Washing hotel patrons' loose change |
Somewhat to my surprise, the end-of-the-world, God'll-get-you-for-that constituency has remained relatively silent. In fact, although there may be prayers galore from those inclined to pray, it seems not to have affected or afflicted the mainstream ... yet. Maybe these people are saving up their toldjaso's for another time.
Donald Trump, the liar in chief of the most powerful nation on earth, must be miffed as a wet cat that he can't buy his way out of this one. As president, he is tits on a bull as the election rush of 2020 segues into background noise. He is not a leader and is not a consequential informer. Mostly, if I get it right, he is ignored in favor of scientists who seem to know which way is "up." People are frightened ... no proximity with those whose proximity is longed for; not enough equipment for those who desperately need equipment; patients clogging hospital hallways; deaths mounting among those -- especially the elderly -- with underlying heart and lung conditions.
During WWI, I believe I read, more American soldiers crammed into troop ships and bound for Europe were killed by the "Spanish flu" than died on any subsequent battlefield and the leaders of the U.S. knew it was happening. Proximity then like proximity now ... oy vey.
My younger son returned from his job as a hospital security guard last night to announce he had come into contact with someone who was infected. I am not worried. When you think of the number of transmitters available (think money, for example), is there really an opposite to "proximate?"
Were the upscale hotels prescient or priggish when they washed patrons' loose change?
PS. it's March 27, 2020. Green is beginning to warm the trees on this spring-like day. There has been exactly one snow storm of any consequence this year.
A lovely day here as well. I raked the garden, wondering if I would be here for another harvest. Not as advanced in age as you, but getting there.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the photo of the Calvin. I remember movies there, back in the sixties, when I read Elizabethan drama with your father. At the end of our seminar he would serve us crackers, smoked cheese, and sherry. Those were the days.
PS He served us paella at the very end of our course, Kyd's 'Spanish Tragedy' having been our last assignment. Some of us had not had saffron before. He was a gracious host and an excellent chef. You must have grown up eating well.
ReplyDeleteRefined cooking is in the mouth of the cook. As a kid, all I longed for was a straightforward hamburger and some mashed potatoes. All those French sauces and lah-di-dah purring could take a hike. :)
ReplyDeleteStill ... "sherry" -- what a genteel ring it has. And my father was unlikely to allow anyone to overlook his culinary skills ... a habit (not allowing others to overlook) I dislike now as I disliked then.
Ouch. Guess I struck a nerve. Still, my memories of those times make me happy now. But of course I was his student, not his child.
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