I look up from my slightly chilly outdoors breakfast at Cup Café to see the proprietor Sam approaching from the opposite direction, that has to say, up the block from his front door. He tells me that a customer has left something behind. What he doesn’t tell me is how he knows where the customer is or might be. But that’s Sam. This neighborhood is his neck of the urban woods. And I am glad for it. I am also glad that he has wandered my way just as I was about to make my way down to the next stop, Canyon Market. He snaps my container of cantaloupe pieces shut while I turn to him as if we’re making casual conversation.

“I am so tired of this pandemic.”

He assures me that things are looking up. He thinks. Maybe. Whatever, Sam is inherently optimistic, almost bubbly with his customer attention. And I just need some sort of reassurance. That I am not going slightly mad. That I am also not completely spoiled, although this is only partly true. Because wasn’t it only half an hour before that Dennis, my morning helper, and I made our way to the local Postal Depot Inc., a business that fronts for the US Postal Service, United Parcel Service, FedEx and so on. I observed that our parents and grandparents…I am unsure of Dennis’ age…had a much worst time of it with World War II. Dennis, from the Philippines, must have heard all sorts of war stories, as did I. And behind the stories is a much more bitter tail of sacrifice, deprivation and horror, which make the current inconvenience of masks and vaccinations seem like more or less nothing. Yes, Dennis says, this is nothing.

And now, seated outside in the February chill of Cup, what am I expecting from Sam? Is it really validation? Do I think he has any special insight? No. It’s just hearing my own question rattle around. At least with someone present, there is the sound of the actual rattling. Otherwise, my words are like a Zen problem falling over in the forest with no one to hear.

And as with all problems, or all deprivations, challenges and so on, there are lessons. And what is this one? Maybe that regardless of other people’s response, we do have certain options. We can live in ways that embrace others, or we can withdraw. And with the social fabric more crucial than ever, withdrawing doesn’t seem a viable option. Just look at the so-called weather. Whether it is weather or climate change being the question. And the answer? Cooperate. Think about something slightly bigger than yourself.

And in terms of what that looks like, well, hard to say as an old guy except to get on the exercycle each morning and watch all eight hours of Dopesick, Hulu’s series on the Sacklers, Purdue Pharma and the poisoning of America. Or more precisely, the poisoning of Appalachia. It’s a splendid series. Michael Keaton does the usual fine job. But most amazing is the fact that it is a fact, of recent American history. Every event, every character, even the lines, come from documents. Court records. Interviews. It all happened. And, my God, what a disappointing reality. The US Department of Justice is revealed to be a bunch of careerists more interested in their possible futures in the corporate pharmaceutical job market then in doing, you know, their job. Even worse, of course, is the FDA. And sadly, it’s all legal. And it’s all corrupt. And although the American proletariat may act out in ways that are self-destructive, undermining of national respect, and so on. They are in their inchoate way expressing rage at a system that is indeed rigged. So let them take their Ivermectin, the horse parasite drug popular among Trumpists. That’s all they can think of doing, let them do it. The quality of mercy is never strained. Even if my patience is. While I try to remember that even when the pandemic is “over,” all this other stuff won’t be. Cheery thought, but there you have it.