About the Blue Angel flyover

I've seen a couple of Blue Angels shows in my life and found them utterly thrilling.

But.

I'm concerned that we as a country can't seem to honor hospital workers without resorting to displays of militarism. It's supposed to look strong. But it seems like it is probably a weakness.

The toxic masculinity of GOP elites

C'mon, man.

I'll wager Trump and Pence don't wear masks because they see sickness -- and concessions to it -- as weakness. That's macho strutting at its most foolish. But it's also par for the course.

A Biden versus Trump debate will get very ugly

I'm reading this Peter Beinart piece about the sex assault allegations against Joe Biden -- I'm neutral on whether they're true, but think the utmost effort should be made to try to find out if they're true -- and a thought occurs:

If there is a presidential debate between Joe Biden and Donald Trump, it will probably end up with fierce, ugly dueling accusations of sexual assault between the two. 

Greatest country in the world.

Coronavirus Cinema: TOOTSIE

Three thoughts about TOOTSIE, coming up after the trailer:

* TOOTSIE is a fantasy about a bunch of New Yorkers who act like they've never seen a drag queen before.

* Sydney Pollack is one of our great directors, and you can see his command of craft here. One example: We do get a montage of Michael Dorsey's transformation into Dorothy Michaels - but not until we've already met Dorothy. Pollack is confident enough that we have Michael in one scene, cut to the next with Dorothy, and he knows the audience can follow along without a big buildup. You don't see that often.

* That said, I saw this in the theater in 1982. It was the first rom-com type movie where I was confused at the end. Dustin Hoffman's character had betrayed Jessica Lange thoroughly - and her father - and yet at the end both grudgingly accepted him back in their lives? I call bullshit.

 That's why they call it a fantasy, I guess.

Coronavirus Journal: Care and feeding

Our last meal at Cafe Lutecia in Philadelphia before
moving away in 2016. It was our home away from home.
I still miss it fiercely. We were going to visit this summer.
Now I wonder if we'll ever get to go back.

Today's lunch: Canned kidney beans and green chilies sauteed in olive oil (salt, pepper, chili powder, garlic powder added), served over brown rice with shredded cheddar and a healthy dash of Tabasco.

It's actually kind of tasty?

I'm not really a cook. But I watched SALT FAT ACID HEAT and the occasional YouTube cooking video. If I'd been smart, I'd have thrown in a piece of bacon. Next time, assuming there's still bacon in the house. Funny thing is, I'd never make that lunch for myself normally. I'd head out for something ... less healthy, in all probability.

I think I'm eating less overall. I'm curious what my blood sugar levels are going to look like at the end of this. Assuming I survive. Which I don't assume.

Coronavirus Journal: And now, a word from Czeslaw Milosz

I read this poem in the New Yorker in the early aughts -- at almost precisely the moment I was taking my leave of the church. I have tried to let it guide how I interact with people of faith since then. And I've been thinking about it lately.

These days, I have one foot in and one foot out of the church. I have always missed the community of my last congregation. I often miss the hymns. But I can't quite get myself to fully engage, either. I go back for a week or two, then disappear for months at a time. The people there still love me, oddly enough. That's God enough for me, for now.

But it's early in this crisis. They say there are no atheists in foxholes. I don't think that's actually true. I think I'm about to find out if I can survive this kind of challenge without permitting my hope to overwhelm my head. I honestly don't know. And I'm not sure that it matters. We're all about to experience PTSD -- the lucky ones among us, that is. Whatever gets us through, right?

Other notes:

* We were going to be frugal in the face of the pandemic, but really: We don't spend near as much money if we don't leave the house. We're spending a bit more on groceries, and a whole lot less on everything else. Of course, that's what's contributing to the collapse of the economy, but it's still the right thing for us to do.

Coronavirus Journal: Routines amidst despair

Cello practices continue. Today, in the garage, to the fresh air.

I've been working from home for nearly four years now, and I've never been terribly great at establishing a routine.

I'm great at meeting work deadlines. But other things -- getting out of the house, going to the gym -- I've been hit-or-miss. I always mean to get a little bit better ... tomorrow.

Now we're all at home almost all of the time, and a few routines would probably be good. For my health. My mental health. For my son and wife. Right now, though, I'm doing a worse-than-usual job.

Mostly, I can do my assigned work. And other than that, I've been spending hours each day watching social media, watching the tragedy unfold slowly and in real time.

I haven't read much, despite buying some new books. I haven't walked outside much at all. Mostly, it all takes energy devoted to witnessing the world break down. I am sleeping more deeply now than I have in years, and it takes a real fight to get awake in the morning.

But I'm trying to fight my tendency to go into a ball. For the sake of my son. For the sake of my wife.

So I've got one routine established. I'm playing one game of chess with my son each day.

Yesterday, he beat me for the first time ever. It made me happy. Life goes on.

I hope.

For more from the Coronavirus Journal, click here.