As this second issue of our new weekly “goes to press,” it has
now been exactly five weeks since a National Emergency was
declared, and we began to exist in pandemic limbo. I’m getting
used to the rhythms of being at home, of spending all day and
all evening with Ruth, my wife of 28 years, our 12-year-old
daughter, Grace, and our mini-labradoodle, Copper.
I’ve seen no one socially, except passing neighbors on the
streets of Burns Park, for close to four weeks. My favorite new
thing is “power-walking” through Arbor Hills, a reasonably fun
and healthy substitute for the loss of my cherished swimming
routine. And each night, Grace chooses a teen romantic comedy
(PG) and we curl up together, transfixed and safe.
