Category: Golden Years

Boccaccio wrote Decameron, with its ten-days-worth of tales told by seven young ladies and three young men who had isolated themselves in a villa outside Florence in order to escape the ravages of the Black Death of 1348. That epidemic of the 14th century has been replaced, in the 21st century, by one brought about by a novel coronavirus, designed COVID-19, since it was first encountered in China in the last months of 2019. So far, it has infected some half-million people worldwide.

The US has about one hundred thousand known cases of COVID-19, with some two thousand in Texas. As of March 28, 2020, there have been only twenty-six reported deaths in the state due to a virus pictured as a pink pincushion.

While many have endured hardships, sufferings and deaths, Karen and I, as well as the other nine hundred residents of Eagle’s Trace, have had mere inconveniences. We elders may not have a self-induced quarantine like those Florentine youths, but our “shelter-in-place” has helped to keep us safe and well. Although our tales are not as risqué as those of Boccaccio’s time, they might be jotted down for those who read these notes in a future year, assuming this nation and its citizens will have a future year. Some see the beginning of the apocalypse or at least a huge dystopia ahead of us.

Daily accounts in social media and television newscasts have documented, ad nauseam, the political and economic results of this epidemic. For some strange coincidence, governmental announcements seem to be made at 11:30 a.m., CDT, when Karen would prefer to watch Jeopardy, the gameshow, not the reality-show. Many people are undergoing their own personal jeopardy, with their rapidly falling (crashing) markets. Fortunately, for me, personally, my portfolio has dropped a mere 18%, since the beginning of the month.

About three weeks ago, when all of this began with earnest here in Houston, I might have been more concerned and anxious than I am today. It was on a Tuesday. I had gone to the dentist to have a small cavity filled. With a numbed mouth, I somehow had bitten my lip very badly during the following hours and so, on Wednesday, March 11, I called my dentist to learn if there was anything I could do to help the healing process. There wasn’t, but his office did say they had been intending to call all their patients seen the previous day. Evidently, one of them had notified my dentist that he, the patient, might have the coronavirus and was awaiting a final, determining test. The dental office would be closing that day for an indefinite period and would send me an email if a follow-up were needed! (They never did.)

Yes, I was “concerned” by the information given to me, but I was in the usual state of denial. I reasoned that my dentist, like other professionals, had adequate sterilization procedures in place for his instruments and, moreover, it was not probable that I had been exposed to any aerosol viruses left by a presumed, but unconfirmed, victim. Nevertheless, I’ve been taking my temperature three-times-a-day. It has remained below 98.5o every day for three weeks! I have passed any isolation period usually associated with exposure to this new coronavirus.

I, like all of our friends, have been complying with the recently established ground rules for “social distancing.” Eagle’s Trace has made this easy to practice. All clubs and gatherings have been eliminated for the known future. I cancelled my own Catholic Project classes scheduled to begin at the end of the month. Karen and I no longer attend our group for Legacy in Words. Her choir does not meet, much to the extreme regret of its director. We are not confined to our apartments, but when we pass others in the halls, living room, or lobby, no one touches. Hugs, of course, are taboo. If two people stand less than four or five feet apart, others wonder about their positions.

Meals are no longer available in the dining rooms or café. Food for three-meals-a-day is delivered to our door every third day. Actually, the limited menu from which we choose our entrees has been rather good in quality and outstanding in quantity. (The only exception has been for lima beans. Neither of us like them; our sink disposal also did not like them. The maintenance man with his plunger worked wonders.) With the abundance of included deserts and snacks, my intentions for Lent have vanished along with the munchables.

Actually, Lent has been a very strange season this year. Archbishop DiNardo has cancelled all masses during the week and on Sundays, until further notice, in accord with suggestions made by federal health agencies. Friday fish-fries, along with all other gatherings relating to any religious organization, have been suspended. While a virtual mass streamed from a local parish may be spiritually uplifting, the sacramental presence is not available. It’s probably true that some folks might miss the real presence of the fried fish more than they do the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. On the other hand, I did find the unique “urbi et orbi” blessing of Pope Francis, being streamed live from the Vatican (noon, local time!), to be a comforting spiritual experience. It was also very moving to see him standing alone, under a large canopy, facing a completely empty St Peter’s Square. The rains were not what kept the people away; the immediate cause was the fact that Italy has a higher death rate from COVID-19 (more than 10%) than any other nation.

Fortunately, the weather in Houston has made our isolation more bearable. Although it is still March, the daily temperatures have been in the 80’s! With brisk breezes and low humidity, I have enjoyed the hours I’ve sat outside in a comfortable chair and been able to view the ripples on the lake in the center of our campus. This is the only time I have taken to be outdoors. I’m pleased there has been this opportunity.

Normally, Karen and I ventured out at least once a week for a meal in a nearby restaurant. By local order, they have all been closed for meals consumed on site. However, some have stayed open for carry-out or delivery service. Fortunately, Babbins, where grandson Dillon works, remains open; on the other hand, his brother, Thomas, no longer has employment as a bartender. With our at-door food delivery, and lack of alcohol consumption, we’ve had no need for any external service, although I do miss pizza, hot-and-sour soup and gumbo.

During the last two weeks I have made only one excursion to Kroger’s to purchase eggs, cheese, milk and margarine. During this shopping event, I also marveled at the shelves bare of any paper products: napkins, towels, tissues and toilet paper. For some strange and unknowable reason, people have been hoarding toilet paper. I can understand why canned tuna fish and other non-perishables may be unavailable, but why do people need toilet paper for their apocalypse?! Should I end these jotted notes merely by writing, “No shit!?”

Among my very first memoire essays, was one entitled, “Pimple on His Chest,” in which I wrote about one of my earliest memories – the death of my five-year-old-best-friend, Jimmy Rossi. When he died, my mother told me that the cause was from a pimple on his chest. For many years thereafter, I deeply feared to see a pimple on my chest. It was a sure sign I would die. It was only decades later I realized the cause of Jimmy’s death was polio myelitis and I was not doomed to die from a pimple-on-my-chest.

Polio was, indeed, the scourge of my childhood. Throughout the country, kids were forbidden to gather together for any reason. Our isolation was mandatory. No parent wanted a child to spend the remainder of one’s life inside of an iron lung. Finally, in the late fifties, there was the sugar cube laced with a vaccine that warded off the menace of infantile paralysis.

But now, some seventy-five years later, the generation which no longer fears the polio virus has become the major target for the coronavirus that causes a respiratory disease called COVID-19. We have come a long way in our understanding of what a virus, itself, might be.

In recent years, we have learned about the Ebola virus, which causes hemorrhagic fever. That virus, discovered in Africa in the mid 1970s, was not thought of as a possible worldwide threat until 2018, when it spread rapidly through the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Uganda and Tanzania. Nevertheless, this virus was judged, by most Americans, to be an unlikely problem in the U.S. We had been conditioned to believe that viral epidemics could not occur in a modernized society.

In the previous year, 2017, our western states had outbreaks of a hantavirus that caused both hemorrhagic and pulmonary diseases. Most citizens, however, thought they could avoid the rodent droppings, which carried the hantavirus, or the body fluids which served as the repositories for the Ebola virus. We went about our daily lives with minimal disturbances. We even learned how to coexist with AIDS and HIV.

Now, in 2020, in a time of national and international unrest due to many political, economic and cultural reasons, our current virus, indeed, wears a new crown. This coronavirus possesses a disruptive authority not seen since the time of the bubonic plagues of the fourteenth century, when the population of Europe was truly decimated by yersinia pestis bacteria. With the demise of the clergy as well as peasants and merchants, the accompanying intellectual, economic, and cultural changes were extremely significant. According to some, this is the time when the use of vernacular languages as well as the peasant revolts of Europe increased. With this history, who knows what the long-term effects of COVID-19 might be.

Thus far, there have been modest impacts on the small events that shape our lives. At last Sunday’s mass, communion was distributed only in the form of the consecrated host; the use of the common chalice was forbidden. At the exchange of peace, the congregation smiled at one another; no longer did people shake hands or exchange a hug. In some parishes, the holy water fonts at the entrances into the sanctuary were emptied.

The self-service at the buffet held each Sunday in our retirement community was replaced by the wait-staff transferring food to our plates. The use of hand sanitizers was strongly encouraged when entering the dining room. According to some, the price of such items has increased tenfold, if you can even find them in a grocery or pharmacy store. And whatever else you do, don’t touch your face!

Nationally and internationally, travel is being restricted by both governmental authority and personal concerns. Major international gatherings have been cancelled in Austin and Houston. So far, the Rodeo and Livestock Show are still open, but the crowds may tend to be limited. Even Texans are reluctant to be exposed to the coughs and sneezes of anyone who might be carrying a “bug.”

Each year, thousands die because of the flu virus, but it appears that death from routine causes – be they cars, guns or flu viruses – can be tolerated, whereas aliens, whether they are a virus originating in China or refugees from Mexico, are to be avoided at all costs.

It would seem that every human has his own pimple on his chest. We will, no doubt, continue to fear these blemishes until we realize we are calling them by the wrong name and fear them needlessly. No scientist is close to discovering the cure for the virus of xenophobia. I hope they do better for COVID-19.

A year ago, only a few weeks after COVID-19 was recognized to be a viral infection on the verge of becoming an epidemic, I wrote a few comments on the immediate effects brought about by this novel coronavirus. At the time (March 2020), most people, especially our President, Donald Trump, thought it would be short-lived. In his view, this flu-like illness would vanish long before Easter. It did not. It grew worse. It became a true pandemic.

During that first year (2020 – 2021), some 2.4 million people around the world died of it. In the US, alone, there were about one-half-million COVID-19 related deaths. More than 107 million cases were confirmed, worldwide, of which more than 27 million were found in the United States. In Texas, there were about 2.5 million cases and 471 thousand deaths.

Obviously, much has changed from what I described in early 2020. Shortly after I wrote about the modifications implemented at mass at Epiphany of the Lord, Karen and I, along with all other Catholics in Houston, were no longer able to attend mass, in person. Churches were closed completely. We participated in the Eucharistic celebration through live streaming from St Anthony of Padua in The Woodlands. We sampled services streamed from other sites and preferred this one for its liturgical forms and homiletics.

Now, in early 2021, places of worship are reopening on a limited basis, with people sitting in socially distanced pews, i.e., every other pew is vacant. Masks are worn by almost everyone in the congregation. The Presider removes his only during the homily, standing at a safe distance from others. Karen and I have not received communion for the last year!

A new, conflicted lifestyle exists throughout the nation and the world. Surely, history books will record much of what has transpired during this century’s meltdown, one equivalent to that of the plagues of the 14th century in Europe. I need not cover these conflicts, but a few comments on how COVID-19 has impacted Karen and me would be appropriate.

We have been cut off from visiting with friends, and even more significant and devastating, we have been restricted in direct interactions with family members. We did not gather for either Easter or Christmas in 2020. Nor for birthdays or any other events. We have dined a couple of times with Ken and his family at Del Pueblos, with Deb and Frank at Brookwood, and with Chris and Kelly at the same place. We made an outdoor visit with Dillon, Carolyn, Brantley, and Shiloh at their house. We also had a very pleasant visit with Ken’s immediate family on his newly covered patio. That’s it!

Life within Eagle’s Trace has been drastically modified. For many weeks, the staff delivered meals and mail to the door of our apartment. Centralized dining was eliminated and is now returning with limitations relating to the numbers present and how far apart they must be seated. Karen and I continue to bring back a daily meal from the Eagle’s Roost café. Meetings of any kind have been cancelled for many months. I stopped presenting any offerings for the Catholic Project; Karen no longer organized prayer groups.

Our interactions external to Eagle’s Trace have been equally limited. I venture to Kroger’s once-a-week to stock up on essentials, mainly for breakfast and lunch, as well as laundry and miscellaneous household needs. I wear a face mask for every trip and use latex gloves while picking out items to be purchased. Toilet paper is back in stock, although limited in the number of rolls you can purchase at one time.

Karen, except for rare visits to medical sites and the brief family encounters I’ve mentioned, remains apartment bound. We have not been to a mall or shopping center for a year. We survive with items ordered online from Amazon or a few of Karen’s specialty catalogs. I completely understand why so many local businesses are closing shop.

In the last year, I have had three haircuts; Karen finally resumed restricted visits to the salon on the first floor of Eagle’s Trace for hers. We are encouraged to interact at a six-foot distance from anyone we meet within the common areas here. Face masks are mandatary. Hand washing upon returning to the apartment is strongly encouraged. Electronic streaming has become a way of life; for us, not only with Sunday liturgy but also with a weekly podcast viewed in lieu of attending a formal town-hall meeting. The content usually relates to news about COVID-19 at Eagle’s Trace.

Many within the city, state, and country argue vehemently about the need to wear a mask in public (scientifically proven safety versus governmental authority); about social distancing of at least six feet for masked interactions; about the opening of essential businesses like bars, nail salons, and fitness centers; and about whether students should attend schools in person or by electronic zooming. Karen and I have avoided any discussions with others on these and other politically related issues associated with COVID-19. We do what we believe we should be doing. We avoid those folks we believe are not doing what we do. There are times when intolerance might be necessary for survival, as one sees it. At the same time, maybe, there is a need to tolerate intolerance! We keep trying.

Perhaps life and its events will return to a new-normal in the not-too-distant future. It is highly unlikely to return to what was “normal” only eighteen months ago. Several vaccines have, remarkably, been developed over the last few months. Usually, it takes years before such treatments can be made available. However, using new technology relating to “messenger RNA” for the production of antigen-proteins, two vaccines (made by Pfizer or Moderna) are being used under emergency certification. The Pfizer formulation, although requiring storage at extremely cold temperatures, has been made available to Eagle’s Trace through CVS pharmacy. Karen and I have received our shots at the two required clinics held here. Some 1,000 residents, staff and related personnel have been vaccinated. On the other hand, anti-vaccers continue to rant against the treatment. Some seem to believe the pandemic has been faked, along with many other events in life.

Although the vaccine will not keep us from acquiring the virus, the symptoms requiring assisted ventilation within a hospital should be reduced along with resulting deaths from COVID-19. The only negative aspect of the inoculation, for me, was a painful upper arm muscle for the week following each injection. Karen had no complaints. Unlike what we have heard about the conditions others have faced in attempting to be vaccinated, our clinics were a breeze. We have found one more reason to say we made the right decision fifteen years ago by moving to Eagle’s Trace. If one must shelter-in-place, we have the ideal place in which to shelter.

In the middle of the night, between January 6 and 7 of 2021, I awoke and, lying there, wondered if I were going insane. What is reality and what is fantasy? Is my life actually my personal experience or a metaphysical solipsism? Can anyone, besides me, read these words I’m writing?

Maybe the feeling is a result of the movie I watched last night. “Unknown.” Actor Liam Neeson awoke from a coma resulting from an auto accident and found his identity was not recognized by his wife and others. He finally discovered he was really a trained assassin and had assumed, as his own reality, the cover-story invented by his team, including his “wife,” in order to eliminate a biochemist who had developed a new species of corn.

Surely the newscasts I had watched, before and after the movie, did not depict reality. The images of American citizens storming the Capitol Building in Washington, D.C., having been excited to riot by the President of the United States, who desired to remain in power, having been voted-out by a majority of the people and a plurality of the Electoral College, could not be true. This had to be part of my imagination. But since it seemed so real, I must be hallucinating. I might be on the verge of insanity. Or it was an instance of metaphysical solipsism where I am the only existing mind and everything external to my mind does not truly exist.

I finally recognized I had not been imagining what I remembered about the television news programs I had seen. President Trump had really called on his Trumparians to march on the Capitol. Perhaps he thought they would mill around outside and not enter the building to vandalize it. They would not stop Congress in its ceremonial recognition that the Electoral College had legally elected Biden as President, to be inaugurated two weeks from now. After all, the fifty states, themselves, had certified the correctness of the count for each one. Almost sixty ill-fated federal and non-federal lawsuits confirmed the legality of the elections. He had, indeed, not won, as he had been claiming for the last month, by a record-breaking landslide which had been thwarted by those who were not Trumparians.

In a video message, he had claimed his Trumparians were “good people” who should “remain peaceful” as they occupied the Capitol building and made the Senators and Representatives seek hiding places as they, themselves, mocked the democracy they claimed they were defending. He continued to love them. Fortunately, those he loved did not have the wisdom to destroy the certified records waiting to be reported. They had been content to dress as Vikings waving Confederate flags and merely occupy the building, until the Capitol Police and National Guard forced them to leave, thus finally allowing Congress to carry out its governmental role late into the night, about the time I awoke to question my own sanity.

As I write these words, it is unknown what the next days and weeks will bring. Will the Cabinet, as some postulate, invoke the 25th Amendment and declare the current President incompetent to retain his office for the next two weeks, thus inaugurating Mike Pence as the shortest-governing President in some two and one-half centuries? Will those around him be able to sequester his actions for the next fortnight and preclude his overthrow of our democracy? And if there is, indeed, a “peaceful transfer of power,” as has been reported on his behalf, will there be a “peaceful continuation of power.” Perhaps the answers lie, not in a question of my own sanity, but that of the Trumparians at the gates.

Yesterday, January 6, was the Feast of the Epiphany of the Lord. It commemorates the “showing forth” of the coming of the one whose intent was to bring forgiveness and peace to people of good will. We still await the second Epiphany, the second coming of the One who will rule after the apocalypse. It is also said that in the final days, the Trump will sound. The question remains: what blast will be heard at that instant?

Donald J. Trump has been impeached for the second time – and all within a single year. There are many ways to break records. This should not be one of them! The House passed a single article of Impeachment: to the effect that the President of the United States incited his radical followers to march on the Capitol building and begin an insurrection against our democracy. All of the Democrats and ten Republicans in the House voted in favor of the article of Impeachment: “Resolved, That Donald John Trump, President of the United States, is impeached for high crimes and misdemeanors ….” The document ends with the words: “He threatened the integrity of the democratic system, interfered with the peaceful transition of power, and imperiled a coequal branch of Government. He thereby betrayed his trust as President, to the manifest injury of the people of the United. States. Wherefore, Donald John Trump, by such conduct, has demonstrated that he will remain a threat to national security, democracy, and the Constitution if allowed to remain in office, and has acted in a manner grossly incompatible with self-governance and the rule of law. Donald John Trump thus warrants impeachment and trial, removal from office, and disqualification to hold and enjoy any office of honor, trust, or profit under the United States.”

A year ago, Trump was impeached for seeking the aid of a foreign leader to find foreign-based evidence that would prevent Joe Biden from being elected. Now claiming that Biden stole the election from him, he proclaims to his Trumparians that the forthcoming inauguration will establish a fraudulent presidency. Therefore, they should “fight like hell” to preserve the democracy which he, himself, should continue to lead. Following his speech to his assembled disciples, they vandalized the Capitol halls in which Congress was assembled to confirm the results of the majority of the Electoral College, as well as that of the majority of the voters last November. There was the appearance that these invaders would, if given the chance, hold Congressmen as hostages. They even shouted to “Hang Pence,” the current Republican Vice-President, who has been a very loyal partner with Trump for the past four years.

At the moment, some 2,500 National Guardsmen are stationed within the Capitol building. At the moment, there are more troops sleeping in the halls of Congress than there are stationed in Afghanistan and the Middle East. I pray that they will not be called upon in the days, or weeks, to come, as the Senate debates and votes to support the House’s impeachment. I assume that Mr. Trump will actually no longer be President when the final vote is taken, since the Inauguration will occur within a week from now. But a positive response would (perhaps) preclude his running for the Presidency in four years, as he claims he will do.

The scenario occurring at the moment continues to seem to be a narrative that is not real. Somehow, we, as a nation, will suddenly awaken and realize the sham which has been occurring. Even Mitch McConnell, the majority leader, for the moment, of the Republican-controlled Senate may be in favor of voting for this second Impeachment, having led the attack against the first one a year ago. A lot can happen within a very short time. I may, yet, see a return to sanity, with an awakening from this nightmare and a dismissing the phantoms of the past.

The opening weeks of the year 2021 have been momentous. They will, no doubt, be discussed by American citizens during the months to follow and, in the years to follow, by the world’s historians. On January 6 Trumparians attacked the United States Capitol Building. Shortly afterwards, the House of Representatives, for the second time, voted that Donald J. Trump should be impeached – this time, for inciting his loyal followers to thwart the certification of Biden as President-Elect and prevent the normal peaceful transfer of power.

Mitch McConnell, then the Majority Leader of the Senate, said the trial relating to his Article of Impeachment would not be held until after Biden’s Inauguration on January 20. Nancy Pelosi, Chairman of the House of Representatives, delivered the Article to the Senate shortly after this date. Reluctantly, the Senate began its deliberations in early February. On February 13, fifty Democrats and seven Republicans voted “guilty.” However, the “not guilty” votes by forty-three Republicans carried the day, since Senate agreement to an Impeachment requires a plurality of votes; the motion failed by seven votes.

The results of the Senate’s deliberations came as no surprise. There has been the political view that Trump, who no longer serves actively as President, could not be removed from this Office and an Impeachment would not be Constitutional. On the other hand, others expressed concern about the “January Exception,” wherein a lame-duck President could do whatever he wanted to during his last weeks in Office, in particular, foster events that would preclude the necessity of his vacating the Office, itself.

For me, and perhaps for others as well, the real surprise came in the speech delivered by Mitch McConnell, shortly after Trump’s forgone acquittal. Since the Senate is equally divided between the Republican and Democrat parties with Kamela Harris, a Democrat, as the newly elected Vice President who chairs this body, Senator McConnell is now the minority leader. Somewhat surprisingly, in his speech before the full Senate, he agreed with almost all of the issues raised by the Democrat House Managers, who had presented their case over three days in the Senate’s deliberations. Mr. McConnell said,

    “January 6th was a disgrace. American citizens attacked their own government. They used terrorism to try to stop a specific piece of democratic business they did not like. Fellow Americans beat and bloodied our own police. They stormed the Senate floor. They tried to hunt down the Speaker of the House. They built a gallows and chanted about murdering the vice president. ...     “They did this because they had been fed wild falsehoods by the most powerful man on Earth – because he was angry he'd lost an election.  Former President Trump's actions preceding the riot were a disgraceful dereliction of duty. ...     “There is no question that President Trump is practically and morally responsible for provoking the events of that day. The people who stormed this building believed they were acting on the wishes and instructions of their president. And their having that belief was a foreseeable consequence of the growing crescendo of false statements, conspiracy theories, and reckless hyperbole which the defeated president kept shouting into the largest megaphone on planet Earth. The issue is not only the president's intemperate language on January 6th. It is not just his endorsement of remarks in which an associate urged "trial by combat." It was also the entire manufactured atmosphere of looming catastrophe; the increasingly wild myths about a reverse landslide election that was being stolen in some secret coup by our now-president. ...     “The leader of the free world cannot spend weeks thundering that shadowy forces are stealing our country and then feign surprise when people believe him and do reckless things. Sadly, many politicians sometimes make overheated comments or use metaphors that unhinged listeners might take literally. This was different. This was an intensifying crescendo of conspiracy theories, orchestrated by an outgoing president who seemed determined to either overturn the voters' decision or else torch our institutions on the way out. ...     “The unconscionable behavior did not end when the violence began.  Whatever our ex-president claims he thought might happen that day, whatever reaction he says he meant to produce, by that afternoon, he was watching the same live television as the rest of the world.  A mob was assaulting the Capitol in his name. These criminals were carrying his banners, hanging his flags, and screaming their loyalty to him. It was obvious that only President Trump could end this. Former aides publicly begged him to do so. Loyal allies frantically called the administration. But the president did not act swiftly. He did not do his job. He didn't take steps so federal law could be faithfully executed, and order restored. Instead, according to public reports, he watched television happily as the chaos unfolded. He kept pressing his scheme to overturn the election! Even after it was clear to any reasonable observer that Vice President Pence was in danger, even as the mob carrying Trump banners was beating cops and breaching perimeters, the president sent a further tweet attacking his vice president. Predictably and foreseeably under the circumstances, members of the mob seemed to interpret this as further inspiration to lawlessness and violence. ...

 If Senator McConnell had said these words, publicly, before the vote, there is a possibility that fewer than the forty-three Republicans would have voted: “Not guilty.” On the other hand, many of the seventy-plus-millions who voted a few months ago to reelect Mr. Trump might have renounced this particular Republican leader and we would be on the verge of a prolonged insurrection. Perhaps, Mr. McConnell was correct: Mr. Trump’s actions should not lead to his Impeachment, but rather, bear other results for him, personally. The events to come will prove to be interesting.

There is a saying to the effect that a certain, usually notoriously bad, event will occur “… when Hell freezes over!” The weather forecast for tomorrow, Presidents’ Day, 2021, for Houston and the Gulf Coast actually indicates that we will have the coldest temperatures ever recorded in this part of the country. Houston, itself, may expect several inches of snow! Look out!!

One week ago, on May 30, 2024, Donald J. Trump, former President of the United States was found guilty on 34 charges related to his activities around his election held eight years ago. He had been accused of falsifying business records relating to hush-money payments made through his then current personal lawyer, Michael Cohen, to a former porn actor, Stormy Daniels, who claimed she previously had an illicit relationship with Mr. Trump. The hush-money, some $130,000, was paid to prevent publication of her story in the National Inquirer immediately prior to the 2016 election, which Mr. Trump won but might have lost if the story had been made public, particularly since he had recently stated how a wealthy man, like him, could get away with any physical desire relating to women.

The guilty verdict was reached by twelve jurors in the Manhattan court, under the jurisdiction of Judge Juan Merchan, who will pass sentence on July 11, immediately prior to the 2024 Republican National Convention in Milwaukee, at which the GOP will nominate Mr. Trump as its candidate for President of the United States.

Mr. Trump, of course, says he is not only innocent of all charges (including having sex with Ms. Daniels) and, in reality, the trial is a “witch hunt” propagated by the Democrats led by an evil President Biden. He maligns both the Judge and the jurors who have taken part in this evil, fake trial. His words and actions are backed by all of the leaders of the Republican party, as well as by his adamant Trumparian followers.

Mr. Trump maintains he was not given a fair trial in Manhattan, even though this is the city where he grew up and made his billions as a real estate developer. Judge Merchan was biased as indicated by a $15.00 (or $35.00) donation he made to Mr. Biden’s Presidential campaign. Mr. Cohen, who testified about the financial transfers, was an evil liar, despite the fact he had been the personal lawyer whom Mr. Trump relied upon as his own “fixer” during his own former campaign and Presidency. If Mr. Trump was worried about the notoriety of any sexual relationship with Ms. Daniels and other women, it was because of his desire that his own wife not be concerned and not that the national electorate might be concerned. After all, he once said he could kill someone on Fifth Avenue, and no one would hold him responsible.

Thus far, his angry words and the actions of the Trumparians have been well heard, but physical action has been limited to relatively peaceful demonstrations throughout the country. This may not last. The insurrection of January 6, 2020, is vividly remembered. Trumparians had stormed the Capital building in an attempt to force Vice President Pence and the Senate to verify Mr. Trump’s election by the Electoral College. His legions could, once again, threaten both the Congress and all those who might not have voted for Mr. Trump. As he had once urged his Trumparians to fight to uphold his election, he now calls for them to fight for their freedom and rise up against all who oppose him. Once again, civil war is a threat upon the horizon.

The first major episode will occur on July 11 when Mr. Trump is sentenced for the 34 counts on which he has been found guilty by a jury. It is unlikely Judge Merchan will sentence him to prison. He can, however, be fined and his movements curtailed. As a former President and potential candidate, he will continue to receive protection by the Secret Service. Even these limited legal actions could result in uprisings by Trumparians throughout the country. It is unlikely the Republican Convention, a week later, will nominate someone else. It will be interesting to learn whom they will choose for Vice President, given the possibilities which could become available to the one chosen to replace Mr. Trump, should the need arise after November. The next significant episode will, of course, come at that time.

In this election, Trumparians will join with him in their acceptance of his godhood and invincibility in foreign and domestic affairs relating to the Mexican border and the vicious immigrants who cross it, to the national economics and a lack of buying-power for the average American, and to the climatic events of floods, hurricanes, tornados and earthquakes, no doubt caused by ignoble Democrats. Come November, even non-Trumparian Republicans will likely close ranks in support of his return to the power which was stolen from him four years ago.

It will be interesting to see how the “independent” voter responds to Mr. Trump’s guilty convictions. They will also be moved by social and economic elements, those which even the Democrats agree are problematic for Mr. Biden. The outcome of the 2024 election is very uncertain. On the other hand, the results which follow may, unfortunately, be less uncertain.

If Mr. Trump is again declared the loser, there will be a national uprising, a new civil war, based once again, on states’ rights versus federal control. A second stealing of the election by an evil, degenerate Biden and his fellow Democrats will not be tolerated. This time the Capital and the White House will be under active attack. Their leaders will wear more than cattle horns and carry more than tear gas and baseball bats. Military battles will be held throughout the country between the November election and the January inauguration. There will be no peaceful continuation of power.

If Mr. Trump wins and returns to the active Presidency of the United States, physical military battles will be limited. Instead, there will be a less bloody but equally devastating implementation of a dictatorship. Pageantry will replace politics. Gatherings will resemble those once observed in Berlin and Rome and currently in Pyongyang, Moscow and Beijing. Donald J. Trump may be found guilty of felonies, but the American people may become the prisoners. The question remains: who is truly guilty?

With the passage of years, the arrival of each month seems to come more quickly. The next week begins before the last one has had an opportunity to end effectively. Every other day is a Saturday and time for going to an evening mass and dinner out. This was evident until early in July 2024, when the cogs of time jammed to yield an epoch rather than a series of repetitive hours.

The first notification arrived as a message from Eagle Trace’s management about a major break in the community’s water line. A flooded street resulted in a blockage requiring a circumnavigation of the entire complex in order to leave or enter it. On the other hand, the real damage was a loss of water pressure in all of the community for the next two days. Staff were, however, very accommodating as, twice a day, they brought a bucket of water to allow a toilet to be flushed in each apartment.

Fortunately, the water pressure was restored before the fireworks exploded on the Fourth and the winds of tropical storm Beryl approached the Gulf Coast. During the weekend, this category 1 hurricane struck Matagorda Bay, south of Houston, and quickly passed over the area. Nevertheless, its winds were inordinately strong and did extreme damage to the area’s power system. For reasons still under debate, CenterPoint Energy was not able to restore electricity to most of its 2.3 million customers until days, if not a week, afterwards.

Apparently, Eagle’s Trace is accessed by two central transformers, one associated with the new neighborhoods, another for the four older buildings, including our own Pecan Grove. The original residents found themselves living in darkened apartments with room temperatures in the high eighties! Many sweated together in the central living room and dining areas. Karen and I spent several days in the lounges of Mockingbird Plaza, one of the newly opened residences, readily accessed by a five-minute walk from our unlivable unit, to which we returned for a nightly baking. Once again, the ET staff provided meals and assistance to hundreds of residents. By the second weekend of the month, it appeared we had survived the current major problems of our life in a retirement community. Most of the city, however, had more tragic experiences with fallen trees, crushed houses, and closed businesses.

During this city-wide chaos, there were personal problems I had to address. One issue may have been associated with the lack of appropriate sanitation during the first days of the month. I developed a week-long sore throat, cough and low grade (100◦) fever. Fortunately, most of the COVID-like symptoms ended before Beryl’s effects were fully in place.

Karen, herself, had her own issues. Having lost her balance, she fell in our apartment and required the aid of quickly arriving security staff to help her stand, a feat she could not accomplish on her own and one for which I could not offer assistance.

With the decline of my flu-like symptoms, other ailments appeared. For an unknown reason, I developed a sprained left wrist and arm. Although I could still steer the car to make a trip to Kroger’s in order to replace the food lost during our week-long lack of electricity, this action became limited as a result of a stiff neck and unturnable head. Fortunately, there has been no other need to leave the grounds. After all, there was now a functioning television to watch. On the other hand, the TV-content was suddenly very limited.

On Saturday, July 13, as we were recovering electrical power, the national event for the week was the attempted assassination of former President Donald J. Trump, during his campaign rally in Butler, Pennsylvania. A young sniper had managed to clip the top of Mr. Trump’s right ear. He fell behind the podium, as his followers gasped in horror. Moments later, he was resurrected and, with triumphal arm raised in the air and with a determination to continue the fight, he was escorted by surrounding Secret Service members to a waiting car which drove him to a local hospital.

The wound was superficial, requiring no sutures, but only a well-observable bandage. Tragically, a bystander had been killed and two others had been wounded in the attack by a twenty-year old man, who had no apparent motive to shoot Mr. Trump. He, himself, was killed. Of course, members of Congress, especially the Republicans, interrogated the director of the Secret Service. Their commentary quickly led to her resignation. Continuing investigations by Congress and other governmental offices, has produced limited information about the assailant, Matthew Crooks, a registered Republican who had contributed $15.00 to the Biden campaign! Somehow, he had managed to find a location on a rooftop only 148 yards from Mr. Trump’s podium.

During the week following the attempted assassination of Mr. Trump, the Republican Party met in Milwaukee to nominate him, officially, as the Party’s Presidential candidate for 2024. By Thursday, he was unofficially coronated by all of his former rivals, one of whom, J.D. Vance, a Senator from Ohio, he had now accepted as his running mate. Their leadership of the news cycle did not last very long during this strange July 2024.

A week latter, on Sunday July 21, Joe Biden, the current President of the United States, announced he would no longer seek the nomination by the Democrats at their own convention in August. Since late June, following his inept debate with Mr. Trump, many leaders in his own party had called for him to step aside. Despite those who have been concerned about his age (81 years) and health status (currently with diagnosed COVID-19), Mr. Biden had repeatedly affirmed his intent to remain in the running. However, sometime during this weekend, he decided he would no longer seek re-election. A few hours after his original announcement, he endorsed Kamala Harris, his current Vice President, as his replacement on the ballot. Before the end of July, she should announce the person who should replace her as Vice President in this year’s election.

At the moment, the national media are overcome with conflicting reports and opinions relating to the coming campaign for Trump-Vance versus Harris-TBN. Some people believe Kamala Harris, a multiracial woman, should be replaced by a more traditional candidate. However, she has suddenly obtained the backing of a significant number of the delegates who will select the Democratic candidate and, given the fact the Party’s campaign funds were increased by 81 million dollars within twenty-four hours of her backing by President Biden, it is likely she will become the official nominee when their convention meets next month in Chicago.

During the past week, the Republicans have already called for Harris’ impeachment as Vice President on the grounds that she has not invoked the 25th Amendment calling for the President’s replacement, which they believe is mandatory, since Mr. Biden, not being in condition to seek re-election, should no longer be able to serve as President.

The remainder of July is still ahead, no doubt with more surprises, in addition to those of a hurricane, an attempted assassination and a decline of a Presidential candidacy. Thus far, there have been several other notable events.

On Saturday morning, the day before Mr. Biden’s announcement, CrowdStrike, an international cybersecurity resource headquartered in Texas, released an update for their world-wide software programs, which crashed millions of computers around the world. Airlines, hospitals, banks and other companies using this software continued to have problems, even after the computer code error had been corrected.

Additional news coverage has been associated with the death, on Friday, July 19, of Sheila Jackson Lee, Houston’s Congressional representative over the last three decades. She had been known for her outstanding leadership in equal rights and being instrumental in the establishment of Juneteeth as a national holiday.

Another event, scheduled for the end of the month, may bring its own turmoil and dissension. The summer Olympic Games will open in Paris. Although the physical abilities of thousands of international athletes will be demonstrated, there are significant possibilities of political demonstrations as well, given the current war between Russia and Ukraine and the Israelis and Hamas, the Palestinian military organization. It was fifty years ago, when the massacre occurred at the Olympics being held in Munich. These quadrennial games dedicated to peace have often had their own political entanglements.

Although the events of this month have been dramatic, albeit even tragic for many, there have been other significant, personal occurrences for the month. In early July, our grandson, Gabriel was scheduled for several essential surgeries and is still undergoing hospitalization. On July 19th Samantha, wife of our grandson Jordan, gave birth to their first son, James. To maintain the strangeness of his month, it should be pointed out that exactly one year ago, on July 19, 2023, Kirby, our granddaughter, gave birth to Kipton, her own firstborn. Consequentially, among our ten great grandchildren, two of them now share the same birthday. Two other great grandsons, Shiloh and Liam, have the same birthday as their own fathers. A great granddaughter, Lila, has the same birthday as her aunt. And finally, another great granddaughter, Rory, shares her birthday with her grandfather, Christopher. So, more than half of our great grandchildren have birthday partners.

Evidently, for our extended family, the cogs of time stick together for their own strange reasons. Nevertheless, may the result of their turning be more positive than negative, beyond the month of July, 2024.

A prolonged viral attack usually comes with a warning, even though its initial outbreak may be a surprise. This was the case with COVID-19, a pulmonary infection quietly originating in China before exploding into a pandemic which has devastated our society, now and for the future. Similar conditions pertain to another event, one that might be designated as “Snovid-21.” The difference is: COVID-19 starts with a fever, Snovid-21 with a freeze.

This climatic attack began quietly on the long weekend celebrating both Valentine’s Day and Presidents’ Day, i.e., February 14 and 15, 2021. The ground in Houston, Texas, became white with snow; the air was frigid with temperatures below 10o – conditions extremely strange for the Gulf Coast. Conditions which lasted for seven days of woeful existence. Almost a month later, calamities which arrived with the cold-air-mass remain. Some wonder when they will be healed. After all, the results of Harvey can still be seen four years later.

Unlike a physiological viral attack, Snovid-21 actually began as a beautiful event. Although the weather forecasts predicted at least six inches of snow, an unheard-of occurrence for Houston, the visible covering was only an inch high, but still impressive, around the neighborhoods of Eagle’s Trace. The grass, sidewalks, and roads became a single surface of white. Roof tops changed from dull brown to sparkling brightness; their eaves remained covered with snow for an inordinately long interval, even after the ground, itself, was visible, once more.

For the first twenty-four hours, children of all ages, along with doting, laughing parents, constructed snowmen a couple of feet high – an improbable edifice for this part of the country. Some may have even tried to construct a snow-angel, even though the results would not be as durable as those seen in the north. Although the snowmen may have remained for days longer than would have been possible after previous snowfalls in Houston, the beauty of the event was short-lived.

The unusual cold air seized the south to a degree similar to that of the grip of a pulmonary virus on human lungs. Pipes froze. Pipes outside and inside. In homes and in businesses. Eagle’s Trace had its abundant share of water gushing from wounds in all of its buildings, in its ceilings and walls. Just as medical teams operating ventilators are required for the life of patients infected with COVID-19, maintenance teams roamed the corridors of Eagle’s Trace to operate growling pumps and industrial fans to “remediate” the moisture which, if left unattended, would lead to the growth of mold and to the ultimate un-livability our apartments. Just as “mitigation” has become the new word for attention to the concerns of COVID-19 patients, “remediation” has arrived to attend to Snovid-21 victims.

The water pressure in Houston fell dramatically. Lines were turned off. When pressure was restored, the city’s residents, including those of Eagle’s Trace, were instructed to boil water to be used for drinking and tooth-brushing. Parts of our facility were without water for several days; our own building, Pecan Grove, was waterless for only twenty-four hours. Bottled water for consumption was available; fluid for flushing toilets was not. In describing the results to our grandchildren, once the conditions had improved, I said that the fragrance of my bathroom had brought back vivid memories of the outhouse on my grandmother’s farm. One of my grandsons asked for an explanation of what I meant by an “outhouse.” I told him. I was also pleased to say that the dedicated staff of Eagle’s Trace had tried to “mitigate” the situation by bringing a bucket of water from the swimming pool to allow for one flush during the height of the turn-off.

In addition to the lack of water, completely for a time and undrinkable for several days, we were without electricity for a day, but only a day. Our two sons in north-Houston had to rely on their own generators, which they had thankfully purchased for previous, more routine post-hurricane outages. At least, we had access to the elevators functioning on ET’s own generators.

Without water and electricity, meals were not available in the local dining facilities. Nevertheless, the committed staff brought a daily meal to each apartment. The entrees were limited, but more than sufficient for survival. Once more, Karen and I agreed we had made the “right decision” sixteen years ago to move to this particular retirement community.

As had been the instruction for COVID-19, to take-cover-in-place to limit the spread of the virus, we were now urged to hunker-down during the days following this initial freezing weather. Traffic in Houston is notoriously dangerous at such times. Fortunately, with even more businesses closed because of Presidents’ Day, let alone because of the ongoing pandemic, it was easy for most citizens to comply with these instructions.

However, without electricity and access to a smart-phone, Karen and I could not use the normal electronic alternatives to keep us occupied. Reading next to a window was one available option. Another one was to catch catnaps in a comfortable chair, while surrounded with a cozy blanket. The only problem with either recommendation was that my EZ-boy recliner needs external power to lower the leg-rest. It’s a challenge to get into or out of the chair when it remains in a reclining position. During one fifteen-second return of power, I was able to readjust my recliner for a more comfortable position. Karen’s operates, fortunately for her, with a built-in auxiliary battery. On the other hand, I was lucky that when our power was lost during the middle of the night, my adjustable bed was in a flat position. Hers was not.

Having only a non-functioning recliner to deal with, I was very fortunate while under attack by Snovid-21. Many other Texans have suffered so much more from this onslaught. People throughout the state have much to complain about regarding ERCOT’s mismanaged electric grid. Others still have non-potable water. Many have homes which will be under “remediation” for months, if not years.

Within the last weeks, three anti-viral drugs have been approved for use toward the prevention of COVID-19. Karen and I, along with some eleven hundred people affiliated with Eagle’s Trace, have been vaccinated. On the other hand, there is no vaccine available to ward off another Snovid-21 attack, should one come again. It is said that our frigid weather in this part of the country is a one-hundred-year event. They have said the same thing about our floods, which now appear annually! One hundred years pass more quickly than they once did.

Time, itself, does not vary. Grains of sand pass through the middle of a figure-8 glass at a constant rate, be they measured in minutes or hours. Drops of water in an ancient water-clock move at a fixed number per unit of time. The duration from one new-moon sliver, when a white thread becomes visible in the darkness, to the next new-moon sliver, remains constant over a year composed of twelve moon cycles, even if the planet’s rotation around the sun takes a few days longer than that. The perception of time, however, varies. The conditions for this variation are not fixed. This is the case for this time of coronavirus.

A year ago, Karen and I stopped attending Eucharistic liturgies at Epiphany of the Lord in Katy, Texas. The Archdiocese of Houston limited weekend masses throughout its territory, because of the risk of viral infections during the services. We searched for an on-line or “streaming” mass and, after examining several possible sites, finally settled on one originating at St Anthony of Padua in The Woodlands, Texas. The sanctuary photographed well; the homilist was usually acceptable, in both what he had to say and how he said it.

Our weekly at-a-distance participation occurred for an entire year. Finally, with the administration of two doses of Pfizer vaccine, and with the modification in the guidelines for assemblies for mass within the Archdiocese, we returned to attendance at the five-thirty Eucharistic celebration at Epiphany, almost one year following our self-imposed exile.

We had been absent for fifty weeks. Sitting there, before the liturgy began, it felt to me as if only a single week had passed. The purple altar cloth was still there, as it had been during each service in every previous Lent. The only visible change consisted of white ribbons blocking entrance to every other pew. Social distancing was to be maintained. The masked congregation spoke the same responses, used for two millennia in one language or another. There was a cantor without a choir to lead members of the community in song, now muffled slightly more than at a regular Saturday evening liturgy in the past.

Time is the interval between two events. The flow of time is constant. But the perception of time’s passage vanishes upon returning home. I have also had ths same perception when I would return to the Jesuit Retreat Center in Grand Coteau, Louisiana, for my annual Ignatian week-long silent meditations. I would drive onto the grounds, enter the foyer of the House and feel as if I had never left it. I had an identical encounter when I returned to Epiphany, having been gone, physically, for an entire year. This was, indeed, the feeling, the sense of, returning home. Yes, being home is being in the place which you never really left, no matter how long you have been away from it.

Homeward bound is the feeling of warmth one experiences when returning to a place of comfort. On the other hand, you can return to the place where you have lived and yet not be homeward bound. Home is not a geographic location associated with your past. Homeward bound is not merely to be headed toward a place where you once lived, but rather being “bound,” being united, being at oneness with the place at which you arrive, the place you desire never to leave.

Being homeward bound is being timeless; there is no perception that time has passed. What has occurred continues to occur. Being at home is continuing a conversation with a friend in the exact moment the two of you parted months or years ago. Nothing has been lost; nothing needs to be regained.

When this occurred with my return to Epiphany, I was very surprised. I had not realized how much “at home” I had become with this place. This feeling has been manifested upon my return to other religious locations – the Retreat Center at Grand Coteau and Christ the Good Shepherd in Spring – come to mind. For secular places, there is our current apartment at Eagle’s Trace with its homeward bound feeling experienced after a visit to places where relatives and friends reside.

I also recall places where I would have expected to feel “at home” but did not. Once, I had been visiting in Niles when I saw a newspaper ad that my grandparents’ house was up for sale. I was able to convince the realtor I would like to see the place even if I had no intention of buying a house in my hometown. During the walkthrough, I remembered what each room had once held, what events had occurred within them. But I did not feel “at home” regardless of having spent considerable time there in my younger days.

There had also been a visit when I happened to drive by my parent’s former house on Seneca Street and saw that a construction crew was tearing out its interior as part of a major remodeling. Once again, having convinced the workers that I had lived there during my teenage years and would like to see it for a few minutes, I was able to walk through rooms where my life had existed, and my dreams had faded. Although I could recall each location in the house, I failed to be at home in any of them.

However, I am able to be homeward bound in my memories, in my imagination. There are recollections of sitting at my cousin’s kitchen table drinking coffee with her, with her husband, George, and my wife, Karen. Although Rosemary died almost fifty years ago, I still am at home with my memories of those hours spent in pleasant conversation.

Memory has its own perception of time – of events long ago that still exist as vividly, perhaps even more so, than those lived only an hour ago. It is with this perception of time that I can return home. It is with this legacy of memories that I remain homeward bound.