Isolation Diary: How long have I been on my own? My last big grocery shopping was Monday, March 9. On Thursday, March 12, things began shutting down; my rehearsal was canceled. The idea of social distancing and staying at home gaining traction. March 14, my last tai chi class before the Y shut down. Also a quick trip to Pavilions to pick up a few things, noticed the absence of toilet paper and water. By Sunday, March 15, I was feeling lonely and Jessie and Duncan came to visit. Alone until Wednesday, March 18, when Adam, Maggie, and Fig came for a visit. I hadn’t seen them in awhile because Fig had a cold. I was impatient for a visit, too soon, I caught the cold. But not immediately; on Friday, March 20, I walked to Larchmont to pack up pre- ordered coffee beans from Peet’s. And then…I’ve just been here at home. So, my strict isolation is just shy of 2 weeks but my, let’s say, ‘restricted isolation’ has been about 19 days. And maybe 30 more to come. So naive! How not to feel useless?Why do I need to feel useful? Because…..one of our human characteristics, maybe our most important one, is our potential to be useful to other humans. I am reminded of a show that Joe Jordan wrote, “Holon”. A holon is is something that is simultaneously a whole and a part; something individual and an integral part of a larger whole. We are all that. So here in isolation, I am my active individual self but my connecting self is pining.
In other news: I battled the devouring vine again. Oh, come on, you might be thinking, it’s a vine, a plant, why do you go on so about this lower life form? Ha! You innocents. Vines grow while you sleep, this is well known. Also when you are not looking. Truly, if you constantly stare at a vine, it is paralyzed, dormant. Take your eye off it…whoosh! There goes your ping-pong table. Hey, how’d the table get covered in leaves? My marauding vine has climbed up several large plants, bushes, trees, whatever, and created a canopy. This vine has attaching tendrils. To pull each ‘branch’ down takes strength, and often I simply can’t pull it down and have to sever the vine and let the left over just die up at the top the tree and turn brown. And I’m up on a ladder and not feeling so secure.
Wishing you all good health!
Walt K.
Your diary must be three feet thick by now. Quick, find a publisher. You’ll make more than enough to buy a new ping pong table.