WELCOME TO CRAZY TOWN, POPULATION: YOU

I think it is official. We all live in Crazy Town. I keep seeing more and more people without masks, crammed in tight places, in large groups, indoors. I hear people talk like it's all over, that the virus has been vanquished, that happy days are here again. And while I would love that to be so, I am fairly certain it is not the case. According to most papers, websites, news shows, and even some politicians (who always want things to be going great when they are in office) the numbers are going up of both infections, and deaths. Worldwide, it looks awful. Nationwide, also awful. Locally, I just found out yesterday a kid I teach has it. A kid. Like not even in high school yet kid. How scary is that? I am hoping she will recover, and based on her health, I think she will. But weren't young people supposed to be immune? Wasn't it only the elderly or immuno-compromised that we were sacrificing on the altar of the virsus? What happened? If only there was some large, worldwide organization of doctors and scientists who could help us understand what is happening, what we should do moving forward, and how we can be safe about re-opening. Or at least, if only we have national center of some type that dealt with diseases that could give us daily, or at bare minimum weekly updates and press conferences on the situation. Hell, I'd be happy with just a monthly one. If only.

I would love to not have to wear a mask. I would love to go to a movie theatre, sit in a sold out house, and watch some silly summer movie with lots of explosions, cheesy music, and bad puns. I'd really love to be able to do some theatre and have more than twenty-five percent audiences. I'd love to be able to teach my playwriting class at the DCPA. To fly out to California or Wisconsin or New York and give my peeps big hugs. I really would. But I can't and won't at the expense of someone else's health. To me, that seems wrong. Sadly, more and more, I feel like this is not the universal attitude. It's more than a feeling. It's a certainty. I see older folks, some who I know have recently had heart surgery, playing golf with no masks, riding in golf carts with their grand children who have been out partying the night before. I walk by the local park, and see tons of people out, in huge groups, sweating away, thinking that being outdoors is a cure all. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. What could be the worse case scenario? And why worry about that?

Well, I'll tell you. I think that worst thing would be a lot more people dead and dying. So many that any attempt to compare the number of people dead from the virus to the number of people dead from the flu would seem laughably stupid, an archaic joke from that simpler time known as March, 2020. That would suck. A lot. And on top of that, if the rates continue on their current trends, I imagine that soon we will have another shut down. One that makes the first seem like a picnic.

I get it. I love magical thinking. I do it all the time. When my mom was dying of cancer, I tried to will the cancer away every day. I'd try and make deals with the moon. I'd face the west, raise my hands to the sky, and try to cast a spell that would heal her. It is a natural thing to do. A human one. But one thing I never did was offer her a cigarette. Or tell her to eat more processed food. Or expose herself to hazardous material. Because I am fairly certain that would have made a terrible situation somehow more terrible.

And that is what I think some of us are doing. Gleefully. Full of smarm and condescension. And a semi-menacing glare at those of us still wearing masks. It's a confusing, scary time. A time of change and worry. And I don't want to get on a rant against my fellow human beings who see things differently. I just want a little more caution. A little more consideration of the facts. And of getting facts from more reliable sources than our own wishes that this be over.

And if wishes were horses, we'd all ride.

I've a feeling we are all in Crazy Town.

Here's a song. It's Boston, doing More than a Feeling.

STARDUST AND LOVE

Last night's dream was epic, like Day After Tomorrow or Independence Day epic. Lisa and I were both in NYC, were working for the DCPA which was also NYU, the virus was going on but in the dream it was a giant system of storms. The city was still full of folks, as in this reality social distancing was not part of how to deal with it. We were both supposed to go to this large end of the year meeting in one of the theatre buildings, in a medium sized theater space that could seat about 300. I got there, and the place was full, and on stage they were trotting out set pieces from the season they wanted to get rid of. Lisa wasn't there yet, but had texted me she was on her way. I noticed all the teachers were heading for the door. And then an alarm went off. We all got up and headed out. It wasn't mass panic, more like when we had to evacuate during 9/11- lots of people trying to get somewhere, some freaking out, some in disbelief, some just forging ahead. I got to a hall with a long glass wall, and looked out. right outside, and coming downwards, was a huge tornado. I could see up into it. People were being directed one way to a shelter, but I knew Lisa was several blocks north of there, and nowhere near the shelter. I had to get to her. I ran down the stairs, and out across Union Square. The streets were now empty. Someone yelled out to me to get to the shelter. I tried to yell out how I had to find Lisa, how nothing else mattered. But all I could do was cry, and the more I tried to tell this anonymous person how much I loved her and needed to get to her, the more I cried. Then I woke up.

Can't believe we are going to be doing this for another month. Seems like we've all been in our homes, figuring out how to spend time ourselves, for a long time. Some of it I do not mind. Introspection, reading, calling old friends I should have called but haven't in ages, cooking more, meditating, this blog. Those are all positives, to be sure. Not being able to hug friends, have a rehearsal with actors in the same room, go to a movie in a movie and/or play in a theatre, have other people into our home for a meal- these things I miss. But it does make me realize what I miss, what I find important, and what I don't find so important. I really love seeing nature sort of come back a bit, with cleaner skies, more birds in the neighborhood, and even more wildlife venturing out. I wonder if this reassessment of what matters will carry over after the Duration? I imagine it will. I think our economic system will have to change, as well as our medical system and how we care for each other. And our planet too. In a weird way, I think a lot of us feel like maybe the world is chastising us for being so damn stupid- polluting our air and water, denying folks basic health care even though a healthy population helps everyone, and so on. Magical thinking, I know- and there are some who are using this to say it's God punishing us for liking the gays. Those people are nuts. They remind me of the group of rabbits in Watership Down who let the farmer who takes care of them kill some of them from time to time because he also feeds them and let's them live a nice life (until he needs to eat them) and create this weird cult out of the way it works. In the story, which follows a group of displaced rabbits on an odyssey as they search for a new home,  Fiver,  a rabbit with some psychic powers, says of these rabbits who have made up a belief system that allows for percentage of them to be killed off that"they are in love with death". I feel like I see some of those death loving rabbits on Facebook more and more.

Last night, we had an old friend over for a social distanced meal, which meant she sat in a chair on our front lawn while we sat on the porch. Lisa, who expresses her love through her cooking, made a fantastic pasta dish and a lovely cake. We had to be extra careful with serving the food, used gloves, and only put the candle on a slice of cake so that our guest of honor could blow it out without blowing all over the whole cake. It was a grand time. A few neighbors walked by, and we would say hello. Lisa kept wanting to give them slices of cake, but they all politely, and probably wisely, declined. At 8 pm, a lot of people started howling out their windows. We joined in, not sure if this was in gratitude for all the people working in the hospitals and at stores and such, or just an expression of life, but it felt great. Having been a life-long howler who has heard the Chime at Midnight many a time, I never pass an opportunity to howl into the night. After dinner, I did the dishes while Lisa turning into Gene Gene the Dancing Machine for my entertainment. A magic, unique night.

We are all still alive. We are all full of magic. We are all made of stardust and love.

Here's a song.