Since this blog is coming back to life, is the same true of me? One hopes. Two hope also, such as my brother and his wife who just got coronavirus vaccinations. Hard to say why these are apparently more or less readily available in Seattle but not here in San Francisco. But in another dimension, it’s not hard at all. We will be living with the aftermath of the Trump era for a long time. The rest of my life, probably. And that aftermath will entail malfeasance, confusion, violence…and relief. 

As for vaccine availability, aside from the logistical incompetence of the ancien régime, there is the overall situation. No, I lie. When it comes to COVID-19, nothing is overall. This matter has been delegated to the states, if that is the word. So, it’s every province for itself, as it were. And with the virus roaring out of control in certain neighborhoods of Los Angeles, what the hell. Let the sick people have the vaccinations.

Something in me is deeply tired of reading polemical articles about this or that. And something in me is deeply addicted. I cannot stop. The imagination needs to soar, the spirit to run free. And what am I looking at but newspapers and magazines of political opinion, and so on? Not to mention my current non-fiction read, ”Shadowlands.” Remember the south eastern Oregon invasion of the militia bros? The attack on the Malheur Wildlife Refuge? The book is about that. 400 pages about that. And the very length makes it a sort of triumph. The book is written by a man who is, improbably, a poet. Clearly he is also a very accomplished and experienced journalist. The book is full of insights and frequently direct quotes gleaned from the militia people responsible for the 2015 invasion of the nature reserve. But clearly the author has a great feel for the land. I have a sort of instinctive feel for it too. I grew up in the desert at the base of tall snowy mountains, and know the odd appeal of arid lands where water appears magically. 

There is some possibility that the pandemic will end. No. That’s silly. It’s going to end. It’s not going to end fairly, but that could’ve been predicted. It’s going to end because I am in a rich country, in a rich city, have healthcare, and will get a shot in the not too distant future. My family in the UK have all gotten their ‘jabs‘. And it won’t be long for me. What then?

Jane says that she wants to have people over for dinner. Again and again. And me? I want to get on public transit and go to the outdoor farmers market in San Francisco’s Civic Center. I want to stare at the vegetables, buy a couple, maybe get a tamale and sit down with my friend Stephen whom I haven’t seen face-to-face for about nine months. Perhaps longer. What else? Lunch with many other friends. And some trips. Some exciting trips, like out to San Francisco’s Ocean Beach. Or even, dare I say it, hopping aboard the suburban Caltrain and heading for brunch or breakfast in exciting Menlo Park. Exotic Menlo Park, land of my dreams.

Will I be up for the challenge? It will take some courage to venture into any of these areas. Certainly I will go well armed with facemasks. After all, the warning is that I may not be infected, but may in fact be infectious. I have to be a responsible person. Still, I can imagine getting used to having brunch outside in one of my old haunts in the suburbs, a Menlo Park café that has only survived the pandemic because of civic response, that is to say, crowdfunding. Which is one of the more positive signs of the times. After all, this particular café must’ve done very well before it lost all of its business. In fact, in the suburban center where I used to live, there was really nothing like it. Good to hear that the local citizenry chipped in to keep the thing going.

Can we do the same for the nation? That’s the question hanging over Shadowlands. The passions inflamed by the American right aren’t about to go away. I’m not about to go away either. I think a decent country is worth a decent fight. I guess that’s why I keep reading and reading about the national life and times. This is my time too, until it isn’t.