profkf's Blog

The daily work routine, loading and emptying the dishwasher, doing laundry, taking the dog for a walk, washing hands, keeping a smile or a good thought, reading in the sunshine, listening to music. These, among many other things, would be considered, at best “small things”, that is to say, about 4 weeks ago would have been considered small things, done mostly without thought, sometimes (many times, in fact,) almost done with a spoonful of resentment, tasks, chores, worrying about what I don’t have, or trying to get something I “want” to have all got in the way of realizing that these simple “small” things are what, when put together, make up so very much of the joy of life and living.

While I’d love to have my own jet to never fly commercial again (although I can almost guarantee that after this current scenario it will be a very long time before I complain about airports and traffic), my beloved waterfront house in Maui, a pied-à-terre in Napa Valley and NYC, those are all things that (a) are unlikely (powerball not withstanding) well outside my reach and (b) see “a” a result of choosing a career in teaching, as opposed to the rapidly rising Wall Street job I left in 1997 after it almost gave me ulcers. These small things, these days, have given me the time and the real opportunity to think about the big things I have: Here’s a small list 

• A wife who I love, who is my best friend and partner in everything
• My health, (albeit after years of abuse thanks to some gifted surgeons both in orthopedics and bariatrics)
• Two wonderful children, both of whom have spouses who make their lives all the better
• Four granddaughters who, this has been a clear reminder of, I don’t see nearly as much as I should (“you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone” once wrote Joni Mitchell)
• A warm, comfortable, well decorated (thanks to Susan) home that while old and frequently annoying, is currently our very own fortress of solitude.
• Abbey THE dog, who never seems to be anything other than joyful and happy to be with her people (ok, she does bark at EVERYTHING and mostly at the most inopportune times but that’s the small stuff not the big stuff)
• Friends, acquaintances, students (current and former), all of whom continue to add joy to each and every day.
• Incredible memories of times spent with folks no longer with us well prior to this mess. My parents who really allowed me to find my own way, encouraged me without pressing, allowed me to make screwed up choices that I learned from (I hope anyway). Uncle Dominic P. Starace who really showed me what joie de vivre represented, and who largely shaped my future in so many ways. My maternal grandparents, both amazing cooks (my grandfather a chef by trade, my grandmother the archetypal home grown Sicilian cook) in another example of avoiding “adventure” I didn’t realize until well after he was gone how amazing his food was (but I did appreciate his slipping some of his homemade wine into my soda as a very very young man). He also was an opera fan, and while it’s only now, at 67 that I’ve begun to really listen to that, I also have the most vivid memories of Carlo Babuder singing loudly during the sunday family meal we’d almost always have together.
• Equally incredible memories of folks still plugging away. Aunt Irene (Dom’s wife) who reached out just yesterday, to check in on ME…something I should have done the other way (small things becoming big things)
• The unbridled joy of still doing what I have enjoyed doing (for the most part) for the past 44 years. Getting up each day and spending time with young folks who always demand the you put your best foot forward (even if they don’t realize they are doing that), yup, as mentioned before that choice has kinda put off the other things I’d love to have but, in the end, even if it were possible, I wouldn’t do it any other way.
• Still wanting to and being able to be active. To run, to walk, to golf, to swim, still wanting to surf again someday…..

I could keep populating the list but I’ll let it end for now, and simply fade off with a final thought. We all have people we know who are struggling in so many ways, health, money, loneliness, take a minute to think about them and how being there in some way for them will take your small things and elevate your joy from small to BIG…We will get through this and we will hug and laugh together again!!!

It is impossible to spend time away from all but the people you live with, in my case, my wife Sue and Abbey THE dog, and not spend most of that time “in your head”. I find myself listening to music, reading, getting out with Abbey when the weather permits, sitting on the back deck reading and getting sun, practicing my golf “skills” as best I can in the back yard, watching the occasional DVR’d shows (most of which have either ended or are coming to an end for the season, and will likely be well delayed returns due to the shutdowns we have all faced). I also find myself going down various rabbit holes reading about symptoms (nope don’t seem to have any), planning the very occasional jaunt to a grocery store since deliveries are hard to come by, scheduling wine or booze deliveries (easier to get than food, of course it is, after all Fairfield County, CT where you can feed a family of 8 on one chicken wing but heaven forbid you are out of Scotch).

Weekdays are filled with remote “teaching”, trying to translate something social to something in print or across a camera projection where you cannot fully read the responses or lack of from the “audience” they way it is ever so easy to do in person. That does provide a bit of distraction from living “in my head” but eventually when that has wound down for the day, all that is left is the great void of solitude frequently filled by thoughts that would never even be on the menu “normally”.

I find I’m really working through this play in three acts thus the title of this post.

Act 1: What we had:  Freedom to travel, dinners  out, get togethers with family and friends, “annoying” errands, crowded roads, busy airports, long lines at the Starbucks drive through during the morning rush, spontaneous decisions on picking up one or two items to pivot on a meal, buying one or two bottles of wine to pass an afternoon, shaking hands, hugs, in person side splitting laughter, massages, pedicures, hair cuts, hearing the alarm go off, showering and going to work…things that were seemingly small all taken for granted, at least, certainly, by me.

Act 2: What we lost: Pretty much everything listed above, anything social, any personal connection other than via audio, video or if you’re as lucky as I am, to still have that with someone you love dearly. Many have lost even more. Complete loss of employment, reduced wages for many who are still struggling to work remotely while in some sort of housebound isolation, Dangerous employment for those on the front lines, those in critical positions, and yes, that includes the folks putting themselves in danger, each day in the grocery stores, folks who people scoffed at prior to this for wanting a living wage, those same folks who are now providing your lifeline and mine to food, supplies and an ounce of sanity. We’ve lost vacations, we’ve lost weddings, we’ve lost being able to grieve in person for those who’ve passed. We’ve lost the ability to visit, in person, folks in hospitals, in nursing homes, those folks who MOST need a hug, a smiling face, companionship. We’ve lost the pulse that keeps most of us active and planning. We’ve lost sports, both participatory and observational, we’ve lost going to the movies, to a play, to a concert. Many of us have simply, in ways small or large what it means to be ourselves.

Act 3: What we’ll gain:  This is the act where we’ll find contrition, charity and yes, hope. I believe that this will, in fact, run it’s course, that sooner rather than much, much later, we will begin to regain many of the freedoms we’ve lost. We’ll see Baseball again, We will hug each other, laugh with each other, steal food from each other’s plates, clink glasses, shout “mazel tov” when someone steps on a glass at a wedding, cry real tears when we say out final goodbyes to a loved one in person. We’ll cheer for a friend who is retiring, and listen to what once seemed like endless pithy stories being told to a crowd with renewed enthusiasm. We will be contrite about things that once upon a time were little annoyances, and might even reach out to folks and apologize for having been a jerk, or having a short temper (well, not all of us, some can’t even do it leading a nation unless they are touting their own “worth”). We have already started to regain the charity of kindness, local message boards offer over and over help for those who are unable to get around or out or find things they need, one can only hope that continues into Act 3. I know I will have much greater appreciation for the simplest trip, the smallest errand. I do have a little bit of reference there. Back in 2009, I was close to 400 lbs, my hips so painful from bone on bone arthritis, that I could not stand to help with the dishes, do my own laundry or just walk out onto the back deck. Successful hip replacement surgery (thank you Dr. Mark Figgie and the fine folks at HSS-NY) and then even more successful bariatric surgery (thank you Dr. Neil Floch and the entire staff) put me”back in the game”. I now relish doing my own damn laundry, love the idea of going for a walk or a run, taking Abbey THE dog out, doing dishes and yes, even while we are sequestered, cleaning my own damn house (ok, I don’t really relish it, but I do have even more appreciation for the folks who did it once every other week and who will be back doing it again when this is all done.). The point is I know how it feels to really really appreciate things that were taken for granted, then taken away, then returned…

What we had was great, what we lost is tough to deal with, what we’ll gain is all that we had, all that we lost, and a love of life that will be undeniably stronger than before.