A gut punch, and God bless
THE sun came up over a different America Thursday, the day after a mob stormed the nation’s Capitol, the temple of democracy—our house—occupied it and held it hostage. Unbelievable and disgraceful acts of insurrection and sedition unfolded before our eyes. This is our homeland; what the hell is happening?
Still stunned and reeling, hours later the backbone of America stiffened, and a country that has risen up time and time again started to right itself. A cleanup of broken glass and damage had begun as Congress re-entered the hall to ratify Joe Biden and Kamala Harris as the 46th U.S. President and Vice President. Lawless acts weren’t a surprise; for weeks we felt increasing tremors emanating from the White House. But the eruption was no less shocking. Depressing. Heartbreaking. This column was done before all hell broke loose. I cut parts of it because I felt a need to express… something. The rest are items from a saner time—like last week. I’m hurting from a gut punch. Like all of us, I will heal. We have a history of overcoming the enemy, even when the enemy is within. God Bless America.
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THE older I get, the more I think the year should end at 8:30 instead of midnight; I can’t stay up that late anymore. We calm Golden Gracie as early mortars sound off. We soak a bowl of dried black eyed peas for dinner on New Year’s Day, blow out our hurricane lanterns and call it a day on the past year. I have learned that, to the people of the South, like Lisa from Alabama, black eyed peas on NY’s Day has been considered good luck for 1,500 years. That would explain a lot, if rumors were true, that two Georgia candidates for U.S. Senate were on a diet of black eyed peas, three times a day.
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“WHAT better way to spend my last Christmas at FedEx, hauling Hope and Cheer in a big purple plane with a red nose.” So texted Vacaville FedEx captain Jimmy Rollison as his freighter was being loaded with COVID vaccine and 1,400 pounds of dry ice. His “last Christmas at FedEx” speaks to his 34-year career flying MD-11s, and such. He’s a retirement short timer. I asked for his take on the airlift. “Everyone is really on their game, the likes of which I haven’t seen in my 34 years,” he said with obvious team pride.
I’M in good shape for the shape I’m in. Thus, I may have to wait months for my turn. The NY Times published a Find Your Place in the Vaccine Line calculator. Answers to a few questions are fed into a computer, like age, residence, exposure. I answered. My wait time came back:
“Based on your risk profile, we believe you’re in line behind 118.5 million people across the U.S. In California, we think you’re behind 12.3 million others who are at higher risk. In Solano County, you’re behind 139,700.” If all goes well, I may score a shot by the time I reach 99.
GETTING vaccine to the people is anything but a well- oiled machine. To add to that, some are balking because of a fear of possible side effects. They need assurance. We have long been starstruck by personalities of stage, screen and TV. Bring them on now. Train the cameras on the likes of Morgan Freeman, Meryl Streep, Robert Redford, Viola Davis, Lucy Liu getting a virus shot, with thumbs up.
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SHAWN Lum came down from her mountain home for the holidays. That would be Mt. Whitney, tallest in the lower 48, and the sentinel for tiny Lone Pine at its base. More than two years ago she became director of Lone Pine Film History Museum after 30 years as our museum director. Now she archives westerns and Star Wars scenes, in a galaxy far, far away. But not so far that COVID couldn’t find it. It’s there, she said. There’s a clinic in the village; a hospital an hour’s drive. Its cafes and shops are hurting. So is her museum. After visiting mom Anna Lee Binder here, Shawn has gone back up. It takes true grit to live there, but more difficult to leave with a full moon snagged on Whitney’s peak. It is its own movie.