Day 358, March 8, 2021
Super Hero Moment
Today's soundtrack: Steve Gadd Band, North Sea Jazz Festival 2019
On the weekends, I try to stay in bed even when I wake up early. It feels like a right to be cherished after working all week and being the first one out of bed Monday through Friday. But, I struggle to sleep once I've opened my eyes and end up reading everything on the internet. One of the articles I read this weekend was an interview with Tony Bennett, who talked about his experiences witnessing the racism embedded in the military where they enforced segregation and punished violators of segregation like him. They did this while they were fighting against fascism and freeing concentration camps.
Talking about the horrors he witnessed, he said that he came away from the war a pacifist with the realization that all war is insane. I can't but agree with him. We are all such surprisingly fragile containers for humanity.
A few years ago, I read an article about the after effects of gang violence on the gang members. We are brainwashed by the images of bravado and resilience in action movies where Rambo cauterizes his own gunshot wound, or James Bond continues to woo women after surviving a gunshot wound and several car crashes. But the reality of the survivors in that article was one of failing organs, reconnected intestines, a lifetime of chronic pain, assistive devices, forever altered diets.
To think that nations, people we elect to make decisions for our nation, willingly engage in such actions and activities when it is not absolutely crucial, is insane, as Tony Bennett says.
I'm not sure why this is so at the forefront of my mind. I suppose it might be connected with my go-bag. From what I understand, my go-bag panic moment was not isolated. For a period of time, entirely rational, educated people like myself, suddenly envisioned the collapse of civilization as we know it resulting in something like Cormac McCarthy's The Road. I remember a friend telling me to keep a reserve of cash in case the banks were closed. There were a lot of conversations about the expiration dates of medications in emergency kits. One relative was particularly enamored of a specific multi-tool.
I caught the pandemic paranoia relatively late, exacerbated by my fear of what might happen after the election. Rather than moderating my paranoia, the lateness of it just allowed me to learn from what everyone else had collected. I purchased a survival kit the size of a hardcover book that contained the ubiquitous Rambo style knife along with fishing hooks and a little flashlight, and several other things, none of which I could fit back into the case once I inspected all the tools. I also got an emergency kit ready to revive a victim after an encounter with a grizzly bear, or a particularly vicious splinter.
I went so far as to wonder if I should buy more pellets for my pellet rifle. My pellet rifle, which shoots one pellet at a time and which I put away deep in my closet after I was too traumatized after shooting the Sunday Times to shoot a mama raccoon that was pillaging the chickens.
The truth is, I'm probably the last person you want in your army or zombie resistance squad. My knees are achey and I groan when I have to bend over and tie my shoes. My one asset is a stubborn tenacity. But even that is not really worth much when the zombies are breaching the neighborhood.
This weekend we took Franklin out to the Sand Plains in Montague. Much of the path was a solid sheet of ice. About half way through our loop, I broke through the ice into a surprisingly deep, 8-12 inch puddle of ice cold water. It rose up over the tops of my hiking boots and up my pant legs. I decided the only thing to do was run back to the car and hope my toes didn't start to freeze. It was my Jason Bourne moment. Here I was, a good mile out from the car with feet soaked through. I set off with a resigned determination. I passed a bewildered dog walker and we exchanged salutations as he held his dog beside him. The truth is, my Jason Bourne moment is more of a gentle jog. Even so, I impressed myself with how much ground I covered. I managed to keep running until the last straight stretch to the parking lot, where my knee started to complain a little, so I shifted to fast paced walk until I reached the car and turned on the heat.
Surprisingly, with all the commotion, I never really felt cold. My pant legs did freeze above the ankle, but my feet were mainly just damp.
In the aftermath of watching Wandavision on TV, we've been watching all the Avengers movies in an attempt to understand the backstory. Running through the woods, along the power lines, across the icy landscape, this was my super hero moment, and I safely made it home. The zombies didn't get me.
Take care and stay safe,
Leo
From Our Friends:
From the NYT:
From the Five College Center for East Asian Studies:
From the Korean American Community Foundation:
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