More Thoughts, More Musings for Sunday, October 4, 2020: More Notes from My Fortress of Solitude
Hello – yet again – and welcome to my third post for this dismally gray, rainy, and cold Sunday. It’s now early afternoon, and although it is not pouring cats and dogs outside, it is still raining. Presently, the temperature outside is 75˚F (24˚C) under – no surprise there – rainy skies. The wind is still blowing from the northeast at 9 MPH/14 KPH, and humidity levels are at 92%. I don’t see or hear any heavy amounts of precipitation; in fact, it even looks like the rain is clearing out and way from our neighborhood in Some Town in Florida. But with no one here to tell “Hey, guys, I’m going out for a walk, so please don’t lock the front door!” – I mean, one of the college-age kids might be in his or her room, but the doors are closed – I don’t dare venture out even if the Sun decides to peep through the mass of gray clouds overhead.
According to my PC’s handy Weather app, I can see a composite radar/satellite map. It shows that Tropical Storm Gamma – one of four churning in the Atlantic Ocean and its huge arm, the Gulf of Mexico – is sending its extra moisture to the State of Florida, including the metro area where I live.
So even if it is not raining outside now, and even if I could tell one of my caregiver’s three young adult kids that I’m going out for a brief walk as I did yesterday, I don’t dare. Sure, we are not experiencing thunderstorms or anything more than a light but persistent rain, but with the flu season about to start and the COVID-19 pandemic still ongoing, I do not want to get soaked to the bone – like I did 32 years ago in Seville! – and get sick.
And I so badly wanted to go out and at least see something beyond a computer screen, or a TV set, or any of my books, to be honest with you. I feel so trapped here – and in more ways than one, at that. A walk outside – or even the act of reading on a nice park bench for an hour – would not have solved my relationship issues or helped me find a new home that I could afford to maintain on my own. But, damnit…it might have eased my feelings of being a recluse.
On the Other Hand….
Earlier this week I received a package all the way from Missoula, Montana, which is where Mrs. Phyllis Salesky, a retired English teacher who taught at South Miami High for many years, lives with her husband now that they are both retired.
Mrs. Salesky – or “Tia Phyllis,” as I call her fondly – was not one of my teachers; by a sad twist of timing, I missed being one of her journalism students by one academic year when I was a 10th grader at South Miami. We became friends several years ago on Facebook, and although we don’t interact too much on the Social Network, she and I sometimes talk about books and films, particularly those that deal with World War II in the Pacific. Her dad served in the Navy during the war, a fact I learned when I shared – I think – one of my reviews about the 1950s TV series Victory at Sea.
Anyway, after I shared another review with Tia Phyllis – I think it was the one on Twilight of the Gods by Ian W. Toll – she private-messaged me and asked me if I wanted her copies of Herman Wouk’s World War II duology, The Winds of War and War and Remembrance. I read those years ago: first in my mom’s collection of Reader’s Digest Condensed Books hardbacks, then in their complete unabridged editions as a loan from my late ex-neighbor George Dijkstra back in the 1980s when ABC aired the miniseries based on The Winds of War.
Well, I received the Priority Mail 2-Days package on Thursday afternoon, but the deep sadness that I feel over my current situation has cast a pall over everything, so I have not opened it yet. I did, of course, thank Mrs. Salesky for her generous and kind gift. It’s nice to see that there are still good and thoughtful friends out there.
As soon as I finish this third post on WordPress I will open the box, remove the books, and find a good spot for them. And if I can motivate myself to do so, maybe I’ll start browsing through The Winds of War.
Anything to chase the blues away, my friends.