Greetings from the Quarantined Underground

Like a thousand other blog postings from a thousand other bloggers these past few days, couldn’t think of a better title for this one.

As you’ve no doubt come to experience, it’s a weird surreal sort of vibe we’re living. The weather’s been crappy these past four days, dreary overcast skies that occasionally drizzle wet cold tears. Four of us within these four close walls. The itching to get out and do something – anything. This past Sunday I drove around with Little One and saw every school playground and town park barred by red and white barriers supported by traffic cones: No Admittance.

The girls are still studiously involved with their virtual schooling and finish by early afternoon. They giggle and play together and do creative things. This is hardly a blip on their radar. They will look back on this as adults, perhaps, with a vaguely fond sense of nostalgia. Much as I, perhaps, have looked back upon the tumult of the late 70s – Three-Mile Island, the Iranian hostage crisis, the Son of Sam murders – in these electronic pages. Which I suppose is the best outcome for them. At this stage of my life, that is what I am living for.

For us, the wife and myself, anxiety has quickly – supernaturally speedily – set in. Like a condemned man awaiting execution and hopeful for a last-minute reprieve from the governor, we are awaiting the inevitable job layoff. It’s already happening in my wife’s company. She is a higher up, so the first round of layoffs have not affected her, but her salary is high enough to make her an attractive target. Me, I’m a nobody in a large organization who performs an essential regular function. But having been laid off three times in the span of six years just a little while back, I can read the tea leaves. They asked me, for example, to write out the policies and procedures for my job and to train a backup … “just in case.”

At the end of January things were so optimistic. We met with a financial planner and were willing to sign up with him to help navigate college expenses for two girls and our retirement. The wife’s quarterly bonus was the biggest yet. I was looking forward to a nice bonus myself for the stressful hard work done from August to January implementing new software company-wide. Now all that is, at best, on hold, and at worst, a nice memory from another time.

What has Hopper been doing to maintain his sanity in our enforced worldwide quarantine? Well, I was walking until the neverending rains came to town. I still eat well and take a whole host of supplements and vitamin C. I’m up to two cups of tea a day. Thinking about throwing the weights around again after a six-week layoff. I should, as I know of no faster way to one-eighty depression.

But reading has been my solace. Finally finished the absolutely wonderful, delightful, page-turning Count of Monte Cristo. Kudos for Patch for asking me to read it with her. I’m looking forward to writing my thoughts on the great work, and you should read those thoughts, too. In the spirit of Easter, which we won’t be having this year I suppose, I have now moved on to Exodus by Leon Uris, a book that’s been sitting in the On Deck Circle for nearly eight years. Spiritually, my new guru is keeping me focused on what truly counts (Hint: it’s a three-letter word beginning with the letter “G”). Which is good, as the Catholic Church has essentially rolled over and played dead these past couple of weeks, leaving her flocks leaderless, at least from a temporal perspective.

My historical novel is slowly inching along. Have about 80 percent of the outline completed, and as far as research goes, I have two slim books to digest. If this thing comes off half as good as I’m imagining it to be, I’ll be satisfied. Excitedly so. Have characters created, scenes visualized, the spine of a plot in place. A theme, possibly more than one, coalescing from the fog of genesis. This weekend I’m going to work out the rust by penning my opening scene. It’ll be painful, but at the first draft stage you’re only focused on word count.

Little One continues to develop her cuisanary skillz, which we are all enjoying to no end, and Patch is creative as ever, always doing something arts-n-crafty, or writing poetry, or composing music on her laptop, or a dozen other things. Her soccer coach sends her a daily workout which she does, videos, and returns to him along with all her other isolated teammates. We all have been in an action-spy-thriller groove for our post-dinner entertainment this past fortnight, watching the Krasinski Jack Ryan Netflix series, The Hunt for Red October, Patriot Games, and, over the past two nights, 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi.

Well, I see some work emails have accumulated. More to follow. Monte Cristo review scheduled in two days …