The Newell Post

Is it possible to have both cabin fever and agoraphobia? Can I be bouncing off the walls because I have been inside the house too long while at the same time afraid of going outside?

Then, of course, there’s germaphobia. How many times can a person wash their hands in one day? In between washings, I will look up to see if the Guinness people have any statistics.

I almost went outside today.

I had to go to the bank, and as I was backing out of my driveway when I got a good look at myself in the rearview mirror. I was wearing a makeshift mask that Eileen constructed out of a bandana.

I stared into the mirror and went back into the driveway.

I had the thought that going into a bank wearing a mask might not be the wisest thing to do, given the stress and anxiety the bankers must be feeling.

Well, do your best to keep a positive outlook.

Be well.

Stay safe.

Last night Eileen and I were listening to Garth Brooks sing while we were in bed. Well, Eileen was really listening, and I was dozing until he sang American Pie.

That song brought me back to February 3rd. That’s my daughter Jeannine’s birthday and every year, I post the same blog, “A Long Long Time Ago.”

It recounts the Day The Music Died that Don McLean wrote about in American Pie. It was the day, February 3, 1959, when Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and The Big Bopper died in a plane crash.

In my blog, I fast forward to the same day in 1984 when Jeannine was born.

I thought about her birthday this year when the Coronavirus was something that didn’t concern us when, of course, it should have.

But, getting back to Garth Brooks.

Listening to him sing so beautifully and joyfully, I thought back to a summer day in 1997 when I was working for the Mount Sinai School of Medicine. Due to the Long Island Rail Road, I was taking the west side subway up to 96th Street and walking to Mount Sinai on Fifth Avenue through Central Park.

Garth Brooks was scheduled to give a  concert in the park, and a stage was being erected right near the Fifth Avenue entrance on 96th Street. A day or two before the event, hundreds of people were starting to camp out. It was like a country version of Woodstock.

I struck up a conversation with a few of the people and asked what all the excitement was. They evidently loved Garth Brooks and traveled from all points of the midwest and west to see him in NYC. They got me excited too, and when the concert was aired on television, I enjoyed watching it as did Eileen.

I am writing about this now because, in the very area of Central Park where Garth Brooks regaled us with People In High Places back in 1997, a make-shift hospital has been erected to tend to the overflow of patients from Mt. Sinai.

Nobody in high places ever predicted that would be required.

But listening to Garth last night instead of joy, I felt intense anger and was blogging in my head about all that had not been done to protect my city ( I may live in Florida, but I remain a New Yorker) and the country.

But today is Palm Sunday, and my roots have revealed another emotion.

Peace is required, and love is demanded to get through these days.

It’s not enough to pray in silence, we are required to live our prayers.

As Peter Pan instructed the Darling children to get them to fly, we must think happy thoughts.

Without happiness and joy in our hearts, we will be stuck in the mud of despair.

Listen to Garth Brooks today (and possibly tonight in a country virtual concert) and smile.

Back when I was studying history, I was interested in the idea of technology and culture. It was stated that our relation with and reaction to technology was both ambivalent and ambiguous.

I remember reading several dystopian novels and citing movies from the early 50s that demonstrated these concepts. You only had to watch Godzilla and Rodan to know that Japanese filmmakers were making their statements against nuclear technology.

Who could blame them?

Even more recently, many of my generation decry the obsession that young people have with their smartphone and video games. Ironically we share this observation in texts and posts and tweets.

The truth is my relation to technology has evolved as recent events have enlightened me in my moment of solitude in Bradenton.

Whether it is with friends down here five or ten miles away or family hundreds or a thousand miles away, technology is helping me stay connected that would have been impossible back when I was studying history.

My appreciation of technology is no longer ambivalent or ambiguous.

Technology is keeping me sane in a crazy world.

In addition to keeping in touch with my children via phone, we text numerous times during the day. It’s kind of a long-distance pulse-taking. We also use Zoom Meeting to have a video chat where we not only can communicate but we can see each other. The smiles of my children are all that is needed by Eileen and me to assure us that they are well.

Then, yesterday evening another Zoom Meeting was held between my friends who were former co-workers at one of the colleges where I served and me. Although it is like looking at an old Hollywood Squares TV show or the opening to the Brady Bunch, Zoom provides the closeness that is hard to replicate in a phone call or text or post.

Technology is keeping me sane in a crazy world.

I never would have thought that back in the 70s.

Not only is technology keeping me sane, but it is also going to provide the cure that we so desperately need to kill this damn virus.

Technology will save our lives. And no ambivalence or ambiguity can survive that.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been 52 years since my last confession.

These are my sins:

Three weeks ago, I was at Costco and did not buy toilet paper. I thought I had plenty.

I told my wife that Dr. Fauci recommended three shots of Jameson to ward off the Coronavirus.

I told my wife that Dr. Fauci also recommended that she sleep in the guest room in compliance with social distancing guidelines.

I inadvertently touched my face many times, including a scratch (NO PICK) or two of my nose.

I have a secret stash of hand sanitizer and antibacterial wipes.

I only washed my hands seventy-five times yesterday.

I am now ready to make a good Act of Contrition, but I have to confess that I need a little help with that.

Amen

Today marks the ninth anniversary of the passing of our dear friend, Vinny (AKA Father) Gorman.

Vinnie was one of our parish priests back in Blessed Sacrament in the Bronx. He, along with Father Dolan, would take us to the beach and other places to get us off the streets of the Bronx.

Later in life, we had the pleasure of taking Vinny and Maryann to the beach.

( A side note here. It was during this time that Vinny exhibited many symptoms of OCD. His obsession was getting a resident’s beach pass so that he could come and go even when we weren’t there. I don’t think it was the money as much as the thrill of the hunt. He lay in the high grass waiting for just the right teenager to take over the ticket booth, and then he would pounce. He never failed to get a pass.)

We used to kid Vinny and Maryann that they always seemed to magically appear at our doorstep when we were sitting down to Saturday breakfast, we said they could smell the bacon and made a dash.

One of the first times that we saw Vinny after so many years and long after he was at Blessed Sacrament, he and Maryann came out to see Aunt Mary, and they came over to our house. One thing you have to understand about Vinny, he was always smiling. When he wasn’t smiling he was, belly-laughing. You never could keep a straight face with him in the room.

During that first visit, I kept rehashing my Blessed Sacrament experience, which of course included, his. In the eighth grade Vinnie would come to our class once a week to teach religion. He always reminded us that there would one day be a test.

Sometime in the winter of 1964, we were given the test. Vinny called it his “Nutty Ned Test.” When I started reminding Vinny about it, he glowed and smiled like I had never seen anyone react before. I also reminded him of his challenge. He said that the student who had the highest mark would win $5. Then he added, almost in mocking sort of way, that if anyone had managed to get a 100, they would get $10.

Well, I did get the only 100 in the school, but Vinny reneged on his promise and gave me $5, and then he gave another student, let’s call her Mabel, another $5. I told him this was bull shit and wanted my additional $5 with interest.

Well, that only made him laugh more. But I was going to do something that would almost make him swoon right there in our living room.

I gave him my copy of the test.

He couldn’t believe it. I think it was a statement of the impact on our lives that he had. Why would anyone keep such a test? To me, it was a relic of a marvelous time with marvelous people. I think Vinny felt that too.

I didn’t hesitate and said he could keep the test, and I really believe that was the nicest thing I ever did for Vinny.

My kindness was repaid in so many ways. It wasn’t just the joy that he brought into our home every time he arrived. He was also a welcome sight in times of trouble.

In 2010, Eileen was diagnosed with breast cancer. She told me on the Tuesday after the 4th of July weekend. The following weekend Sean and Jeannine came out, Bryan was studying in London.

The weekend was going to be stressful as Eileen had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for that Monday, where a decision as to what to do next would be made.

I was not doing well. That morning Jeannine and Eileen went to the Farmer’s Market and I had a complete meltdown listening to Jimmy Buffet sing “Come Monday.” Jeannine and Eileen came home and could not enter the house as I had locked the door. I didn’t want anyone to see me in that condition.

A few hours later, as we were sitting around the living room, Vinny and Maryann appeared. Vinny wanted to pray with us.

Ironically, Vinny had not too long before this presided over Eileen and my renewal of vows. Now he would be praying for God’s mercy for us.

Vinny asked us to close our eyes, but Eileen didn’t. She kept her open eyes on me as I was in convulsions trying not to cry out loud.

Vinny concluded the prayer, and he and Maryann said they would be going home now. I pleaded with him to stay. I might have been crying when I did so, but anyway, he and Maryann did stay and helped us get through that weekend.

His loss was devastating to all who knew and loved him.

The comfort that we can give Maryann is to let her know how big a role they have had in our lives.

They provided joy.

I don’t know about you, but just writing these few words helped restore a little joy in my life. It’s good therapy and a lesson to us all. Neither Trump nor Corona can’t take away our hope and joy.

Remember, in our catechism, we learned about the three virtues: Faith; Hope, and Charity.

Vinny would be reminding us of that now.

God Bless Vinny.

The genius of America has been its “CAN DO” attitude. When JFK challenged us to put a man on the moon by the end of the  60s, there were some who shook their head and thought he was overreaching.

But, except for the lunatic doubters (a similar group to the anti-vaxers), most believed in Kennedy’s vision.

Today, in the middle of the pandemic, we have to remember that challenge and the other challenges in our history that made our nation what it is.

We will have a vaccine or treatment for this virus.

Sadly, it will come too late for many, but it will come.

We will return to complaining about our commute or about the high cost of gasoline, and the aisles at COSTCO will be abundant in their supply of toilet paper of many different qualities and plies.

We will continue to wash our hands regularly because, really, shouldn’t we have been doing that before all this started?

We will complain about our sports teams.

We will return to attending games and concerts and seeing movies on a really big screen while eating popcorn that couldn’t possibly be good for you.

I know this sounds a little like Of Mice And Men when Lenny was promised he would see the rabbits anytime soon now but life as we knew it will return.

Till then, we have to stay inside and enjoy each other’s company.

Stay in touch with friends utilizing the technology at our disposal. Texts, emails, Facetime.

Play games with the people you are sheltering with.

Write a damn blog for crying out loud!

Go to your music library and put a Corona Playlist together.

Stream good movies and re-read a favorite book. (Time for another read of Catch 22?)

Stop watching the news after a fifteen-minute update.

Try feeling grateful and maybe say a prayer or two.

Alright, that’s all I’ve got for the moment. But I’ll be back.

Be well. Stay safe.

I must have been nine years old. We had an electrical fire in Apartment Six of 1261 Leland Avenue. Pop put out the flames with flour. There was no substantial damage except that we lost electricity.

To a kid in the 50s, the loss of electricity meant no TV, no record player, but it was no TV that was the gamechanger. But my father had the answer.

First, he had a stockpile of what he called “plumbers” candles that provided our light. Then, he went out and bought a bunch of games and prizes that provided our family entertainment for the weekend that was no longer going to be long or boring.

We played cards (Crazy Eights primarily) and bingo and Monopoly and had snacks while we played. It was a great time, and I never missed TV for the entire weekend.

In fact, when we finally got our power back on Sunday afternoon, I wasn’t at all excited and wanted to continue playing games, which we did.

On another occasion, when my family was facing another crisis, games weren’t the vehicle that brought us together. This time it was prayer.

It was October in 1962. I was now twelve years old and in the seventh grade. The crisis that faced my family was not a loss of power but a fear of the use of power.

The Soviet Union was engaged in a game of chicken with the United States. Premier Khrushchev was calling President Kennedy’s bluff.

The Soviet Union sent nuclear missiles to Cuba, and Kennedy told Kruschev to knock it off.

On the night when things were getting tense, my mother led the family in the Rosary, on our knees.

We prayed for Divine Intervention when we were facing total annihilation, and we were granted salvation.

I am not sure which story applies more to our current situation.

Perhaps both apply equally.

At a time when many of us are forced to stay inside our homes, a little fun time with our family might be just what the doctor ordered.

Then, too, a little praying wouldn’t hurt.

It would be a foul thing altogether if the Covid virus only served to sicken and kill us. Let us hope that a side effect of this dreaded virus is that we all will resolve to forget about our differences much as Covid seems to.

We are all in this together, subject to the same effects of this disease. We are all frightened because we don’t know what the endgame looks like. The one thing I think is for certain is that we will not escape its effects unchanged.

Let us hope the change is for the better.

My faith tells me it will be.

Where we all have complained about the cost of healthcare, we now worry that our healthcare providers will stay well and have what they need to cure us.

Where we have all complained about the cost of food and going out to restaurants, maybe we will grow to savor those experiences and to applaud those who provide their service to us.

Despite the call for social distancing, I never talked to so many people (at a safe distance) commenting on our plight but with a joyful tone and sharing a smile and stay safe wishes.

A reminder, social distancing can be overcome by technology. Use your phone and computer to reach out to friends, old and new. Keep in touch with family by sending those annoying texts that we all love.

Cherish the people in your life and keep washing your hands while acknowledging that you are helping them stay safe.

Peace and love were words Baby Boomers used back in the day, and we need to say that today more than ever.

Peace and Love and share the joy while you show compassion and concern.

The Great Depression changed America forever. It changed it for the better thanks to Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

The Great Depression even changed Inauguration Day. George Washington was first installed as our first President on April 30, 1789. Thereafter, Inauguration Day would be March 4th.

The last President to be inaugurated on March 4th was Franklin Delano Roosevelt, who was inaugurated for the first time on March 4, 1933.

Because the economy suffered during the time of the election in 1932 through the winter of 1933, Congress changed the date of Inauguration Day to January 20th.

When FDR was inaugurated on March 4, 1933, he uttered those fateful words: “So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is…fear itself…”.

We should remember these words and live our lives by them.

It’s easy to get overwhelmed by the increasing numbers of coronavirus victims and fatalities. How could you not after listening to the men and women of science detail the potential of this pandemic?

It’s easy to polarize into two extremes: those who doubt the evidence and believe this is no more than a common cold or flu and those who believe we are all doomed.

To me, it’s easier to remember Franklin Delano Roosevelt reassuring a terrified nation facing economic ruin by simply saying, “…the only thing we have to fear…is fear itself.”

With apologies to Paul Simon.

Where have you gone, Franklin Delano Roosevelt?

Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you>

Ok, I think I have been on Coronavirus Information Overload for a month. Well, I have been a moderate germaphobe but not OCD about it. When the flood of information started overwhelming us, we were given some guidelines.

Basically, the bulk of our population would be able to weather this outbreak without fear or worry. It is very contagious but does not to be life-threatening to most people.

However, there are some who are at high risk and should avoid anyone who has contracted the virus.

The high-risk groups are: the elderly (Check); people who have a chronic medical condition including cancer (Check); and people with a compromised immune system (Check). The trifecta.

In the immortal words of Alfred E. Neuman, “What… me worry?”

Here are some helpful and healthful hints that I have included in my Coronavirus survival strategy.

I only watch the news for two or three five minute updates.

I ignore posts on Facebook and Twitter that are not helpful to my psyche.

I read the newspaper but spend more time doing the crossword puzzle.

I listen to the mass at St. Patrick’s on SiriusXM radio.

Quite honestly, that is as much as I can accomplish because the rest of the time I am washing my hands.

Look, I am doing my best, as I am sure you are to get through this, but I really do believe a positive attitude is the best vaccine that we can administer. Getting bummed out and worrying about all the uncertainties about this disease will serve no useful purpose.

When I was going through chemo in 2000, and again in 2007, I tried to be positive and laughed, and watched West Wing and Yankee baseball and downplayed the ordeal, I was going through. Of course. I could have been in denial, and I know my family and friends were not fooled by my reaction.

Nevertheless, I did survive.

I am confident that I will survive this too.

And I pray to God that all of you and all of my loved ones will be here with me.