The headline is I have covid. None of my symptoms have been unmanageable. I, of course, have had every available shot. Not counting the tranquilizer darts at work, the ones they hit me with when I’m overactive. I would like to say I’ve been taking it easy. But that’s not the case. One of my memories on social media this morning is of me standing in the mirror, taking a picture of my huge scar a year ago. One of my principal complaints, other than being alive still, was that I couldn’t take long walks because of the surgery. Unfortunately, my scar has faded. I don’t ever imagine that I’ll forget the anxiety of waiting for my bowels to start working again. It’s one of those things that’s hard to explain to someone who’s never experienced it.
I woke up this morning around 1:00 and decided that today would be the day for an ultra-long walk. It’s been glorious. With no plan in mind, I set out walking, having decided I would walk until I couldn’t anymore. Even if that required an Uber to get back. It’s been a while since I’ve done that. The days are blazing hot, but the mornings are always filled with a light breeze and the dead quiet of early morning Fayetteville. This city is an entirely different place once all the bustle dies down.
Yesterday morning during a decently long walk, two young people came into my sphere. Against my better judgment, I intervened right on the street on Sycamore. A domestic dispute and a baby were involved. I bluffed the young man involved. He seemed to listen to me. But I thought about them on and off the rest of the day. Lord, to be that young again when everything seems to be a life-or-death situation!
After a few miles, I crested the interstate. I stopped only for a minute to watch the scattered vehicles pass under me. It’s a little bit zen to do that at 3:00 in the morning. That was a handful of miles back, and it already seems like yesterday.
I walked along the road that leads to Mount Comfort, remembering the scarcity of that stretch just a few short years ago. At the outset of the walk, I listened to music, but after a couple of dozen songs, I pulled off my headphones and let the night sounds be my melody.
Recently I got the great news that perhaps my dead cousin Jimmy might have a daughter he never knew about. The possibility makes me happy. Both for the daughter in question and the memory of Jimmy. He would have been over the moon to find out he had a daughter. I can’t help but overlap the memories in my mind, remembering the feeling of finding out I had a sister I never knew about for 45 years. It’s just biology, of course. Family is mostly who we choose. I would love to have all the people who died sit with me in a room with food, coffee, and probably a few shots of whiskey. I shared my massive family tree with the potential daughter. I try to imagine what it would be like to go online and see a full history of a family you never knew you had. Just like I try to imagine my cousin Jimmy laughing in that special way he did when something tickled the crap out of him.
I can almost hear it here in the darkness.
The long straight stretch of Deane Street was deceptive. After crossing under the interstate and traversing the 90° turn, I could see the lights far ahead of me at Garland, and they seemed to be closer than they were. It’s a beautiful stretch of road in the darkness. The small lazy crescent moon, the aura of city lights along the cusps of the horizon, and the ear-shattering chirp of September insects. It’s somewhere around 1.5 miles along that straight stretch. That surprised me. Distance, like memory, is deceptive.
I think I will remember this morning for years to come. I hope it won’t be my last ultra-long walk. But I don’t take my stamina for granted anymore. All of us stand as witnesses to people being surprised by the mechanics of their bodies failing.
Regardless, I will have the memory. And that’s what life is mostly about, stripped away of the exciting intervals.
My cat Güino was unimpressed by my long walk. He demanded cat juice upon my return and then seemed to judge me for being absent for several hours.
Before: I’m not one to engage in dream recounting. This one, however, was beyond hyper-realistic. I woke up and expected to be in the world and The Event precisely as I dreamt it. I sat down shortly after waking up and wrote it feverishly, without edit.
I derived the title after hearing Justice Carradine singing “How It Ends.” The melodic syncopation strikes a literal chord in my head and heart.
Here’s the story, unchanged from when I sat and wrote it… . . .
I’m not sure why I’m writing this. You were there the day it happened. That Tuesday started like any other. We all started our day drinking coffee, working, or taking care of our kids. At 10:03, everything changed forever. The news started trickling in that navigation systems were malfunctioning. Planes scrambled to make emergency landings all over the world. Scientists believed that the sun emitted a massive electromagnetic flare that interrupted communications. The military went to DEFCON 1. Every talking head with an opinion emerged from their lairs to spout a theory.
By noon, most major communication networks, except the rudimentary ones, failed. No internet, no radio, no cellphones. Covid had amplified the paranoia of so many. Even the worst conspiracists felt like something significant was happening. No one could explain it, though.
Fifteen minutes later, vehicles stopped working.
We didn’t know at the time that all these things transpired to keep us safe.
At 12:46 p.m., an odd feeling of fatigue washed over me. I sat down on the floor at work. Within a minute, I was almost catatonic. Flickers of indistinct images began to fill my head. Galaxies, models of atoms, time-shifting rainbows of complicated mathematic formulas. It didn’t alarm me. I felt peaceful. This was followed by a voice in my head, a melodic androgynous voice, lulling me into calm.
“We’ve done this a million times. Don’t be afraid. We have perfected our first contact. You’re safe, all eight billion of you. It’s time you joined us if you wish. You will experience a flood of images and information. After which, the choice is yours.”
The images were dozens a second. Yet, I felt my brain envelop them without effort—exotic planets, technology, art, languages that required no voice, faster-than-light travel. Finally, images of alien races, some of which no longer required bodies. I’m not sure how long this really lasted. Some people later said it only lasted a few seconds.
At 12:50 p.m., I woke up, my legs crossed on the floor. I felt full of energy and enthusiasm. I did not doubt that an unseen alien presence offered us a gift, forever telling us that we weren’t alone in the universe.
All communications were restored. Vehicles and navigation systems worked perfectly again. My co-workers joined me in the upstairs conference room to watch the network news channels scramble to explain what every living human had just experienced coherently. It was chaos.
We all held our breath, assuming that whatever had just contacted us would do so immediately. It didn’t, though. You were there.
Within minutes, several world powers began to threaten military action against one another. We watched as Russia and China fired nuclear ballistic missiles. The United States launched almost all of its missiles in response. The news host shouted in disbelief, warning us to take cover. “From what?” we all whispered. We were in shock. Most of us felt as if we’d just experienced a whisper of the meaning of life. Seeing our militaries respond in a way that might end all of our lives didn’t feel real.
We waited. Nothing happened. None of these missiles exploded or made contact. It was as if they had disappeared. News reports came in that the missiles went off the radar—all of them. Most countries began firing any available hardware they had remaining. None exploded.
Within two minutes, the President of the United States pre-empted the news channel. Joe Biden was obviously inside a bunker below the White House.
He immediately began to speak.
“We don’t know what has happened. All of our defense systems are down. You must prepare for further attack. Effective immediately, martial law is being declared.” As he cleared his throat, the monitor went blank.
A blue square filled the screen.
Words began to cycle across it in large indistinct letters.
It started with the word “No,” in multiple languages.
Images of entire fields of corn and oats and clear streams filled the monitor. They were followed by the same photos with towering alien structures behind them. We somehow knew that those same images had been transmitted to us while we were almost catatonic. Those structures were solar and wind generators, desalinators, and communication hubs.
“You failed the first phase,” the monitor said, again in multiple languages.
“We assume control of all threats against one another for the entire planet. No military can harm another. Any country trespassing its borders will be rendered incapable of action. We wish you could have figured this out for yourselves in the last hundred years. Humanity is a collective. Life will never be the same as you know it. We mean you no harm. We are not gods. We were once like you. We owe our origins to a common ancestor. Please go about your lives without fear.”
The screen went blue and then returned to the President. He was standing slack-jawed and in shock.
The screen went dark.
I stood with a dozen co-workers, trying to grasp what had just happened. It felt like God had finally intervened in our lives.
When the network news channel returned, it was chaos. Nothing similar had ever happened. The younger news anchor motioned for the camera to focus on him, and he began to speak.
“I don’t know what each of you experienced this morning. I feel like the meaning and purpose of life were just handed to me. I’m glad that whatever is doing this took control of the world’s military forces. We can’t trust people with power to make good choices. I ask that each of you take a moment and wonder if the future we glimpsed is worthy and attainable. For the first time, we don’t have control. I don’t think we ever did, frankly. Be calm if you can, and take a minute to hug and talk to the people around you. If you…”
The station cut to a digestive health commercial.
We turned to one another in the conference room and hugged one another. It was eerily silent except for the blare of the monitor on the wall.
“We have to go back to work. That hasn’t changed.” I don’t know who said it, but his voice propelled us to walk out and quietly back downstairs to our department. Nothing seemed important. Oddly, everything seemed monumental. You were there and might understand what I mean. The minutes and hours passed in a blur.
By the time I finished work, people were coming out of their shock. Almost all the major churches in the world were reacting to the morning. The Vatican issued a statement indicating that whatever was communicated this morning wasn’t godly and that such interpretation violated the church’s canons. Most of us felt like it had been, though. Whatever it was that had talked to us individually in our heads felt like a universal presence. Church attendance increased dramatically in the first week. By the second week, it dropped constantly. Within a month, it had fallen to less than 10% of what it had been before The Event.
In the following weeks, there was no more overt communication from whatever had contacted us. Reports began trickling in of scientists, engineers, botanists, and doctors having sudden breakthroughs in their fields. An engineer from NASA figured out a way to increase solar energy generation by using living organisms as a living battery. The same batteries could power vehicles and homes with no emissions and harmful byproducts. A doctor in Mexico City researching viruses discovered that most cancers were caused by previously undetected DNA structures hidden inside cells. A graduate student in Oregon invented a desalination system using no outside energy, which returned the extracted salt to the ocean without affecting the environment. Linguists in Japan wrote an AI that could learn and translate any known spoken or written language to any other almost in real-time.
World governments continued to bicker and argue over laws and resolutions. Canada proposed a new direct democratic system that required no governmental body, using a new AI that allowed every citizen to formulate ideas and submit them. China and Russia attempted to invade several countries. All involved equipment became inoperable.
One morning, I realized I was only sleeping about two hours a night. Many of us gradually began to sleep less, thinking it only affected us. We found ourselves with more free time and energy. Most of us read more, exercised more, and spent more time with friends and family. Though the world seemed to be in turmoil, the truth is that most of us were slowly becoming happier and at peace.
Unfinished… because something stirred me into wakefulness.
I’ve written a few clever things about the folly of mocking other people’s hobbies or interests. This is not another clever take.
Soap operas, sporting events, reality tv, crocheting, video games, reading, stamp collecting, or having a skeleton display in your yard two months early (excluding serial killers). Putting up a Xmas tree in July. All of these are stupid to some people. It’s likely you love doing something that makes others roll their eyes. I know one woman who is so weird that she attends Billy Idol concerts. On purpose. (I put the last joke in for John K.)
The same is true about complaining about each holiday appearing early at retailers. It’s shocking news, I know, but they wouldn’t do it if sales didn’t justify it. We can laugh and ridicule the stores for doing so, but practically speaking, it wouldn’t happen if human behavior weren’t driving it.
If someone wants to put up Halloween decorations in September, good for them. A Xmas tree in August? Even better. It’s their life, time, and money. If you snark, we’re going to comment on your large belt buckles, commemorative plate collection, or shelves filled with what-knots or tchotchkes. (I included that last word for oddballs from Pennsylvania.)
A considerable portion of the adult population watches reality tv or sporting events. Taken from a certain context, both are equally ludicrous on a couple of levels. If you enjoy them, you don’t think so. That’s the point. We won’t vote you off the island; we might not let you on the boat, but we won’t banish you.
If you want to careen around with your cellphone and collect Pokémon, even if you are seventy years old, go for it. We’ll try not to run you over on our bicycles or cars.
If you’d rather sit on your couch and relax instead of going out and about to socialize, then do it and enjoy it.
If you want to watch grown men and millionaires throw inflated balls around while wearing absurdly tight pants, please do. I mean, it seems perfectly normal if millions of people do it, right? We don’t question your time or masculinity. Not to your face, at least.
Xmas trees in the fall are normal. So are Halloween decorations two months early. Valentine’s candy in January? You bet. Nothing says “love” like diabetes-inducing sugary treats. Except, of course, for doing the dishes without giving an Emmy-worthy “Did you notice?” performance afterward.
Get excited about whatever you enjoy and enjoy those things without guilt.
The next guy is just as full of crap as you are.
We can revel in that.
Just please stop complaining about seasonal merchandise appearing early in stores. It’s not going to lessen or abate in your lifetime.
Just like you can’t drive in traffic without BEING traffic, you can’t participate in capitalism without contributing your own version of “Xmas in July” at your favorite store.
It is possible that one death prevented another catastrophe.
It woke me up to the fact that other people would be devasted by more loss.
I don’t know what another two weeks might have brought.
Whether a fortuitous accident, fate, or simple happenstance, the universe rolled in my favor this time.
It’s been almost a year since my emergency surgery.
Thereafter, I committed to a ‘reset’ project. I failed at that on a couple of levels. I’ve kept the weight off and stayed active. My failures were personal.
The funk I experienced not so long ago wasn’t that much more profound than others I’d temporarily passed through. It was like a mile-long curtain of beads hanging from a doorway I was attempting to go through. I did, however, get wrapped in those beads, ones which got heavier the further from their source I traveled. The feedback loops in my head trapped me there. My feet were moving step by step, but no motion propelled me.
It’s a dangerous place to be.
I understand it much better now.
Being humbled does that to you. Having to look at yourself harshly is never a comforting experience.
Our egos have a way of whispering with too much bravado.
Someone in my circle recently suffered a profound loss, one which will forever demarcate her life into the before and after.
I don’t want to be a part of anyone’s loss or regrets.
The curtained beads are behind me again. I hope I retain the lesson, though. I always hate that I forget the primitive lesson of loss I learned in 2007.
No matter what happens, you have to “Get busy living or get busy trying,” something I originally was going to add to this post.
I woke up this morning with so much energy that I could feel it radiating off of me. I hope that energy converts to motivation and enthusiasm. Without those, life is a series of responses to the world around us.
I chose the picture for this post because it’s one I took a year ago when I was just happy to be outside feeling the sun on my face. That was enough – just literally standing outside in a foreign place, surrounded by trees and distant people in the periphery. Gurus have maintained for centuries that simplicity is one of the components of happiness. I’m not sure any of those gurus had to live life in this modern world.
Yesterday, I wrote about a couple of ways to save money on one’s phone bill or internet – and that one of those opportunities also led me to get a nice desktop setup for just $20.
Delivery company __ attempted to deliver my computer on Sunday. That was weird enough. In order to avoid another misdelivery or return, I paid $5.55 to have a specific delivery window for Monday from 5 p.m – 8 p.m. I’ve got a couple of shenanigans stories about deliveries here at the apartments for another day.
When I came back to my apartment simplex at 4:30, the delivery driver was parked backward, facing the parking lot. I walked up and asked, “You aren’t by chance delivering to apartment 10/X?” He smiled. “Yes, I am.” After showing him my ID, he, of course, asked, “Where is your name on the license?” I replied in the way I always do, with a smile: “It’s the same place as every other license in the state. My first name is X.” He laughed. “Yes, that does make sense!” Just because we were bantering, I pointed to my balcony and said, “See? There’s even a 30-inch X right there to prove it’s me.”
“I’ll go ahead and take the computer package now if you’d like so you can be on your way.”
The driver smiled and said that would be great.
He called his supervisor.
The supervisor surprisingly told him, “Even though the customer is there and has IDed himself, you can’t deliver or give him the package until 5 p.m. as indicated by the order window. You have to sit and wait in the truck until then.”
I could see the look of incredulity on the driver’s face as he listened. “I have to wait here in the truck until 5.”
In the interim, I chatted to the downstairs neighbors about ways to save money and that I’d received a computer for just $20. I also offered to fix two of their older computers for free. I seem to find myself always preaching at people about having computers, phones, or tablets sitting in closets or allegedly broken. I can repurpose anything. Stuff is meant to be used or donated to places like Free Geek. The recycling and repurposing center is about two blocks from where I live, and they do fantastic work.
At 5 p.m., the young male driver came up to the apartment with a large box.
“I’m so sorry you had to wait for no reason,” I said.
“Thank you so much for saying so. It’s not your fault,” he replied, sitting the package on my landing.
He hesitated. I knew he was about to say something important.
“Yeah, I have an accounting degree. I think it’s time I put that to use and stop enduring this job. I appreciated the position at first, but I’m definitely wasting my time.” He sighed.
“I told the neighbors that I was sure you were paid a salary or by the day instead of the by the hour and what your boss had told you.” I waited for him to reply.
“Yes, I get paid $140 gross a day, even though I work an insane number of hours a day. The faster I work, the more they add on top of my routes. There are days when I net less than $7 an hour working this way.”
Though I wasn’t surprised, I was taken aback.
“I’m so sorry. I do hope you reach out and take a job that not only pays you more but lets you work in the field you choose. I work at the hospital and have a great wage and benefits if you’re ever interested. ” I shook his hand.
I was very happy to get such a nice, low-cost computer. But I was also irritated that such a large company making so much profit put its drivers in a position to spend most of their waking lives working that way.
Though the policy that led the driver to waste his own time and wait 30 minutes might have a logical basis, the practicality of such a policy leads me to believe that is simply stupid. Such policies always impact the human beings who are giving their time to help companies make record profits.
I pulled into the inconvenience store to gas up the car. It seems to need it every once in awhile.
At one of the businesses nearby, I saw a man taking photos of a really nice deep blue sports car. I don’t know if it was a Jaguar, Toyota Celica, or what because I stink at identifying cars.
After filling the tank, I walked as close as I dared and took my shirt off and started waving it above my head. After a few pictures, the young guy taking the pictures noticed me in the background and realized I was probably in the shots.
I don’t know whether he was about to admonish me or not, so I preempted him my laughing and waving as I walked away.
Yes I put my shirt on.
There’s no need to torture innocent bystanders with my amazing good looks.
“We are very good lawyers for our own mistakes, but even better judges for the mistakes of others.”
One of the hardest things as a human is to swallow the urge to correct people who have misconceptions about you. We all come to our own conclusions, draw inferences, and make assumptions about other people, ones which are based on our own observations and intuition. No matter how carefully you talk, behave, or think, people will fiercely defend the conclusions they’ve come to. At times, they are simple misconceptions. Others? They are villainous views, ones that hit you at the core. No matter what led you to act or talk in a certain way, it’s a certainty that you’re going to be misunderstood. No matter your defense, your arguments, or your intentions, you’re going to have to develop the ability just to let it go.
All of this is why so many memes, reels, and TikToks exist to remind us that we must do our best to swallow the drive to correct people’s erroneous assumptions. Those assumptions belong to them rather than us. That doesn’t mean they are always wrong. Each of us gets blind to our stupidity or can’t find a way to accept how we’ve behaved. If you jump out of a tree, you’re going to have to land whether you’re prepared for it or not. You might not remember climbing the tree or why you did it, but you’re going to have to prepare to hit the ground.
It’s hard enough for me to live my life and with myself and thoughts without fighting intrusions from people who have written a different narrative. It’s doubly troubling when I’ve made mistakes that weren’t ill-intentioned or nefarious yet get filtered that way. Complicated situations and emotions become reduced to black-and-white decisions. I wish life were that simple or that I had the constancy of purpose and drive to avoid them.
Looking around, I see that most people are rowing in the same boat. If we’re rowing in the same direction, it’s folly to use our oars to pummel one another.
