Pandemic Diary IV: The COVID Winter — “Control what you can control, and let the rest go.”

We are now in the deepest darkest winter of this Coronavirus pandemic, with the infection numbers rising sharply and the government restricting even further our activities. I read yesterday there were some 3,100 new coronavirus deaths nationally and 216,548 new cases reported on December 3, 2020; and that over the past week, there has been an average of 180,327 cases per day — an increase of 8 percent from the average two weeks earlier. That is significant growth in reported SARS-CoV infections. The United States has endured some 277,000 COVID-19 reported deaths since March. That number will only go up, alas.

So here we are — death and disease abound.

We Americans have been warned about this “difficult and dark” December and January we will endure before vaccines start rolling out en masse and make their way into the general population next year. Spring and “rebirth” might be right around the corner in 2021, but we must suffer this 2020 “Covid winter” first. Yesterday California Governor Gavin Newsom announced he was “closing down the state” again with a dramatic “stay-at-home order.”

Briefly I suffered a bit of panic. Would they shut down the beaches and tennis courts again? The swimming pool I depend on so much? But no, there were a long list of exceptions to mandatory closings, and it appears my life is not going to change any more than it already has. The Pierpont Racquet Club, where we practice strict “social distancing” policies, is not going to be closed. It appears Newsom “shutting down” California is more rhetoric than reality. The government says it is “targeting” activities and locations which most spread disease, but they don’t really know what they’re doing, alas. Other than shutting down parts of the economy, urging Americans to wear masks, and to “social distance,” they are at a loss. Politicians have grown desperate to reduce the spread of disease. So we have these desperate measures.

The COVID numbers go up or down these past ten months, but my lifestyle has remained essentially unchanged. I have no idea why the disease numbers go up or down. Nothing has changed in my behavior, or that of anyone I know. We have behaved the same since the beginning of this mess. I doubt the “experts” know what is happening and why in the spread of the SARS-CoV virus. Public officials are making it up as they go along in these unusual times, whether it is about opening or closing schools or explaining virus influxes or virus effluxes. That much is clear. Close public playgrounds for little kids but allow my tennis club to remain open?

Not that I’m complaining.

It can all be a bit much. Gavin Newsom’s “stay-at-home” order prohibits gatherings with anyone “outside of your own household.” Not see my father, brother, or sister down in Orange County? My buddy Dan or Jim? Never hit tennis balls with Frank, Vance, Shyam, or my other tennis buddies? Kiss my ass, Governor Newsom! And a curfew at night? A government order “not to leave home unless it’s absolutely necessary”? Am I in jail? In communist China? Kiss my ass two times, Gavin!

As explained in my first pandemic diary entry — where I first expressed my indignation with our good governor — exercise has been key to my pandemic survival. But since it gets dark so early in winter, I have biked less than in the summer. And I have gotten a bit of tendonitis in my left shoulder from so many miles and miles of swimming laps. I rarely take a day off from swimming, largely because swimming is an excuse to get out of my house and do something. I have never before had an overuse injury from swimming. That is new. I am a bit proud, but I am also threatened: if I can’t swim because of injury, my mental health is at risk — I know this. If the government shuts down my pool, I am in trouble. The tennis continues unabated, and I have enough matches lined up in this new environment; my tennis circle of friends was exploded by the pandemic and the lockdowns, but I have created a new one which works. The idea that tennis spreads COVID is ridiculous, and I doubt they will shut down the tennis courts again. But you never know with Gov. Newsom. 

I have been more on my rowing machine since it has gotten dark so early. I have made good friends with the “Dark Horse” rowing association and founder Shane Farmer’s wonderful YouTube channel. There is room for growth in my rowing; it is a great all-body workout. My HIIT workouts on the rowing machine don’t take long. They are short and sharp and indoors, exactly the opposite of my long bike rides along the beach to the Santa Barbara County line and back. The indoor rowing workouts are good for fall and winter and the dark. I will get back to my beach bike rides and the sun next spring and summer.

After ten months of this I am in excellent physical condition. In normal times I don’t have the time to workout so hard. But I have had the time during this pandemic. I have taken full advantage. Silver linings.

Yet overall, I am exercising less than in the summer. I am listening to my body, and in the dark of winter maybe it’s appropriate to dial it back and semi-hibernate. I need rest and recovery to heal the muscles and tendons which are suffering from overuse, while at the same time continuing to exercise enough to burn the crazy off: that is the ideal middle ground. As long as I have my tennis, swimming, and road bike, I could do this pandemic lifestyle indefinitely. I don’t go to parties. I don’t attend live music or frequent bars. I don’t attend church services. I don’t miss football games or dinner parties. I’m an introvert. I’m 53-years old. My needs from society are relatively few.

But that is me personally.

My daughters have more extensive needs in terms of education and socialization. That is more difficult. I fret for them and their development. I do what I can for them where I can. I worry I don’t do enough.

I could care less about how the pandemic is affecting Brazil, Italy, or India. I don’t even care much about what is happening in neighboring Los Angeles County. My family. Myself. My friends. The most essential lower levels of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs get my attention. I wish everyone well, but first things first. “Control what you can control, and let the rest go.” I have said it so often these past few months my friends have started repeating it to me.

What else? 

I have continued to have this strange affinity for Ludwig van Beethoven’s music. Usually Beethoven is too rich a brew for me. I can listen to only so much Beethoven in more normal times. Not now. That is interesting. Maybe there is more to mine psychologically in my new preference? What does it say about me and Beethoven? About the times we live in? In contrast, the superficial charm and polish of Joseph Haydn leaves me unmoved. Before 2020, it was just the opposite. 

Bridging the lightness and play of Haydn and the heavy seriousness of Beethoven, there is the figure of Mozart who can perform both roles. But now is not the time for the playful charm of a Mozart piano concerto. Now is the time for death music and Mozart’s Requiem Mass —

Yes, these are strange days indeed. Dark days. A time of plague: illness and death — “days of wrath, days of anger.”

I wonder what I will think in five or ten years when I look back at this epidemic. What conclusions will I draw with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight? What will I think of my reaction to all this? How I chose to ride out this horrible year?

Here is a curious but telling almost daily occurrence: In the evenings after work and all my workouts, I shower and put on my “adult clothes” and get ready to go out and engage the world. What do I do for excitement at night? My plans for the early evening? I get dressed up… and I go to the grocery store. That is all that is open. Then I return home and get ready to wrap things up for the evening.

There is nothing else to do.

Often I curl up under a blanket and listen to Jim Svejda’s Evening Program on KUSC. Svejda’s show has been on the radio continuously since 1983, and I have been listening to it on and off since then. Jim has a voice unlike any other. Curiously enough, I don’t pay that much attention to Jim’s idiosyncratic music preferences or colorfully anecdotes spoken during the show. But Svejda’s voice itself is…. distinctive and different. After so many years, his voice is comfortable and comforting. Familiar. I read once that in a job application as a teen, Jim filled in the line which asked for his religion with this answer: “Mozart.” I love that! I would be tempted to answer the same, but I am not wedded to any religion, not even Mozart.

So I listen to Jim Svejda’s show often, and it has given me enormous pleasure these past few months.

I have almost all the music I like already on my various iPhone playlists. But I still go to the live radio broadcasts to get that sense of serendipity and community only they can confer. Recently more than ever this has become important. Using my TuneIn Pro app I listen to KUSC, KDFC, Radio Classique, Radio Swiss, etc. I look out my window into the evening sky and regard the moon. It is quiet. I look forward to this time of the day. There is peace. In an unpeaceful time this calm is precious.

I read stories to my younger daughter, Elizabeth. I tuck her in with several blankets to protect her from the overnight winter chill. I try to get the house all dark so we can get to sleep early enough to be refreshed the next morning. Elizabeth will not sleep until the entire house is dark and at rest.

Evenings in our household are for reading. Recently I have managed to read George Orwell’s 1984 to my older daughter, Julia, despite her sullen teenage reticence. That is a major victory. I taught 1984 for twenty straight years to my high school students, and to be able to share this great book with Julia has given me immense satisfaction. I have felt guilty for not doing more to help my older daughter in the last few months of this pandemic, as Julia has appeared happy enough spending huge amounts of time in her room with the door closed texting her friends and doing God knows what. But we enjoyed Orwell’s masterpiece. “Winston is a hollow man! Big Brother won!” she exclaimed to me in dismay towards the end. Yes, he is. Yes, he did.

Next I will try to get through Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World with her. Get as much done before Julia is totally done with her old man in the darkest depths of sullen adolescence. Like so many other teenagers, Julia has drunk deeply from the well of youth lit dystopia in The Hunger Games, Allegiant, and The Maze Runner series. Now with 1984 and Brave New World, she can sample the real thing in terms of adult lit dystopia. She can read, enjoy, and benefit from the classics. Enough already with the youth lit — bring on the adult lit. Time to grow up! 1984 was an unqualified success; Julia loved it. With a diffident thirteen-year old who values her independence and privacy, I will take my successes where I can. I have to remember to keep reaching out to my teenage daughters, even when they refuse my offers and stay to themselves. A few short years from now Julia will be off to college. Take advantage while I can.

The days pass and the lengthy nights follow them. We are in December 2020 and the winter sun sets early. We quiet down. We read. I listen to classical music. It gets dark at 4:45 pm and so by 8:00 pm it feels later than it is. In comparison to summer we go to sleep earlier in winter after long, dark evenings.

Another day ends, and the sun rises the next morning. December 2020 continues apace. This miserable year is not over yet.

But soon it will be January 2021. Then March and May. The sun will shine for longer. Spring will be at hand — Easter and “rebirth.”

We can start anew. 

Vaccines will arrive. The COVID numbers will start to come down — hopefully. Sooner or later, herd immunity will arrive. Another era will begin.

“This too shall pass.”

Amen.