This Is Us

 The S.A.G. Awards have been delayed this year because of the pandemic. I've been a member of the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (AFTRA) since 1986, and joined the Screen Actors Guild a year later when I had one line on General Hospital, which made me eligible. Now the unions are merged. Every year, the studios send out DVDS or allow one to stream their movies and television shows, with the hope that they will get votes in the awards program. It's a lot less glitzy and less exclusive than the Academy Awards, but it is actors voting for other actors. 

In Los Angeles, I often saw many of the nominated movies before the awards season. I haven't been in a movie theater since 2019. Joe and I don't watch television. I spend my time now with books, connecting with people online, and with my work on Morgantown's City Council. 

I've watched a few television shows online, and one movie, Minari, about a Korean family living on a farm in Arkansas. I saw an episode of the show about John Brown and about the girl who plays chess. They were good. But the one that's caught me up is This Is Us, one of the few shows from a traditional network (NBC). The shows they sent to stream are from the fourth and fifth season. I've watched some of it in past years, and I've always liked it. The first year it was nominated it took me some time to figure out the premise. It's a family, and the children in one episode are the adults in another episode. The glue is the father, played by the gorgeous (IMHO) Milo Ventimiglia, who is dead. We see him as a young lover, a husband and a Dad to the three children,  a son and daughter, and the Black child born the same day as the son, and raised along with him. 

What's hooked me on this show is the way the past lives on for the adult children, and for the mother. They remember everything, and we see everything, and how it plays out for them. The acting is terrific, and I find the foibles and hang-ups of the three grown children moving.

I'm writing this at 5 A.M. Monday. I've been awake since three. No reason particularly, it's just that after the third time one gets up to go to the bathroom, it can be hard to get back to sleep. When I'm up late, I think about my seventy-one years of life, and the things that have happened. I go over events from ages ago, and sometimes wonder how I got to where I am now. Often I think about friends and family who have died. March is hard for me anyway. My father died March 17, 1991, and my mother died March 18, 2003. So of course, I think about them, just as the grown children on This Is Us remember their father. 

In an episode in Season Four, the mother is diagnosed with a major health issue. She has remarried, and her husband is there for her. My Mom had a boyfriend when she became ill, who stayed with her through her illness, and helped me and my sister through our mourning period. He died a few years ago. 

It's been hard this last year for everyone. Friends have been quarantined because someone in their kid's school tested positive for the coronavirus. Others have juggled full-time jobs and children home from school; an older friend lost his wife, who was in a nursing home. He wasn't allowed to see her for months before she died. Jobs disappeared and people couldn't pay rent or utilities or buy food. I've been home with Joe for a year. We have not lost income, been sick, or had people close to us die. Still, we're dealing with the sadness of not being able to travel, to eat inside a restaurant (we do carry-out) or see people in person. Our closest friends, still, are in California. 

Like the characters in This Is Us, I still live in my childhood, my adolescence and my earlier adulthood, with the great things that happened, the mistakes and missteps, the grief over the loss of friends in the AIDS pandemic in the 1980s and 90s, the relationships I've screwed up and the people I've hurt and those who've hurt me. Facebook has brought back friends from years ago, and at my fiftieth high school reunion, now almost four years ago, everyone was so kind and loving. I'm still comforted by that. 

I don't want to get all maudlin, like some of the stories on This Is Us, but like those characters, I, and maybe all of us, need to acknowledge and deal with our demons, be better to one another and appreciate the love we have in our life.

The Election So Far Part 2

 We all know what happened last week. I still find it unbelievable that people are so delusional about who Donald Trump really is. I've seen videos of people, who after overrunning the Capitol, are told they won't be able to get on a plane to go home. Then they lose their job. "They called me a terrorist, and they're ruining my life," one said. Well, yeah. You are a terrorist, and you messed up your own life. It's clear now that people thought they could do whatever they wanted because they are White. I'll just put that out there. I don't see any other explanation. 

I'm listening to NPR news, and they said Vice President Pence won't invoke the twenty-fifth amendment. That's not a surprise. He and other Republicans want Trump to go away next week, but with a minimum of drama. That's not how it works. If Congress can get rid of him before January 20, I'm fine with that. 

I've never been a fan of the Republican Party, not since Spiro Agnew in 1968 dissed college students at a rally I attended when I was a college student. There are people who have been kind to me and to Joe who are Republicans, and I haven't "unfriended" them because we have a history, but I will keep a distance from them unless they beg me for forgiveness and agree to change. In Judaism, it's called t'shuva, or repentance. 

In West Virginia, two of the three congresspeople (not mine, amazingly) voted not to certify all the election results. They need to go. And our Governor, a "great friend" of the President, pooh-poohs the whole thing, and isn't worried about reports that people are going to attack all fifty state capitals. Our Attorney General, Patrick Morrisey, signed on to Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton's failed lawsuit to overturn the election. He may also have helped pay for robocalls to Republicans to come to Washington. Today, the state NAACP called for Morrisey's impeachment, because he questioned the election only in cities with large Black communities, notably Philadelphia, Atlanta and Milwaukee. I'm all for it. 

And then, when the terrorists attacked Congress, everyone was herded into a safe room, several hundred people in a small space. Many of the Republicans were not wearing masks, and refused to put on masks when asked. Now, several Democratic lawmakers have become ill with covid-19. Those Republicans should go to jail. 

Maybe I just don't get it. Maybe because I never watched his television show, or because I think macho swagger is phony and unimpressive, I don't understand how anyone can follow this grifter as if he were some kind of god. In Judaism, this is called idolatry, and it's a big sin. 

It doesn't help when big corporations say they won't give money to Republican election campaigns. So why were they donating to these campaigns in the first place? Betsy DeVos, the education secretary, has resigned, saying "This is not who we are." Our Republican Senator, Shelley Moore Capito said the same thing. They have both finally spoken out in the last week of the Trump administration. Despite the nice clothes, immaculate hair and good jewelry, this is who they are. They think being polite and well-dressed separates them from the scruffy people at the Capitol, but no, they are not better or different from those people. 

I wish I could be here in fifty years, to see how history treats this. I hope we still have a democracy then, but I have my doubts. My hope now is that the Republican Party implodes, and that lots of people go to jail. 

2020 Oy!

 It wasn't all bad. I actually did lose about eight pounds, and got rid of three big bags of clutter. I could lose another ten pounds if I set my mind to it, and fill another fifty bags with junk to throw out. I started running last year in January, and at first it took me twenty-two minutes to run the course I chose, and today, in good weather, I did it in just over sixteen. Progress. I'm glad my City Council meetings are online, so I don't have to be downtown until 11 P.M. I read ten books from The New York Times "Best 100 Books of 2019," a lot for me, since reading puts me to sleep. I recommend Lost Children Archive by Valeria Luisella and Pulitzer-winner Colson Whitehead's The Nickel Boys. Both of these books are heartbreaking, but this was the year for that. 

In 2019, I visited eleven counties within three hundred miles of here, one a month, except December, and Joe and I spent a week each in San Francisco and Los Angeles in late spring, Thanksgiving in Memphis, and a week in late December in New York City. We were able to stamp our "bicoastal élite" passports. In December 2019, I visited my sister  in Maryland and planned to go on to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, the ninety-sixth county in my series, when Joe called that a congregant had died. I came home instead for the funeral.

After the New York trip, we returned to Morgantown December 30, and  I proceeded to get sick. I had the headache, coughing and fever that could have been Covid-19, only we didn't know about that. I went to WVU Medicine, and they said it was viral, take Tylenol, drink fluids, and rest. I developed a sinus infection, and went back for antibiotics. 

In February, I made it to Harrisburg for an overnight trip. It's a great city, but I ran myself ragged and was way tired. By the beginning of March, I was feeling strong again. We had services at temple Friday,March sixth, our annual Purim party on Saturday, an interfaith dinner at a church downtown on Sunday,  and Purim on the real date at Chabad on Monday. By then we had heard of coronavirus and had Friday's service socially distanced. Not many people showed up. 

We had a crazy long City Council meeting on Tuesday the tenth, and I figured I would go to Delaware County, Ohio on Wednesday and come back Friday before services. At that point there were no Covid-19 cases in Ohio or West Virginia. Wednesday morning, I read that three cases had turned up in Cleveland, and Governor DeWine was closing Ohio State in Columbus. I decided not to go.

December 29, yesterday, there were more than 1300 new cases in West Virginia. December 7, there were more than 9,000 new cases in Ohio. and as of today, 341,000 Americans have died. People are still arguing about masks. Businesses have closed and people are out of work, out of money, and out of food, yet the United States Senate is still arguing about helping people financially. I am sickened by the thought that this country has reached a dead end.

At least the Democrats won the election. They're not a perfect party, but the Republicans have shown themselves to be deaf, dumb and blind to what is going on. Still, the current President, who is spending this week on vacation in Palm Beach, is fighting the election results, not accepting his loss, and today people in Congress said they will challenge the results. The Vice-President is skiing in Vail. 

I remember in the early days of the AIDS crisis, in 1982, when people said it wasn't a big deal. "I don't know anyone who has it" was a common refrain. I worked for Social Security in the Miami area, and I saw handsome young men come in to apply for disability, and often the case would come back before it was adjudicated because the claimant had died. The rules were changed so that we could approve them in the office if they said they had AIDS. Some wouldn't do that, because of the stigma involved.  I took that seriously, and I'm here to tell the story. People are just now taking this virus more seriously. It was in the news today that a Republican Congressman-elect in Louisiana, who had recently called for opening the economy to avoid "disaster" had died of the virus. 

There were also protests about police brutality after the murder of George Floyd by a police officer in Minneapolis in May. The officer knew he was being recorded on cell phones, but thought this was something he could do. It was as much the brazenness, the idea that there would be no consequences, that see people against the police. The President's response was to blame the protesters, and he gassed people who were peacefully protesting, and sent in unidentified troops to round people up without charge. Here in Morgantown, there were protests, but we are not big city with a large minority population, and while there ae some issues with the police, they are relatively benign, and have done things like saving people from overdoses and jumping into the Monongahela River to save people from drowning. The City Council is discussing civilian oversight of the police, which has caused alarm in some quarters, while others fear we won't go far enough.

I'm in my fourth year on City Council. It's a lot like college: daunting the first year, then more comfortable the next two, then, the last year, just wanting it to be over. Everyone on Council put in a lot of work. We hired a new City Manager, dealt with a homeless encampment on city property in as humane a way as we could, dealt with a faltering budget and the fallout from the pandemic. We made rules to protect public safety following state guidelines, but stricter. We were sniped at from all sides through everything. 

My side project was pop music history at Osher Life-Long Learning at WVU. In the four-week winter term, I taught in person to a small group about Laura Nyro's first five albums. In the spring, I taught online about "The Great Hits and Albums of 1968." Summer brought six weeks called "Music from The Brill Building" about Jewish composers in New York who dominated pop music in the early sixties, writing for The Drifters, Gene Pitney, and girl groups like The Shangri-Las and The Crystals. In the fall I taught mostly albums from 1969, including artists who were new at Woodstock, like Crosby, Stills and Nash and Santana. The reviews were mostly good, but some complained that they were unfamiliar with the music, because I had veered away from Top 40. I'll teach 1970 in the spring, then that might be it. I'm ready for a change.

Joe and I visited Doddridge County, West Virginia, a very small county about sixty miles southwest of Morgantown. The county seat is West Union. In April, when we visited,  there had not been any Covid-19 cases there . We had lunch outside, took some pics and drove out to see a covered bridge. Outside of town, many homes had big banners and flags supporting th current President. We found the same thing traveling only sixteen miles north, to the tiny historic town of Greensboro, Pennsylvania. To me those flags might as well have had swastikas on them. In the summer, we visited our friends Scott and Jan, two gay men, who have a farm near Greensboro. We sat out on their porch and had lunch. Other than that day, we haven't seen friends live and in person. 

I did get to Ridgway, Pennsylvania, a few hours north of us, in the second county south of New York. It's a pretty place, and was still "green" on Pennsylvania' s map in June. It's in Elk County, which was my scheduled county for June. In Ridgway, people were masked, and restaurants were open with limited seating. In the smaller towns to the north, there were more signs out for the President. 

We took the risk of visiting my sister in Greenbelt, Maryland, once in the summer, and again  over Thanksgiving, just over two hundred miles away. We packed lunches and tried not to stop too often. My sister Robin has been cautious about going out, as we have, and we felt safe. A few days after we came back, we got tested and were both negative. 

I'd like to be hopeful about the future. The people in power scare me, and I hope that there is a peaceful transition on January 20th. I hope the vaccine is given to everyone and we are able to stop Covid-19. Our county is the only one in West Virginia that only gave the President a plurality of votes, and not a majority. People worked hard for state-level Democrats, all much better people than the Republicans, but none of them got the votes they needed to win. I truly despair for West Virginia. 

So far, we are well, and we have money, not a lot, but more than we've had in the past. We've been getting carry-out on Saturday nights from our favorite restaurants, and we've taken walks in the local parks and along the riverfront. We are not in danger of losing our house, or our healthcare. Joe's job is secure, at least for another three years. We are blessed in many ways, and I think our job this year is to be more charitable, to live more harmoniously in nature, and to be less materialistic. It's something to strive for.

I wish all of you reading this (averaging about 25) a healthful, prosperous, conscious 2021. 

Winter Solstice 2020

 The official time of the solstice is 5:03 A.M. EST Monday, December 21, between Chanukkah and Christmas, normally joyous times that have been tamped down by the coronavirus and the government's reaction, or lack thereof. We had snow this week in Morgantown, then temperatures just barely above freezing. It was pretty for a few days, but now it's getting slushy. And there's hardly been any sun for days. It feels like twilight just about all day.

Lots of people I know are posting on Facebook about how depressed they are. In the US  Senate, they have been arguing about sending people $600 in relief money (it just passed today, Sunday), while big corporations and rich people rake in billions. Our Governor here in West Virginia is sitting on CARES Act money while people are at risk of being evicted or having the lights shut off. Some money is going out to high school athletic teams and a possibly shady real estate deal here in Morgantown that the city is being asked to contribute to. 

A few posts ago, I said I might not run for City Council again next month. I thought if I could find a good progressive person in this ward, I would support them. If not, I would run again. I'm past that now. A well-meaning activist of my acquaintance called me Tuesday and asked if I was running. He  and others would support me, otherwise they needed to find someone at a "West Virginia Can't Wait" meeting that night. That group encourages people with no experience or connection to government to run; they often get slaughtered. I didn't know much before I ran for Council, but I at least got on the Library Commission and attended some Council meetings. I even spoke once or twice. It's harder to do that now, but people can come to meetings online and speak; they don't. I wish my friend had begged me to run again. I wish I still had a constituency that supported and encouraged me, but I don't. So no, I won't run again.

It's hard to give up a part of one's identity, but I've killed off part of myself and been reborn several times. I thought I might give up teaching at OLLI as well, but now I think only one change at a time. 

So I guess I have my own  issues. We have food and our health (so far). I stay away from anywhere where an armed militia might show up. I fear for my country in the next month. Our Congressperson didn't sign on to the Texas lawsuit to invalidate the election. The other two in West Virginia and our Governor, Secretary of State and Attorney General did. It's unbearable that these people run West Virginia. It's hard for me to even be here.

It will get colder here in West Virginia next month, but the light will come back, and hopefully, despite everything, there will be a vaccine, and a new and better administration for our country. I hope that I and so many of the people I know find a way out of depression. As they and I know, it's not pretty.

How We Are Doing

I have algoritms.
Groceries on Sunday and Thursday.
Laundry Tuesday and Friday.

Tuna for lunch; fake burgers and corn for dinner Monday.
Carry out Saturday night (pizza, Thai, Chinese, Japanese, Indian).

Cleaning woman alternate Wednesdays, so

We go out for burritos or wraps

I run in the morning, walk a half-hour before sunset.

Same route, except different direction to walk on odd and even days.

Garbage and recycling out Thursday.

City Council three Tuesdays each month.

Four breakfasts in order:

1) toaster waffles

2) oatmeal and cream of wheat alternating

3) egg whites and toast with spinach, onions and mushrooms

and cream cheese.

4) Cereal: rice or corn Chex Mom's Whole Wheat 

All but #4 with yogurt (nonfat, plain) and fruit

Services online Friday night

I light candles and chant Kiddush

Taught six weeks of Music from the Brill Building

Six weeks of The Great Hits And Albums Of 1969,

Working on 1970 for spring

Rabbi Joe has lots to do with temple

See his blog for info (he doesn't have a blog)

Sleep late morning and/or afternoon.

Read Morgantown Dominion-Post and Charleston Gazette-Mail daily

Washington Post and New York Times Sunday edition

I read books, listen to records and CDs (tape player broken)

Waiting for the inauguration of President Biden to:

Get the kitchen sink fixed

Buy more CDs (new McCartney, Taylor Swift0

New running shoes

New portable cassette player

After the current unpleasantness, I want to

visit more counties near here 

(92 down, 28 to go by June 2022).

Plotting my escape to somewhere more friendly, less Republican,

Warmer, cheaper. Probably won't do it.

How are you coping?

Pandemic Thanksgiving

At Robin's

 Typically, I go with Joe to visit his family in Memphis at Thanksgiving. His aunt and uncle host Thanksgiving dinner. Joe's sister lives in Memphis, and his brother comes up from Louisiana. He has a cousin with a husband and kidskin Memphis, and her sister, also with a husband and two kids comes from Austin. Other cousins sometimes show up from Buffalo, Portland, Boston and Eureka. We drive to Pittsburgh, catch a plane, change at Atlanta or Charlotte, stop for lunch, and land in Memphis where we rent a car and drive to a hotel. We spend time with family, brunch at his cousin's, we go to a bar part-owned by Joe's sister and we try out several restaurants.

This year, the CDC said not to go anywhere because of a spike in novel coronavirus cases all over the country. My sister Robin invited us to visit in Greenbelt, Maryland, a bit more than two hundred miles from Morgantown. I had my doubts, but Joe was anxious to get out, and my sister, after she had invited us, suffered a back injury and needed our help. 

So we went. Instead of stopping at a restaurant for lunch, we packed sandwiches and fruit, and ate lunch in the car at a rest stop. We stopped at three rest stops on the way.

Greenbelt is a progressive city in Prince George's County, outside Washington, D.C. The rules there are that you can't be out of the house without a mask. I went out to run in the morning and Joe and I walked in the evening. People approaching us moved into the street to maintain six feet of distance from us.

Robin had picked out our menu, which, of course, included turkey. I have not eaten any meat since late March, when there were coronavirus cases at meat-packing plants, and the companies (and the United States government) seemed to think it was good that people were dying, because at least we had meat on the table. I could have lived on the plentiful side dishes, but I went for the turkey just these few days. 

We did go out Friday with a shopping list for the Co-Op, a locally owned grocery, a check to cash at the bank, and we stopped to have the tires checked on the car, since the tire light had gone on as we neared Greenbelt Wednesday. We had them change the oil as well. We were out for about two hours, not near anyone. Robin and Joe played scrabble and we watched "Jeopardy" together. We did housework for Robin also, and helped prepare meals with her. I read a book and kept up with social media. Robin put up pictures of us, usually eating. On Friday night, Joe's online Shabbat service was from Robin's dining room table, and he ran Saturday morning Torah service from Robin's little office. 

We packed up and left Sunday, with sandwiches, fruit and a cookie in a bag for lunch. I thought Robin was trying to delay us. She said over and over how much she appreciated our being there, and how her back was felling better.

I was nervous about traveling at all, but the traffic was light, and we didn't hang out with lots pf people. In fact, Greenbelt is safer than Morgantown because people are all masked and socially distanced. People take the coronavirus restrictions seriously. I don't always get that impression in Morgantown. I resented my sister's bossiness at first, but I found my compassion after a while. She needed help, and she is the only one who knows what it was like growing up in my parents' house.

We got back yesterday afternoon. We unpacked, I took a short nap while Joe made dinner, and I went out for groceries, where I had to complain about an unmasked employee and tell a few people that the mask has to be over your nose. Today (Monday) I'm overtired, but still managed to run this morning. One day, I'm going to have to take it easy, as befits my advanced age. I don't think I was exposed to coronavirus this trip. 

I'm glad we went, and I understand why people chafed under the recommendation to stay home. We didn't take a big risk, and it was great just to be away for a time.

The Election - So Far

 Joe Biden won the election. Joe Biden won the election. Joe Biden won the election. Keep repeating until all the Republicans get it. The current President is doing everything he can to overturn the result. He's not dealing with the pandemic, the failing economy, or how to roll out a vaccine as soon as next month. He's sulking, tweeting, filing lawsuits and playing golf. It's horrible. And most Republicans won't say this is a waste of time and money, undermining democracy and destroying the reputation of the Republican Party. I hope they all get their comeuppance.

I live in West Virginia, where the current President won 68.6% of the vote, according to Politico. That's down .1% from his percentage in 2016. Monongalia County, where I live, is the only county in our state that did not give the current  President a majority, but only 49.4% to Biden's 48.2%. That's down .7% from the 50.1% he won in 2016. 

I know lots of Democratic activists in our county. We have a robust party that worked hard to sign up new voters and get out the vote. The results are disappointing. I thought it would be clear that the choice was between a grifter, a liar, a person with no morals, and a guy who may not set the world on fire, but will bring some sanity to the White House. All of that work barely made a dent. I don't pretend to understand.

I am a City Councilor in Morgantown. We have a liberal group of seven on Council; not as liberal as some would want. I don't have statistics by precinct, but I know that in Morgantown city, the home of West Virginia University, we did not vote for the current President in 2016, and I'm sure we didn't in 2020, since the race was close, and the city is the most liberal part of the county. 

Our Council election season starts in January, with the vote at the end of April. The last election, two years ago, my opponent, put up by a real estate developer, was convicted of fraud. Another man, a Republican Party operative, signed on as a write-in a month before the election. This time, I don' t know if I have enough energy to do this again. I'm the queer Jew on the Council, and I've lately been attacked by some queer people and non-observant Jews on the left. I'm not certain I have any constituency at this point, and at seventy-one, I might be just as happy being really retired. My husband, Rabbi Joe, has three and a half years on his contract with his congregation. He loves his work, and the congregation has been good to us both, but if he wants  to retire at that point, I would be happy to go elsewhere. 

I predict that with Republicans winning all statewide offices and a supermajority in the state House of Delegates and Senate, that five or six thousand young, educated people in this state will leave in the next year.