Cloister Commentary, Day 313: Pandemic Silver Linings Playbook

Nicole and I awakened to snow, beautiful and dangerous like human beings. Dad’s truck did pretty well without being put into four-wheel drive, and the snowfall was a calming backdrop to a few hours of work.

When I returned home, I networked with some former Hickman colleagues regarding the upcoming May scholarship in memoriam to the life and work of the only materially departed George Frissell. We have some very deserving candidates.

Dinner was smoked salmon, fresh spinach, and a baked potato. We read for a couple of hours with a Jimmy Smith soundtrack.

As promised (and it’s not that I am enjoying it or ever want to experience a repeat), here are…

The Ten Best Things About Being Isolated by the Pandemic:

We have been eating far more healthily.
Nicole and I will have been together 31 years in May. We have been in each other’s presence more in the last 313 days than we ever have, under stressful circumstances, and we feel strong. I guess the honeymoon period isn’t over yet.
Oddly, being stranded from work has made me more available to respond in-person to tragedy and need.
The virtual freshman comp class I taught for Stephens College this summer was truly one of my favorite educational experiences and I learned a few skills that will probably increase my professional lifespan.
I have been able to talk to my mom almost every morning since mid-June. I have no love for talking on the phone, but I have enjoyed that, even though we’ve had to talk through hard things.
We have been able to meditate and reflect on our days more consistently than ever.
I’m not sure a new president would have been elected with the last one’s predictably cruel and inept response to the pandemic, and I’m happy that change happened. I should have included January 6 on yesterday’s list, because that’s always going to be tempering my optimism.
Though I complained yesterday about being sucked into whirlpools of self-involved thinking, another perspective is I’ve had the quiet in which to really come to terms with realities about my self, which I think is always in flux but has some stable attributes.
In the category of domestic felines, I have improved my relationships with Goldie, BB, Cleo, Tux, Smoky, and especially Spirit. Junior and I have always seen eye to eye.
This. I have always enjoyed writing, and knocking these out every day has been good for me in many ways. When the project was suggested to me by a friend, I was skeptical and scared–I really didn’t want to do it–but (as with many things) once I got rolling, I truly took to it. Early on, after I’d already begun, the local historical society called for pandemic diaries, and I let them know what I was doing. Maybe one day these will be a primary source for a researcher trying to shed light on these times from a historical distance. In truth, I know I am unaware of much of what they really say; I just hope it’s been valuable.

Streaming for Strivers:

I’ve been DOOM-scrolling.

Cloister Commentary, Day 312: Listing Through the Day, Part 1

Yesterday really was a slowwwww news day. Other than sampling The Durrells in Corfu, reading portions of six different books, taking the recycling to the center, and going on a Beefheart binge (yes, I’m an old ‘fheart-heart), I was in a bit of what I think they call stasis. Thus, it’s list time.

The 10 Hardest Things About The Pandemic (So Far–I’m Braced 24-7):

Mourning without proper closure.
Missing friends’ handshakes and embraces.
Having to regularly confront how much I am my job (occasional self-loathing and sadness stemming from the fact that I’m not in a catalytic in-person classroom several days a week).
Trying and failing to sleep seven hours / at least five consecutively. (Bad this week.)
Sitting on my ass far more than I prefer.
Adjusting to an almost totally immutable routine (teaching is hard but always unpredictable).
Falling into a self-involved thought-whirlpool far too often for my liking.
Slipping into cynicism about human beings in general (was it Charles Schulz who quipped that he liked people, it was the human race he couldn’t stand? “You stupid a**h**e / Baby, I’m one, too!” – Angry Samoans) since the great corrector (a public school classroom) isn’t available.
Experiencing moments, even days, when I look at stacks of books and records and have no enthusiasm for plunging in.
Resisting the charms of a well-made martini or a perfectly toxic margarita.

Tomorrow: The 10 BEST (?) Things About the Pandemic.

Streaming for Strivers:

Mood these times can bring…

Cloister Commentary, Day 311: What If?

My brother called yesterday morning to tell me Mom has shoulder surgery scheduled for Monday. She sustained a tear in a wind-and-rainblown fall in November that’s gradually come to torture her, and the news that the procedure’s just around the corner was the best we’ve received lately. Also, barring an emergency between now and then, she’ll be the first surgical patient ever at Monett, Missouri’s new hospital. Not exactly the thing one longs to be known for, but hey–she’ll take it. If only COVID vaccinations came that quickly….

I’m deeply enjoying an old book I picked up used a couple years ago called What If?, in which esteemed historians look at the possibilities had major events in world history happened just a touch differently (example: what if Alexander the Great had died at 22 at the Battle of the Granicus River, as he nearly did…or what if he’d lived into middle age?). I might have ended up a history major if high school teachers had taught the subject the way these experts frequently do. I found myself wondering whether a similar entire book couldn’t be written about the past year.

We finished Season Three of Cobra Kai (the series needs to be roundhouse-kicked at this point, but a future season looms) and sampled Kim’s Convenience, which frequently drew explosive laughter from both Nicole and me. It felt a touch…broad, but perhaps my Korean-American friends can weigh in with a perspective if they’ve seen it. Also, I wonder how good the book from which it’s adapted is.

Streaming for Strivers:

Slip inside this house.

Cloister Commentary, Day 310: Dumbfounded but Standing

I catch myself looking at that number of days and what’s happened in their passing, and I’m dumbfounded we haven’t spent any of them (quite) on our knees. Not through them yet. And we’re not interested in the old normal anyhow. The thoughts you think, I tell ya.

Sunday’s bounty? Columbians, Goldie’s Bagels is the bomb. It’s in the Pizza Tree spot Tue-Sun 7-11 am, and you best bring an appetite: normal human couples could split one; we were excited about trying something new and ordered three. After finishing them and watching CBS Sunday Morning, we felt like hibernating. Nicole and I recommend their Everything Bagel with either scallion or “dilly lox” spread–we venture to say they’re the best bagels in town!

I did a Herculean amount of reading and watching football. I got all of what I needed from the former and half of what I wanted from the latter. We went on a long walk, finished those dangerous oatmeal ‘n’ cherry cookies, Zoomed with our “Flying Saucer” friendship support group–ohhhh…that’s why we stayed off our knees!–and dug John Waters learning about his dark and disturbing roots from Henry Louis Gates.

Streaming for Strivers:

Remain in light this week, ok?

Cloister Commentary, Day 309: Jazzy Indoctrination

What was occurrin’? Not much–but that’s ok.

We awakened early to hit the grocery ahead of the crowd (6ish). Indeed, it was a graveyard, though Nicole witnessed a customer haranguing a poor shelf stocker because he didn’t know where the new city trash bags. If I’d been there, I’d-a harangued her because she didn’t know where the new city trash bag contactless pick-up was. Undoubtedly, that would have inconvenienced the harridan.

One of the first student teachers I hosted was Tasha Terrell. Besides being smart and professional, she had a dry, quiet sense of humor (I was dealing with a case of labyrinthitis at the time, which she dubbed “David Bowie’s disease”–I still laugh every time I think about it). Tasha and her husband Ryan have two crumbsnatchers that they desire to be acculturated, and to that end she asked me to send her a list of jazz songs with which she could start their indoctrination. I heard/read that as “construct a streaming playlist,” so I put together a “Tiny Terrell” Jazz to 1960 compilation for them. I hadn’t been commissioned in awhile so I was like a pig in slop. Sample it for yourself; you may consider Louis Jordan a ringer, but “Beans and Cornbread” is a must for wee ones. Ornette Coleman? Really? Hey, I like to embed a few challenges–though “Lonely Woman” is sheerly beautiful.

For dinner, Nicole continued to perfectly perfect her chana masala recipe. We’re trying to cut down on the salt, but the other spices she blended in made that seem easy. After, we had tea, homemade oatmeal cherry cookies, and Cobra Kai Season 3 (again). I have to support the work of my other brother William Zabka!

Streaming for Strivers:

Gabriel go home.

Cloister Commentary, Day 308: Slow News Day–And Why NOT?

You know it was a slow news day when my highlight was driving to Cosmo Park (maybe three miles round-trip) and picking up my 2021 official city trash and recycling bags via drive-through contactless pickup. Hey–it was stimulating to actually see an incredibly efficient delivery system! I also dropped by the mulch site with some dead (tree) limbs and cranked up MF DOOM-alias Viktor Vaughn’s Vaudeville Villain 2 in the truck. Beats and rhymes: very phat.

(6) Venomous Villain – Viktor Vaughn (full album) – YouTube

My afternoon could be summed up as enjoying feeling no side effects of my procedure from the day before (don’t worry: I’m not going to describe it all) and just reading and listening to music with no immediate goals.

It was nice to see Nicole get home in one piece from a nerve-wracking first week of in-person teaching. We have been holding our connubial breath (not quite literally). The day was completed by a Cobra Kai mini-binge.

Streaming for Strivers:

My second-favorite Hank next to the senior Williams.

Cloister Commentary, Day 307: Mengele Clippers

I have been preoccupied over the last few days with the prostate biopsy I underwent yesterday. I’d had a cardiology appointment the day before that the biopsy actually overshadowed. I have some advice for those of you who may have one in the future:

1) Don’t read up on the possible after-effects. I realize this may be difficult if you’re trying to decide to assent to one–I was pretty much ordered–but they mess with one’s imagination, wake you up in the middle of the night, and make you paranoid. Besides, after the procedure they will tell you about these effects in detail anyway. They are rare, you take meds before during, and after to prevent them, and the ones I experienced were dwarfed by my imaginings.

2) You will be told about a device that is used to collect a sample of your prostate. What you will not be told is that this device, when in use, sounds like something invented by Josef Mengele (I am not kidding). As it is used on you, you may be skeptical that you will emerge with a prostate at all. Its snap is worse than its bite, however. It smarts, but doesn’t last that long.

3) I didn’t read the instructions on the required Fleets Enema until it was time to use it. Absence of specific pronouns in the directions plus concerns about my flexibility caused me to consider, with great trepidation, whether I would need to employ Nicole. I am happy to say that, though I am only slightly less stiff than Mike Pence, I managed. And if I could, you can. If I couldn’t have? I am fortunate enough to be loved enough.

4) One of my biggest concerns was having my agéd butt stared at, not just by a doctor but also the inevitable nurse. Don’t ask me why I was worried the urologist’s assistant would be a woman (I do not assume one would be)! However, I should have been more worried about a different part of my anatomy. She indeed was a woman, and, to my instant horror, she first asked me to take off my shoes and socks. I had not treated myself to my annual toenail clip, and when she saw my naked feet, I swear I saw her freeze. Nicole had reassured me prior to the procedure when I told her I was worried about farting, “Phil, they’ve seen everything, believe me!” Maybe not quite everything.

5) You will be numbed up, but “just to take the edge off,” the assistant corrected me; I was hoping to go under, but no dice. It is not like getting a crown or a filling; you are much less numb. Still, you are asked to have a ride to and from the procedure. In spite of my being completely unaltered as I walked out of the clinic, the echo of the Mengele Clippers was ringing so loudly in my ears that, when I walked out to Nicole’s car and tried to open the door, I heard the locks click. “This isn’t your car,” the horrified woman’s bulging eyes yelled to me. Oops. Nicole had not yet arrived. I awkwardly waved, bowed in apology, and crawfished hurriedly back to the clinic doors. Words of wisdom: stay focused when you’re in the parking lot!

The events of the day, even William Zabka‘s brilliance in Cobra Kai (Nicole calls him “The Lost Overeem Brother), paled in comparison to my trip to the urologist. But as I told my friend Rex, I basically Samantha-blinked and it was over–it hurts more than a colonoscopy (which does not hurt at all), but lasts a fifth the duration. Bottoms up!

Streaming for Strivers:

Message from the cosmos: “Send more Gil Scott Heron!”

Cloister Commentary, Day 306: Inauguration 2021

The previous president was someone I detested long before he ran. I’ve not ever been a fan of bullies, narcissists, racists, con men, boors, liars, cheats, and infantile adults, and he was all of that and more sadness in one package. In short, he was the opposite of everything I’ve striven (and am still striving) to be. Figuratively, I’ve been holding my nose for four years, but also trying to figure out his appeal without thinking ill of my fellow Americans–and, yes, at times, trying to understand the immense personal unhappiness that’s led to the man’s present state. He is human; as I told my students the day after the 2016 election, he’s someone’s son, father, husband. But I was forced to reevaluate my perception of others, including family, and I failed to reach that understanding. I am very glad he is gone from my daily sight and earshot, and I’m ready to fight myself back to a less cynical position.

I was at work editing student papers and at the doctor’s during the inauguration ceremony; I wanted to watch it in real time with Nicole and everyone else–I think I would have felt it more. I also was very distracted. Catching up via video later, I was deeply moved by Amanda Gorman’s poem and Kamala Harris’ swearing-in. Today, I’ll check out Biden’s address and the musical performances. Still, a lingering uneasiness about January 6 and the Herculean tasks ahead of us–several of which preceded the previous president (though he made them much more difficult)–has me in an anhedoniacal state. Look it up. I think it’s a word.

Streaming for Survivors:

But for now…once again (or was it ever?)…

Cloister Commentary, Day 305: Doorknobs and Derrières

It’s a busy morning now, so I will make this brief.

I spent much of my day intending to sample Euphoria to see if it would be a good series for Nicole and I to adopt in the future–and ended up bingeing. Then because I was caught up in how her day went (first day back with in-seat education) and getting dinner prepared (a Pasta La Fata kit of ravioli and arancini), I forgot to tell her. That show is…an adult dose, which is an ironic phrase, but its compassion far exceeds its extreme vision. I think she will like it–plus she once sampled a show for us that she and my mom called “historical porn,” the name of which I can’t remember, but I haven’t seen it yet.

I should have much more to say tomorrow. I recall what my dad said when we got married: “Don’t let the doorknob hit you in the ass.”

Streaming for Survivors:

Needed something for just the right energy this morning. Found it.

Cloister Commentary, Day 304: Good Morning, America?

One ritual my mom and I observe when I’m visiting is watching Good Morning America together. The show’s hosts are relatively down to earth, seldom seem to be forcing bonhomie, and exhibit actual personality. Also, I’ve observed that people with diastemas have special qualities, and Michael Strahan seems to support that observation. Still, they have great difficulty maintaining the tone suggested by the show’s title when video, audio, and stills from the Capitol Insurrection are laced through it like concertina wire. I give them credit for trying.

I traveled the road back home to Columbia, where Nicole met me with a kiss, a hug, and spaghetti. She was tensely preparing to return to in-seat teaching in the midst of what every credible source is calling a pandemic out of control, but she had time for warmth and humor in welcoming me back. I’m nervous, too. As per usual lately, I resorted to sports as an escape; I’m disgusted with the Harden trade, but somehow I’m still drawn to watch the Nets. I’m that much of a Durantula fan, I guess.

We learned mid-evening that Nicole’s mom’s devoted and spirited rat terrier Jack passed away. When Lynda died in 2013, our friends George and Susie Frissell agreed to adopt him and were great parents for his remaining seven years. George regularly took him on walks, encouraged him to chase squirrels, and sent us “fireside fotos” (Jack loved that spot). The last time we saw him was in early 2020, when we took him and our recently departed hound Louis for a walk around Stephens Lake Park. Tell me, is it still 2020?

Streaming for Strivers:

Suffering and smiling–that seems to be the ticket.