What Is Essential?

Once, the things that were essential were as obvious as they were hard to come by. Water, food, shelter, heat, clothing, family.

Now, and for a long time,it has taken more than a cave or a few trees, a river, and a garden to provide these things. As we have learned to live with more people in less space, our essential needs have to be provided by others. Food is shipped, water is piped, fuel is distributed, clothes are made elsewhere, and the people we live among may be complete strangers who behave, well, strangely.

With a pandemic going on, many places have shut down all non-essential services.

If you go driving through our towns and cities, you see very few businesses that have actually closed. Those businesses are likely to be privately owned, personally run largely unstaffed family-owned businesses.
Some families last desperate attempt at continued survival in a world where someone else is in charge of supplying the necessities.

All the businesses are essential to someone. 
All stores have a niche market for their goods; all food places have a demographic, all shops have a clientele.

But do all the dollar stores need to be open? (Yes, if you want/need inexpensive goods while unemployed or working reduced hours.)
Does every McDonald's need to be open, when sitting on a strip of road that also has Wendy's, Arby's, White Castle, Skyline , and others, all sitting nicely in a row just waiting to feed the hungry?  (People still need to eat, and there are many people who cannot or will not cook, for whatever reasons. And why should Wendy's ask McDonalds to be the one that closes, the one that loses during this type of a shutdown? Who chooses, if not the customers?)

Do crafting and hobby shops and hardware stores and home improvement centers need to be open? (Yes, if you need to keep people occupied and busy. Yes if you need home repairs done, if something needs fixed.)

And the truth is, this fierce competition to be needed has in many cases and in many places prevented the price gouging that so often comes with shutdowns.
Lord knows, there are people who went our and created a false demand -- or at least, a false lack of supply -- for specific products.

But, because we do have good supply chains and ingenuity, those people are now stuck with their greedy proceeds and no outlet for them.
And it is the competitive  services that are, for the most part, holding prices steady.

There are some businesses that are non-essential except in some circumstances, for some people. Many of these, such as beauty salons have adapted. If you really need to be beautified, you can usually find a place that will make an appointment just for you, or for a select few. And whether the need is physical (perhaps a skin scrub to prevent acne that becomes infected) or mental (sometimes you want to stab that ugly person in the mirror), it is still a need.

But who gets to decide if you're on the brink of collapse or not? Who gets the right to tell you you have to be unkempt another day?

Who should be deciding who can work and who must close, when there are several places offering the same products and services, and equally as important, providing price controls?

It seems that someone should be, yet why should any one body wield that kind of power? 
That isn't right.

I don't know the answer, especially in these small world, big city days.
In small towns, in villages and hamlets and crossroads, if there are competitive services, maybe they could take turns. Mondays for McDonald, Wednesday for Wendy's. But they -- the business owners, the chambers of commerce, the 'ruling agencies' -- would need to be scrupulously fair, and that could be difficult in ordinary circumstances. It is certainly an extraordinary chore when face to face meetings and around the table handshakes and smiles, nodding heads, etc are not part of the conflict resolution.

No, I don't know the answer.

I just wish someone(s) did.

Constantly Changing.

The situation with this coronavirus (COVID-19) changes every day. If there isn't always new news, there are always new rumors.

Always.

2 days ago , gastric symptoms were added to the cases of the infection.

1 day ago, it was suggested that pinkeye (conjunctivitis) may be becoming yet another manifestation of this illness.

There have been rumors from the beginning about pets (dogs especially) having and spreading the virus. People have been dumping and abandoning their dogs in record numbers, (shame on them) although there has been, as yet, no proof of truth to this rumor.

I did see one item about the first case diagnosed in a dog. It was a reputable source, but it was one source only. No confirmation, no accreditation, and no spread of information. I am also unable now to find the original article, so it may have been pulled.

It's easy, and possibly optimistic, to think these reports are being inflated by the politicians and spread by the mindless media. Every time it starts to look as if we're getting a handle on this thing -- some kind of control -- here they come with another wave of hysteria and histrionics.

But let's take a minute.

Let's think a minute.

What if this rapid mutation and constant adaptation is what first had the specialists watching it so closely to start with?

What if the viral infectious disease as first noticed was never the reason or the problem?

What if it was the mutability?

What if it was the adaptation?

What if it's been the possibility of it becoming that is what the WHO (World Health Organization) first noticed, and they alerted the CDC (Center for Disease Control) and just said "Watch this. Look what it is doing."?  

What if those organizations said the same to the governments they answer to, and said governments said "Meh. It's another flu."

And the WHO and CDC are saying, but look, watch out, and no one would do that?

This virus has already crossed species.

If the unsubstantiated dog story was true, or the rumors, then it has once again crossed species.

This virus already accelerated (mutated) from an upper respiratory infection into a pneumonia.

This virus has adapted from the respiratory system to the digestive system.

This virus is destroying senses. Loss of taste and smell are becoming more common reports. Not a big deal, on its own. Those senses are affected by colds, so maybe it's been there all along.

Or maybe not.

Now the theory exists that the eyes may be affected by yet another adaptation.

Is that a move into the central nervous system?

Could it be a move into the brain itself?

One thing is for certain. This particular coronavirus is a survivor. It's doing everything to keep itself alive and reproducing. 

And that is why we are having to both observe and avoid it. 

And let us hope we have a reasonable population that can out-mutate it.

We will survive. 

(Probably)

But there may be many who do not adapt to this before it adapts to us.

Pandemic Pandemonium

In just two weeks, our world has rearranged and changed. Priorities are different. They have become, as it has not been for a few decades, about survival itself.

There is a plague. Not THE literal plague, but a plague just the same. Global governments are doing a balancing act between shutting down and taking over. Some are doing well; others not so much, but they are trying.

A lot of people don't "believe" in this illness, named COVID-19. It is being caused by a coronavirus that has a few different names. SARS2; novel coronavirus are the two that come to mind.

"They" are saying now that the illness has been around; that they were warned. Most of the population doesn't believe this.

The general public doubts the reality of COVID-19. They doubt the death rate -- flu kills more by percentage. An ill person is more likely to have a cold than a corona. The media is spreading hysteria. The states and cities are in on a conspiracy. The disease has been around since November, only no one knew it. It wasn't bad then; so it can't be that bad now.

I agree with some of these thoughts.
But do you know what?
It doesn't matter.

At this point, it doesn't matter.

Hysteria or conspiracy, the only way we are going to get out of this is by complyng. It can be a reluctant compliance. It can be a rebellious compliance. It can even be malicious compliance.

But the sooner everyone -- and I mean every single one of us -- complies, the sooner the conspirators will be disarmed and there will be no need for spreading propaganda.

If there is disease, it will be stopped in its tracks.
If there is no disease, they will be stopped in their tracks.

Please.
I want to see my grandchildren.
I want my grandson to have a fantabulous birthday party. (not gonna happen)
I want to go to the store and buy hamburger and toilet paper.
I want to walk in the parks and along the streets and be able to stop and speak to people I know and those I don't. Yet.

We have the power to end this.
By doing what we are asked, before it becomes what we are told.
By closing the doors of our homes from the inside, before they are closed for us from the outside.

Let's stop this illness in its tracks.
Let us defang and declaw it.
Let it starve to death for lack of fresh victims.

If it's not real, no one will be harmed.
If it is real, many may be saved.

Let us pause in the race for the dollar.
Let us pause in being best, first, leader, boss.
Let us become ourselves.
Let us enjoy ourselves.
Together.

KILL THE CORONA!

But I knew That...

Life sucks.

People suck.
Even the ones we rely on. Haha. They are the first to tell you you deserve the shit and throw in abot of name calling too.

Technology sucks.
It changes too fast and it keeps getting more automated and there are no checks and balances for the inhuman.


I am seeing a lot of memes and posts (*inspirational* haha) about what would you tell your self from ten years ago, or your 15 year old self, or reflective issues like that.

Sadly, grievingly, I have the same answer for them all.

End it Now.

Don't Wait.

It does NOT get better.

While there are moments -- good wonderful moments that should be cherished -- that are cherished -- the truth is that those moments are the biggest brightest lies. Like the brightest stars in the sky are the shooting stars.
Tis their death that brings the brilliance.

If you want to shine, die.


As a parent, I have failed. I did not give them a better life. I did not give them tools for making a better life. I failed them. I did not teach them how to have and sustain a loving relationship. How and why that didn't work, I don't know, but it (didn't) happen.

As a worker, I worked until I couldn't anymore, and am now useless.

As a writer -- ah, there you may think I did okay. I did better than many. I wrote.
and wrote.
and wrote.

I even saved a lot of it.

On floppy disks.
You know, like no computer still existing anywhere is ever able to read.

I saved some stuff on the cloud.
The cloud blew away.
I should say the cloudSSS blew away, because I've had to do a new cloud account with every computer crash.
And with every computer replacement, there is no way (that I can find) to access former computer cloud accounts.

so, I will wait, as I have been waiting all my life.
waiting to no longer have to wait.

What WILL I do with my time?

Bad day; Sad Day

This day just passing has been a bad, sad, discombobulated day.
I don't know why it's sad, but it is.
That's how it feels.
How it has felt.
All day long.
All afternoon.
All evening.
All night.

It was a thousand little "if anything could go wrong it will" day.
Nothing big; nothing ruinous; nothing disastrous.
Lost keys; forgot something at the store; every red light in town; trip over own feet; power strip stops working; internet goes out; etc.

Just one of those days.

It would be unremarkable if not for the sadness that seems to be in the very pores of the day.

I've tried analyzing. The sadness isn't the melancholy of depression.
It isn't the loss of any one or any thing. Thank God.
It isn't the aftermath of anger or argument.
It isnt because of rain all day -- that's a YAY! for spring is coming.

But, it has still been a bad, sad day.

Here's to the new day and new timing being a glad fab day.

My Verizon Isn't Mine.

My phone died.
It started getting hot, then hotter, until it wouldn't come on. Until it left a char mark on the cardboard I use for a mousepad.
So I bought another phone thinking to change the number over to the new phone.


This is where the nightmare begins.
First, I'm to get on a computer and sign onto my myverizon account.
I never set up a myverizon account; never needed to. Did everything through the phone; in reply to messages and such.


Next, I tried calling. Talk to someone; they do this all the time. Easy-peasy, right?
I pity the ignorance. Especially my own.


They -- the automated system -- no real people with brains and fingers and such -- want the PIN for my old phone.
Yeah, no PIN. I used a diagram/design thing for unlocking the phone and such. No numbers.


Okay, we'll go through Google. Whats your email, and then again, a PIN.
I don't have a PIN. I have a password. A password will not work. It needs to be numerical.


Also, it never got to this point, but the phone was set up using a different google account. Tam couldn't remember my address so sje made up a new one. A few password changes and attempts to link accounts, and I finally DID succeed in linking the two google accounts and getting my phone to get email and notices from my 'real' google account.
In my mind, the next roadblock will be/would be needing password to the made-up-for-the-occasion account. I have no clue. Haven't needed it for about a year for anything.


And, oh yes, any time you try to get to talk to a person, the automated system says that that is a wrong choice (I forget the exact words) and disconnects the call.


There's a Verizon store here in Mt Orab. It's mainly for selling contracts, but I may go and see if they can help me. Probably not; they already have a reputation for being NOT helpful unless you are contracting through them.


There's a Verizon owned Verizon store somewhere -- I think where Beechmont Mall used to be, or maybe at Eastgate. No, it would be too easy and simple for me if it were to be at Eastgate. Anyway, I'm not sure where it is. And I'm not sure if I'd even want to drive there on a weekend.

I am at the mercy of the robots

Old is New

Being old is a new thing. At least, being this old at this young an age. There are plenty of people living the dream of 60 being the new 40.
Lucky them.

Me, at not quite 62. I feel more like 82. Some days maybe even 102. I envy those 'young' people. I always thought I'd be one of them.

I thought walking would keep me young(er) forever.

And then it kept getting more and more difficult.

Now, as well, as not walking, I'm grossly overweight.
I hurt. My back spasms. My hips are randomly stiff. My butt muscles tighten and ache. My knees buckle. My ankles roll. My feet swell.

I feel cold.

I'm beginning to have trouble hearing as well as visual problems. Even though my basic vision, thanks to last year's cataract surgeries, is better than it has been for years.

The cold is as much a surprise as the not walking. Cold hasn't especially bothered me much in my life. Put on more clothes, wear socks; that takes care of that.
Except that it no longer does.
The cold is inside me, working its way out.
In my bones.
A part of my bones, liquid and silvery.
And shivery.

Some days I feel frail, fragile, and feeble. It's an odd feeling in a body the size of a cow. Anyone this large should feel somewhat strong, even if it's "only" the strength of a steamroller.

I hate it.
I hate this.
I don't want to be prematurely old.
I also don't want to be an old person acting stupid-young. Although who really gets to define that? After a certain age and a certain amount of living, we should all be able to be ourselves: silly, shivering, happy, sad, glad, mad -- our best or truest self isn't anyone else's business.

It's a New Year, but it isn't a New Me.
It's an Old me.
And getting older.

goodbye 2018; the Year of Bad

2018.
What can I say about you?
What GOOD can I say about you?

2017 was a year of deaths.
Big loud famous deaths, with quiet more personal ones tucked in here and there.
I miss my friend.

People were still dying in 2018.
The personal touch deaths did outweigh the famous ones.
Horrible, horrible deaths of Those Who Should Have Stayed.
They could have been the Shining Examples in a rotting world.
In fact, some WERE that Shining Example.
Why were they taken?
Just why?

Then there were older people dying, some foreseen, some not.
Rex's brothers have all crossed from this life to that, and leave behind families and friends and love.
Love remains.

Love always remains.
After a while it can even be a comfort instead of a black hole of emptiness.

Things die, too.
Appliances.
Cars.
Lifestyles.

All these losses happened in 2018. To me, to my loved ones, to others, to strangers.
They happened, as they always have and always will.
Together we get through it. Not always well, not always happily, but somehow. Bubble gum and chicken wire. Rubber bands and paper clips. A MacGyvered life.

All that noted, the most lasting impression I have of 2018 is that it has been the year of BAD CANDY.
Who knew there was such a thing?


And yet, from the time of crisis at the Necco plant, the year 2018 has been about BAD CANDY.

Much of the media, covering said Necco factory, proclaimed it to be a not-a-story, because people didn't care. Neccos are a BAD CANDY, generally unpopular with the public.
They did NOT explain why they were so assiduously covering this non-story

The year continued with "worst candy" lists.
Worst Valentines -- conversation hearts. The staple; the standard, after chocolate. (Everything comes after chocolate, right?)
Worst Easter -- Peeps. Another standard. I will say, though, that in trying to stay viable throughput the year, the Peeps people flooded the market and destroyed the exclusiveness of their little pink and purple chicks.

Summer came and they had to make do with produce and meat recalls, and fall back on Necco stories.

Worst Halloween -- candy corn.

Then there was a whole list of Christmas candies. A Top Ten Bad Candies for Christmas.
Eight of those were standard standbys for the season.

Who knew there were so many bad candies?

Who had even heard of such a thing?

Now, there are some candies that I have wondered how they are even considered candies. Licorice. Horehound.
But to peoples eating bland boring (winter) diets, I can see that the bite -- the burst of flavor and the tang -- would make thise things treats, if not what we consider candy.

So

Goodbye 2018.
Take with you the idea of Bad Candy.
There is no such thing.

Adventures in Driving in Heavy Traffic During Heavy Rain

Got to Anderson, no problem.
Back to Eastgate, no problem.

Traffic is horrendous. Occasional heavy downpours, steady rain otherwise. Road construction all through there. My wipers are doing their new thing where I have to sometimes keep turning them on -- up and down -- to keep them working. And of course the multiple idiots in white and gray cars who have NO DAMN HEADLIGHTS on.!
Get me outta here!

So. Batavia exit.
Slowed down to approach light at 132, still traffic, poor visibility. Get to dairy-bar-turned-into-dentist office.
And the car QUITS.
(quits running, still rolling, for whatever that's worth.)
Just -- quits.
No engine sounds, no static on radio, wipers were working.
No dash lights. That I noticed. May not have been looking in the right place -- never had to pay attention to those before.It's not hot, gauge is in the normal midrange. (A miracle in all that traffic)

So I whip (with no power steering and no forward inertia) it into that little lane/alley/road beside forementioned building. Try to start. clickety sounds. Sitting blocking thruway, I hop out and open hood. Jiggle the little black thing; jiggle the battery cable. (Both previous troublemakers)
Get back in the car and start it up. Yay! (Something must have jiggled loose, although nothing felt loose.)

Through Batavia and started up the hill.

It did it AGAIN! One moment vroom-vrooming merrily along, the next the whistling wind and pattering raindrops.
Fortunately near the pull off, before the church/Bauer/Brunk Rd intersection area.
Well, I'm not getting out there if I can help it. Not under those conditions. Tammy and I discuss who we can call and how they could help. I hit the key, and the darned thing starts up as if nothing had ever happened.

So we set off again. This time I figure it's not gonna hurt, so I turn the radio all the way down (couldn't find power under circumstances. I always have to look for it). Turned defog fan all the way down. Turned wipers off hitting the switch as needed to clear windshield.
The dashlights not coming on had me thinking 1)electrical 2)in the steering column.

Made it up the hill, with a lil bit of prayer. Engine did do a little stuttering as we neared the peak (if you want to call it that. In a shutting-down car, it's appropriate usage I think.) I begged it to just keep going, just keep on, and it did. Yay! Good Car!
Passed the school; passed the redlight that isn't there any more, sailed through Afton with out a hiccup.
Cruised through Williamsburg.
Did NOT stop for gas.
After Williamsburg, pure relief. At least, as I told Tammy, we were in home territory, even if we did have to call outliers (Rita and/or Jeanie) for help in getting home (before Hailey would find no one anywhere.)
On and on we go.
Into Mt. Orab. Should we go back roads (Carpenter) or through town. Decided to go through town. Better chance of rescue from there; better places to pull off if needed. So, on we go through traffic lights and turns, all the way through town, to the trailer park.

AGAIN! As I was making the turn. This time I saw the dash lights (which reinforces me thinking they didn't light up before. Because there they were for me to see without my having to look for them.
This time the engine turned over but didn't start, like it did a couple weeks ago when the fuel pump wasn't working.
Popped the hood, and yep, that lil black thing had wiggledy-jiggled loose (but not apart)Slid it tighter and started up again.

Hooray! Home again!
Here's to hoping we can get Tam to work and me and the kids back home again from that.

Didn't we have FUN?

Tourism and Traveling

I have gone traveling with my tourist sister twice now. And loved it.

It sounds, and is probably going to sound as if I consider "tourist"ing to be a bad thing. Let me make it clear that I do NOT. It's one way of doing the traveling thing. It's also an effective way to get an overview of a community or an area, and it gives one a common ground with the people one encounters, whether as a fellow traveller or as a sympathiser with those who Must Endure. If the visitor is a repeaat guest, the familiarity helps both sides of the bargain.

However, once  the initial visit has been made, my personal choice would be to go a little slower, wander more and tourist less, see the sights without sight seeing, and just -- travel. Travel through or travel around, whichever seems most appropriate for the place and time.

Yes, I am a meanderer.
My sister is a get 'er done type. She wants to see and do it all, and to the best of her ability she will make repeated trips to do exactly that.
Everything.
And there's always some new attraction being added or created in tourist towns.

And after she has done enough, whatever that is to her, she SHARES it. With everyone she can.
With me.

Having been there with her, and done all that, I now want to go back.
Go back at my own pace.

We went to Niagara Falls, straight up the interstate. zoom, zoom -- at times chug-chug, depending on traffic -- and there we were. Went home the same way. Drove by Cleveland; only had glimpses of Lake Erie. I was disappointed at that, but not heartbroken. I agree whole-heartedly with avoiding cities while driving.

Now, I would like to do that trip again.
But, forget the expressway. I'll meander up 62, drive through rural Pennsylvania. Especially this time of year, with the fall colors coming on, and the rain keeping the air freshened.
I would stop and eat at the small town diners.
I would shop at the small town craft stores.
I would look,look, look, and I would listen.

As for the Smoky Mountains, I definitely want to explore more than Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge.
I want to go to Greenbriar.
I want to walk the trails and for me a two hour hike in would probably take about five hours. And then I'd take six to get back out!

One of the hikes I'd like to take is in the Gatlinburg area, I want to go to the grotto. I want to get out at multiple places along the roaring fork trail. Get out and wander and absorb the special air and nature combo that makes the smoke of the smoky mountains. If you haven't been there -- haven't let the great outdoors caress your skin and kiss your cheeks -- then you don't know -- can't know -- the feeling it gives.

At the same time I wouldn't mind going other places with her, letting her lead the way. Make the introduction, perhaps.

I sometimes think of presenting her with a list of places I'd like to go but that seems awfully demanding and presumptuous. Good thing my budget isn't allowing me to behave like that. I wouldn't like it.

Traveling is something we can share.
We may have different styles when it gets down to basics, but we have interests in the same places, many of the same things (sights and sounds).

After all these years, it's good to share.
And be shared with.