on.  Have been thinking a lot about poverty and collected more data today on it.   It's nearly impossible to write about poverty in a non-patronizing way when I've never been poor without a family safety net.  

 

Spent a lot of time making vegetarian chili. Lots of pots and pans. Sent Al a gift card to igourmet for his birthday. It's been a couple of years since I sent him a present.  

 

Everyone is sleepy. Willie is sleepy but he might be depressed after writing his letter to Samantha, which he hasn’t sent. 

 

Vegetarian chili was slimy. It used bulgur wheat to give it texture but cooked it too long. Watched more Heist. Found out it had four seasons. Can't imagine how the story can keep going that long.  Don't think I can make it.