Strange summer of 2020

Poppies and purple flowers

Yes, the flowers are beautiful, as they always are, but this is turning out to be the strangest summer season since I moved to the Pacific Northwest. It's beginning to seem like I might not actually make it to the High Country this year because of the pandemic, along with plenty of snow still in the mountains. Our inability to carpool to drive for an hour together means that those of us with old cars that don't like rutted mountain access roads are unable to get there.

My gym is still closed, and it looks like it will remain so for the foreseeable future, since we are having a spike in coronavirus cases, along with much of the rest of the country. Washington State now requires us to wear a mask or face covering of some kind whenever we leave our homes, unless we are able to maintain physical distance from others. It's beginning to feel like this situation will only get worse before it gets better.

I really didn't want to write about what's going on in our country, because I think most of us already know, and discussing the dire situation isn't helping anybody. But it's all that is on my mind these days. I watch the news with trepidation, learning how politicized the entire virus response has become, and I fear for our future. Between those who believe it's traitorous to wear a mask and those who consider them essential, the huge gap is only growing wider. And the virus doesn't care at all; it just continues to spread. I am more than a little terrified.

It looks like the European Union will block Americans from traveling to their countries once they open up to international travel next week. Who would have thought that we would be in such a situation? Not that it seems like a very good idea these days to get on an airplane for long flights, or congregate in airports among strangers. The Center for Disease Control has given us the following guideline:

Avoid the three C's which are: closed spaces with poor ventilation, crowded places with many people nearby and close-contact settings, such as close-range conversations.   

I have eaten inside two restaurants since we opened up to Phase 2, but I am beginning to think that I should avoid doing so in the future. Both times I was with a friend, and the restaurants were sparsely occupied, with plenty of space between tables and well ventilated. But still, I am thinking that it's becoming important to stay away from places where I cannot better control my interactions with others.

Are you hopeful that things will get better? I am sure trying to find that place within me that believes that there are silver linings in these clouds. And we've been down before and come back stronger.

There is a saying in Tibetan, ‘Tragedy should be utilized as a source of strength.’ No matter what sort of difficulties, how painful experience is, if we lose our hope, that’s our real disaster. —14th Dalai Lama

***

I think perhaps it's time to change the subject, since I'm only making myself feel worse, not better. And that's not what I want to happen with this post, or any other for that matter. Last week I wrote about my father, and there were a few things my sister pointed out to me that she found to be curious. She never thought of Daddy as being much of a reader (I called him "an avid reader"), but that's what I remember: he taught me to appreciate science fiction, and the two of us shared books that we found interesting. He introduced me to Isaac Asimov, and I eventually read almost all the fiction he wrote. Asimov was also a prolific nonfiction writer, and I read some of that work, too. Daddy did, also. He also subscribed to Time Magazine and read it from cover to cover each week, often cursing loudly over segments he disagreed with. He often threatened to cancel his subscription, but I don't think he ever did.

Norma Jean also clarified for me that Daddy was an engineer on the B-36 bomber. It was something that I don't think I ever knew. For one thing, I didn't know that airplanes ever had engineers, so I read up about the B-36. What an airplane! It was truly an amazing feat of technology.

Early models "only" had six enormous 71-liter, 28-cylinder radial engines in a rare pusher-prop configuration. These were soon augmented by four jet engines, for a total of 44,000 horsepower, creating one of the only aircraft ever powered by both.

Well, that explains it. It was a prop plane with jet engines, too.  This article is fascinating: Six Turning, Four Burning. I guess in those days it was essential to have a crew that included engineers. Each 15-man crew had someone like my dad aboard. I also learned that the B-36 is the only bomber that never dropped a live bomb on a target. Anyway, I've learned quite a lot from having known so little about what my father did in his early career. Norma Jean said it was because I was only interested in boys in those days and had little interest in the rest of the world around me. She is probably right. Thank goodness that the internet gave me a chance to find out what I missed.

Hey, that worked! Having changed my focus from the present moment, I've managed to make myself feel much better. I hope that you will take the time to peruse that article about the B-36. I found it to be fascinating. Now I wish I still had my father around to ask him questions about his storied career on that plane. I'm only a half century late.

Now it's time for me to answer the call of my rumbling stomach. I realize that I'm actually a little hungry this morning. Usually I have to wait a while longer before that happens. My dear partner still sleeps next to me, and my tea is long gone. I will probably just make myself some coffee at home today, since the coffee shop holds little interest when I don't get to visit with my friends.

I do hope that you will stay safe this week, and that you will not forget to count your blessings and to give thanks for friends and family. I am so grateful for you, my dear readers, and I wish you all good things until we meet again next week.