The new mini ice age, or, the year there was no summer

I remember when we used to have joy in our lives

Fight fight fight. Don’t give up. Let’s carry on the revolution for RBG.

As I walked into city hall today, I heard live music. It was a cello and a flute, warming up for something.

I almost didn’t recognize it. I haven’t heard live music since February. I have not heard live music in over six months.

It brought me to tears.

We have lost so much.

We have lost so much because of the poor leadership of this country.

We have lost over 200,000 lives, which is the biggest tragedy of all.

We have lost businesses. People have lost their livelihoods.

We have lost hellos and goodbyes and celebrations and laments and our summer and joy and collective sorrow and we have lost everything. EVERYTHING.

And it did not have to be this way.

Mr T and I are very lucky. I know that.

But even with that, even with not getting sick or with having already lost my job for non-covid reasons so I can’t blame that on the current soon to be ex I hope president, even with being lucky, we did not attend the wedding of the daughter of one of my best friends. We watched it on zoom.

We did not attend the funeral of my friend who died in July.

We did not go to my uncle’s funeral this week – we watched it on zoom.

We did not go to a single concert this summer.

Nobody did.

We did not go to a single festival.

Nobody did.

We did not go to the state fair.

Nobody did.

We will not go to our college class reunion.

Nobody will.

We have seen one set of friends once – we sat in our driveway.

The husband of my friend who died in July came over last night and we sat in the driveway and it was lovely, but it was cold. We are not going to be able to do that much longer. We don’t dare risk having people indoors. I am volunteering at city hall, which means I am around a lot of people, so I don’t want to expose anyone else.

Our friends T and S, from college, called us last night. They saw something I had written on facebook and were laughing about it. T and S are in Chicago right now, getting ready to sell their house their. We had talked about visiting them the next time they were in town and in the excitement of the moment, decided we would go there this weekend.

We realized it would be the first visit with college friends since last winter.

And then this morning, we realized we couldn’t go to their house, cook dinner, and spend the night. We couldn’t expose them to my city hall germs. We couldn’t do it. We won’t go after all.

I know it’s a small thing and that many people are suffering greatly.

But at the base, all of us are suffering at least this much – we all lost our summer. We lost our celebrations. We lost graduations. We lost weddings. We lost the 4th of July. We lost our funerals. We lost visiting our friends and family.

And we lost if because the president of this country knew what was going on and lied to us and refused to lead.

And, as I write this, I see that Ruth Bader Ginsberg has died.

We are losing everything.

Vote. Vote. Vote.

 

5 thoughts on “The new mini ice age, or, the year there was no summer

  1. This is very well written, as always. I am also very lucky, but I have lost my chance to go see my grandson be born. I lost the chance to interact with my co-workers this year, my last year before retirement. I’ve lost the trip to Italy that we planned for 4 years as a retirement celebration. I’ve lost a dearly beloved friend to Covid – and lost the chance to comfort his family at the funeral.

    And I now I fear I’ll be losing my chance to buy health coverage if the push to pack the supreme court with conservatives does, as we fear, result in our loss of the ACA. I’m a long time insulin dependent diabetic age 62 – no insurance company will want to cover me if they are not forced to do so. So I’ll either pay out heaven only knows how much if I can find any company willing to cover me – or risk my entire life savings to go without insurance until I’m Medicare age. And pray that there is a Medicare there for me at age 65.

    And I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve worked hard and saved hard and I just might, if I’m lucky, come out of this all okay.

    I’ll be voting, you can be sure. And praying for us all.

    Like

    1. So much loss. I am so sorry.

      And I am terrified about the possible loss of ACA as well. I have many friends who would be horribly harmed. We are on our 8th month of COBRA – what are we supposed to do when that runs out if one of us hasn’t found a job? BTW – there are not a lot of jobs out there right now.

      VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE.

      Like

  2. Texan, I’m so glad you and Mr. T will be voting in Wisconsin. I toyed with the idea of switching my registration when we were at my parents’ house this summer, but my real residence is in New York and we’re back in New York and I’m an honest person and so all my vote will do is–hopefully–contribute to a tsunami of a popular vote.

    Like

      1. you’re right, he has no shame whatsoever, but some of his enablers still have a tiny bit of shame, and a popular vote tsunami would force them to disavow him and make it harder for him to garner support to fight the outcome. This is what I am praying for.

        Like

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