Sunday was the first real harbinger of a Vineyard spring, the temperature climbed into the 50s, sky a cloudless blue, people on the streets, walking, wandering, everyone in a good mood, treasuring an extraordinary February day.
It is Beethoven’s 250th birthday; he and Chopin have been playing on my Echo, soothing in a time of chaos.
It has been a time of being island cozy, glad to be away from the mayhem out in the world. It is a thought often crossing my mind as I move around the island; what is going on out in the world is truly discomforting.
The primaries are in full swing. Biden, who arguably should be the front runner, is not, looking to be soon marginalized. Pete Buttigieg, a gay man, is getting serious attention. Like gay marriage, I didn’t think this would happen in my lifetime and it is. I just wish he had ten more years of experience.
President Trump is, post acquittal, unleashed, none of it pretty. Petty, yes.
He is livid about so many things, I have lost count.
It is my fear this president finds the presidency intoxicating and addictive.
Mr. Trump is now in India, being treated to the kind of rallies he so likes, big ones, full of adoration, pumping up his ego. At his side is Modi, India’s Prime Minister, seemingly determined to turn his country into a nationalist Hindu state. My Hindu friends in India are appalled.
The Russians are back! Supposedly helping Trump and Bernie. Makes sense. If all we hear is true, they want Trump and Bernie is the weakest to defeat him. Unless there is a turn of the screw…
We have coronavirus, unleashing itself upon the world, taking its toll. Italy has spiked in cases as has Iran. A series of bad decisions made the Diamond Princess a cluster of the disease, largest outside of China for a time. That honor now is South Korea’s. The world economy is affected. And a kind of panic is setting in. Even here.
At church today, at the Peace, the man in front of me, used the namaste gesture rather than shake hands. It surprised me though I understood when I thought about it.
At Stop & Shop, the lady behind me in the checkout line began talking about an island couple who had been on the Westerdam, a ship quarantined, outraged they were allowed back on the island.
As this whole thing is, it is confusing. The woman who tested positive on the Westerdam has now tested negative and the island couple is self-quarantining for two weeks after already being quarantined for two.
In her fear, I saw how it swirls, gets the better of us; I was a bit frightened of her as she swirled toward the irrational.
I am frightened by the coronavirus, Covid-19. We don’t quite know what we’re dealing with. Italy has a surprising number of cases. Iran, too. South Korea is over 1000. Nearly 90,000 are sickened, near 3,000 dead. It may become pandemic, like influenza in 1918.
As it mushrooms, markets are tumbling. The Bologna Children’s Book Conference has been cancelled as well as Venice’s Carnival. Brazil announced its first case.
Monday was a day to be thoughtful about many things, not just potential pandemic.
Kobe Bryant and his daughter were memorialized in Los Angeles at the Staples Center, often referred to as the house Kobe built. Katherine Johnson, the real-life central figure in “Hidden Figures” died at 101, a life well lived, one I am glad I found out about. As did B. Smith, African American lifestyle guru, to early onset Alzheimer’s, 70.
In Syria there is a humanitarian crisis of Biblical proportions with nearly a million refugees. In Greece, refugees beg for bread; while just miles away tourists consume grilled octopus.
What to do with all of this is overwhelming. It would be easy to turn off even more of the information founts, retreat into the island, and I am tempted. It is too easy and not, at the end, a reflection of the best me. But what is it I should do? Or, rather what should we do?
Letter from the Vineyard 
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