Carrying On

There are no more words to write

The hero is now gone.

We must pull together, to stand and fight, 

For we must carry on...

-S. O'Herlihy 

In the calculus of what this pandemic has cost to date, we speak in terms of lives lost, and we paint pictures using broad strokes.  The point of emphasis is on the aggregate.  The devil, however, is in the details. 

Men and women, every day, perform extraordinary tasks in the service of saving, serving, and protecting those who they do not know, who they would not know but for this crisis causing their paths to cross, and in whose company they shall not likely again be once life returns to normal or a reasonable facsimile thereof.  

COVID-19 has thus far infected more than 1,000,000 Americans.  As of April 28th, more than 50,000 Americans had died from it.  I believe the total number of fatalities reported is low.  I do not know specifically by how much.  I do know however that it is at least two. 

Lorna Breen, M.D., was the Director of Emergency Department at New York-Presbyterian Allen Hospital in Manhattan.  Her father analogized what his daughter did day in, day out to being on a battlefield.  "She was truly in the trenches on the front line", Philip C. Breen, M.D. said.  He spoke the truth. His daughter, forty-nine years young, battled shoulder-to-shoulder with her colleagues against COVID-19.  As is the case in trench warfare, the in-fighting is fierce and the consequences are devastating. While leading the fight against COVID-19, Dr. Lorna Breen herself was infected by the virus.  She spent only about ten days recuperating at home before she returned to the fray.  Worried about her, her hospital sent her home again and her family, including her dad, prevailed upon her to come stay with them in Charlottesville, Virginia. 

This past Sunday, April 26, 2020, Dr. Breen took her own life.  The elder Dr. Breen, speaking of his daughter, noted that she had no history of mental illness or depression.  He also observed that his daughter had tried to her job and doing so had killed her.  He is being modest.  She did far more that "try".  She was, and is, a hero.  

John Mondello, a rookie EMT with the FDNY, took his own life on Friday, April 24, 2020.  He was three months out of the Academy.  Mondello spent his too-brief FDNY career assigned to the Tactical Response Group out of EMS Station 18 in the Claremont section of the Bronx, which section is among New York City's busiest for 9-1-1 calls.  His father, John Mondello, Sr., is a retired member of the NYPD.  

Life as a rookie EMT with the FDNY is stressful.  It is a job, by description, which can be nothing less.  These days, however, it is incomparably so.  Shortly before he took his own life, John Mondello confided to a close friend that he was not only experiencing a lot of death but that he was deeply affected by it, feeling at times as if he had "failed" to save a life. 

He of course never failed to save a life.  There simply were patients who, in spite of EMT Mondello's best efforts, he could not save.  No doubt, however, such a distinction is more easily demarcated when one has the dual advantages of time and distance.  There, in the moment and then, again, in the next, EMT Mondello had neither.  He was only twenty-three.  He was - and is - a hero.  

-AK 

Meet Him at Mary's Place

My heart’s dark but it’s risin’

I’m pulling all the faith I can see

From that black hole on the horizon

I hear your voice calling me.

-“Mary’s Place”

(Bruce Springsteen)

Pat Roddy (and his eponymous Band) has been a fixture on the Jersey Shore music scene for more than two decades.  As he says himself on his website, "When Roddy isn't drinking in bars, he is playing in them..."  In ordinary times, his website would offer you a wide range of establishments, both in New Jersey and in New York City, where you could enjoy an adult beverage or two while Roddy plays and, thereafter, perhaps share an adult beverage or two with him after the show.  

These are, of course, anything but ordinary times, which is why the "Shows" page on Roddy's website is as barren as the paper products aisle in practically every supermarket here in the State of Concrete Gardens less than an hour after it opens for the day.  Being a Jersey guy, Pat Roddy is not spending all of his awake time bemoaning his fate.  Not even close.  

Every Wednesday evening since March 25, Pat Roddy has performed live on Facebook- from his living room in Belmar.  He started doing it as an entertainment for his fans and, probably, as an elixir for his own sanity. In literally no time, he found a higher purpose for it.  So have his fans. 

The Pat Roddy Wednesday Night Concert From Home Series (a name I just coined for it without solicitation and without expectation of compensation) has to date been dedicated to raising money for Fulfill (formerly known at the Community Food Bank of Monmouth County), Interfaith Neighbors, an Asbury Park homelessness-focused non-profit, and Gilda's Club, a New York City cancer-focused non-profit.  Roddy's two shows benefiting Fulfill raised more than $14,000, which Fulfill used to provide 42,300 meals to the needy and food-poor in Monmouth County.  His April 8 show raised  more than $7,000 for Interfaith Neighbors and, last week, his concert raised more than $10,000 for Gilda's Club.   

Tonight's concert is dedicated to raising money for Mary's Place by the Sea in Ocean Grove.  Mary's Place is, itself, an extraordinary facility of whose existence, I am constrained to admit I was unaware, until reading about it and learning of it from Brooke's great friend Casey, a bad-ass Jersey girl who calls Ocean Grove home and who shares my unhealthy love of the New York Rangers.  

Pat Roddy's concert streams live tonight on Facebook at 7:00 pm Eastern Time.  If you have the chance, tune in and meet him at Mary's Place.  Remember, of course, to turn it up...

...and to let it rain. 

-AK   

The Dope is That There is Still Hope

Memorial Day is four weeks from today.

I know what it normally is and I love it,

and I hope it can be some form of that.

-New Jersey Governor Phil Murphy 

I applaud Governor Murphy for the manner in which he has mandated us New Jerseyans respond to the COVID-19 pandemic.  Do I enjoy being ordered to shelter-in-place? No.  Do I wish I was permitted unfettered access to my home in Lake Como and the boardwalk and beaches in Belmar, which I am not, because it is not my primary residence? Yes.  Do I have empathy for families truly suffering, whether physically, financially, or both, to a degree far beyond that I have experienced?  Yes.  

Governor Murphy's solution has not been a perfect one.  It was not - and is not - promised to be.  A wise person once told me that, "Perfect is the enemy of good."  I believe that his solution has been a good one.  Yesterday, in his daily COVID-19 briefing, he gave us a glimmer of hope.  

At this point in the program, a glimmer means a lot to me.  

Forgive me, I must depart. I have a bus to catch...

-AK 

Learning the Secret to Shopping Happily

Saturday morning I did my weekly grocery shopping run.  It has actually become a somewhat fun undertaking since I have picked up shopping for Suzanne/Ryan's household as well as ours.  The degree to which my daughter and son-in-law eat healthier than the Missus and I do has been fully revealed to me these past few weeks as I look for items Suzanne has on her shopping list that I have never seen on ours.  It is a multi-purpose exercise. It keeps my daughter and son-in-law out of the store and it gives me something new to do.  

Apropos of nothing, I have noticed these past few Saturdays how many men, shopping solo, have picked up the mantle of "family shopper".  In addition to our gloves and our masks each of us is armed with a shopping list.  Given that preparing a shopping list is on the medal stand right beneath asking for directions on the "Things Men Do Not Voluntarily Do" list, it is fairly easy to spot my married brethren.  It is also fairly easy to surmise how long one of my fellow travelers has been married by seeing how he behaves in the store.  

I was in the aisle that has dairy products (block cheese, shredded cheese, and yogurt) on one side and bread on the other when I came upon a relatively-new husband.  He was actively engaged in some sort of video chat (Face Time, I presume) with his wife while he was looking for bread.  My choice of preposition here is deliberate.  The bread aisle looked in large part as if it had been mistaken for the toilet paper aisle with large swaths of empty space where loaves usually are neatly stacked. 

Based upon the conversation I overheard between this husband and his life's one true love, she had directed him to buy a loaf of Arnold bread.  He had one problem carrying out that directive:  There was no Arnold bread to be bought.  Not a single loaf.  At some point, him telling her that failed to resonate with her.  As I approached him, the couple's conversation became "spirited".  So much so in fact that he moved the phone away from his face, turned it around so that his wife could see the bread shelves for herself.  Then, in a move proving once again that stupidity is indeed the flip side of valor, he crouched down in front of the empty shelves, gestured dramatically with his other hand (the phone-free one) and quite loudly said, "See? There is no bread! Do you believe me now?"

I passed him in one direction while a fellow marriage veteran whose name I do not know but with whom I share Saturday morning shopping duties passed him in the other.  As our paths crossed, I tossed him a "get a load of this guy" look while gesturing in the direction of the newbie.  In response, he said simply, "Rookie".  We both laughed, shook our heads, and kept to our appointed rounds.  

-AK

Happy Birthday to the Gift-Giver

The greatest gift-giver I have ever known celebrates a birthday today.  My brother Bill, the tip of the spear of the sextet of Kenny siblings, is today's birthday boy.  Presumably, social distancing rules shall prevent him from having the long hoped-for, not-yet-realized celebratory pony ride.  Next year, perhaps. 

I was not yet two years old when Bill taught me to read.  But he did far more.  He taught me not simply to read, but to comprehend, and to think critically.  He taught me how important it is to not just read for content but, also, to listen for content too.  He taught me that while it is happiness's pursuit that gets a star turn in Mr. Jefferson's Declaration it is knowledge's pursuit that makes all the difference.  

Knowledge is power.  It provides you with a weapon in the fight against ignorance and mendacity.  There is not - and shall never be - a day in your life when it is not critically important.  A lesson we have learned, painfully, thus far in 2020.  

May Bill's birthday be a happy one.  He certainly deserves nothing less.  Much love and much thanks, big brother, for everything.  

-AK 

Twenty Faces of Hope

Twenty Faces of Hope

My daughter, Suzanne, is a Speech Language Pathologist specializing in early intervention. She has a seriously big brain.  I know she does not get that from me. You need not point that out.  

She also has a seriously big heart.  Yes, I am aware that she does not get that from me either.  That fact makes me no less proud of her - and her fellow SLPs - for pooling their resources and providing some much-needed emotional therapy to the families they serve and with whom they work.  

Great stuff.  Exceptional in fact.  As is the SLP in Square 11 (third row down, third square from left) who, along with her nineteen tremendous colleagues, reminded their clients and all of us that it is indeed the little things that count...

...and that, especially in times like these, there is no such thing as a little thing.

-AK

Just So Many Shades of Gray

Now the hardness of this world

Slowly grinds your dreams away

Making a fool's joke 

Out of the promises we make

And what seemed black and white 

Turns just so many shades of gray

We lose ourselves in work to do,

Work to do and bills to pay...

-Bruce Springsteen

Always bills to pay, right?  COVID-19 has wreaked havoc on our day-to-day but it has not affected that one piece of it.  Not for me at least.  If notifications have arrived from the mortgage company, the utility company, etc. then I must confess, I have missed them.  And I have searched for them, I assure you.  Vigorously, in fact. 

I have spent the past quarter-century earning my living in the practice of law.  My industry has been affected by COVID-19.  Not merely in the manner law is presently being practiced but, also, by whom.  A number of large firms, known colloquially as "BIG LAW" have enacted a variety of measures with an eye towards ensuring their doors remain open to serve their clients now and after this is finally over. Some of those measures have included postponement of bonuses, reduction of salaries, and elimination of positions.  Personally, I know several very talented attorneys who have lost their jobs during this pandemic because of COVID-19's economic impact.  I know not how they will make it through to the other side of this. Worse for them of course, is that right not neither do they. 

To date, COVID-19 has not cost me my job.  I commend the Firm's managing partner, Mark Tabakin, and my fellow partners and associates for continuing to do what we do during this period. I neither see nor speak to any of them most days - an arrangement that pleases me and makes them fucking over the moon giddy - but I presume that they spend their day-to-day as I spend mine. I work.  Twelve-plus hours a day.  COVID-19 has changed where I work. It has not changed the need for me to work.  That need is what it is, which is a constant.   Work to do and bills to pay.  As you do, I have both. 

Tonight, the sun shall set.  Heads and pillows shall meet at their point of blissful intersection. We shall have won today. Each of us. All of us...

But the stars are burning bright

Like some mystery uncovered,

I'll keep moving through the dark

With you in my heart

My blood brother...

-Bruce Springsteen    

-AK 

   

The Gospel According to Emil

"Knowledge is Good"

-Emil Faber

Late Tuesday, the Santa Clara, California Medical Examiner confirmed that two county residents who died in their homes in early February were infected with COVID-19, which finding is significant for several reasons, including (a) both died weeks before what had been believed to be the first COVID-19 death in the United States; and (b) both contracted COVID-19 without any documented travel history, meaning they did not go to where the virus lived, the virus came to where they lived. 

The first of the two February deaths in Santa Clara, California happened on February 6, 2020, which is less than eighty days ago.  In that brief period, COVID-19 has killed more than forty thousand other Americans. Here in my home state, it has killed more than forty-five hundred New Jerseyans. It continues to attack various parts of the country with vigor, while appearing to have plateaued in other parts of the country.  

We the people of these United States are a people on edge.  We have every right to be.  Hell, we might need to go for a collective mental status exam were we not.  With very rare exceptions (and you lucky ducks who were alive for the 1918 Spanish Flu, I am looking at you) most of us have never lived through a global pandemic.  It has not simply turned our world upside down.  It has, thereafter, shaken it up, thrown it up against a wall, and kicked it down the road a spell, just for shits and giggles. 

As we have looked in every corner of our universe for the "How-To" manual on managing this crisis, both inside the four walls of our home, and in the common area we know as our world, we have discovered that "Pandemic Survival for Dummies" is not available for purchase.  Not even on Amazon.  Unlike Purell, its unavailability is not related to supply and demand. It is related to something exponentially more terrifying:  It does not exist. 

Do not be terrified.  Human beings are not only a supremely arrogant bunch of mother fuckers, we are a supremely intelligent bunch too.  Not me, per se.  Others.  As someone who sought refuge in the social sciences (B.A. in Political Science followed by a J.D.) in substantial part due to my profound limitations in all things mathematical and scientific, I have an extraordinary amount of respect for the men and women who dedicate their lives to such pursuits.  I have an even greater amount of belief in them and in their ability to problem-solve.  How do I get through my day-to-day and keep my wits about me?  I stay as well-informed as I can and I pay attention to what scientists are saying.  I shall abandon all hope only after they do.  

Spoiler Alert:  The solution to this problem will not come from the brain of a politician or an elected official.  It will come from the scientists, as it has in the past, and as it shall until we succumb to our arrogance and burn this planet to the ground.   

Thank you, Emil Faber. Knowledge is good.  

Indeed it is. 

-AK 

One Angry Mother

Is it just me or has the planet gotten your attention this year, too?  We the people of the earth, who have used, abused, and misused the resources of our home to the point that we have raised the temperature of its oceans, reduced the mass of its glaciers, and pushed countless other species to - and through - the point of extinction, have spent the first quarter of this year on the balls of our asses.  

Is the disease that has terrorized the planet, with the notable exception apparently of the state of Georgia, something that man himself made or is it something that Mother Nature cooked up herself and then introduced to man?  I do not pretend to know.  As far as I have read, a lot of really, really smart people, including Dr. Fauci and Dr. Birx, are not 100% certain of its origin either. 

Tangent/rhetorical question for residents of Georgia:  Are you willing to follow the directives of your Governor, who less than three weeks ago, admitted that he "had just learned" that asymptomatic people could spread the disease more than sixty days after the rest of the world had gained knowledge of that decidedly unhappy fact? 

Stay well.  Stay safe.  Whenever possible, stay home. 

-AK 

Perhaps Rule Number Two Should Be The Very First Rule

Apologies for playing the part of the dog with a bone, but I realized yesterday that I had not said nearly all I wanted to say on the intermingled subjects of leadership and a true leader doing what is right irrespective of whether it is popular. If you closed your eyes and envisioned the American president who represents the ideological opposite of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue's current tenant on those subjects, then either Harry S. Truman or Abraham Lincoln would likely occupy your mind's eye.  These days, we are a long way from either I fear.  

"A leader is somebody that can lift others into their better selves."  So said Mr. Lincoln, who spent the better part of his life proving the veracity of that statement.  Abraham Lincoln was a man who not only possessed a moral compass - or a rudder if you prefer - but a man who lived his life and who discharged his Constitutional duties as President of the United States according to it.  

We have proven in these United States that anyone, irrespective of qualities and qualifications, can be elected President.  I would argue that we have also proven that one's ability to get elected, when it is a particular candidate's most prominent attribute, is not in and of itself enough to make one worthy of the office.  I would argue that we could do much worse than making Rule Number Two the first rule by which we measure a prospective candidate's worthiness for elected office:

Rule Number Two

Pop Pop is an asshole.

In your lifetime you will encounter too many people for old, math-deficient Pop Pop to count who will tell you this about me. Do not argue the point.  Do not waste a breath defending me against the charge. They are correct. I am.  It is a character trait that I readily acknowledge. It is a character trait for which I offer no apology.

I do not apologize for it.  It is nothing for which an apology is required.  Pop Pop’s father, who was an even bigger asshole than Pop Pop, taught me when I was a little boy that life is not a popularity contest. It is a lesson that I took to heart. You should do likewise.

You should strive to bring value into your day-to-day and into the day-to-day of those you love and those with whom you interact day in and day out. Never deliberately do anyone a bad turn. If someone has deliberately done you a bad turn and you are uncomfortable about how to respond, then call Pop Pop.  I shall handle it.  I am an asshole, remember?

Doing what is right is far more important than doing what is popular. Focus on the former. Never give even a rat’s ass about the latter. The world is shoulder-deep in empty suits. Do not be one of them. You need not be universally loved but if you are universally respected, then even though some shall consider you an asshole, far more will recognize you for the good, stand-up person you are. 

At day’s end and at life’s end that is what matters. 

   

-AK

This Is No Time For Ice Cream

In times like these, real leadership is needed.  One who does not consult polling data before making a decision.  One who does what is right for the greater good.   One who appreciates his constitutional responsibilities and does not simply pander to his base by fomenting anger for what he perceives to be political gain.  

Americans are hurting right now.  Hundreds of thousands have fallen ill, tens of thousands have died, and millions have lost their jobs.  This is neither a Democrat thing nor a Republican thing.  This is neither a red thing nor a blue thing.  It is an American thing.  

Nobody wins unless everybody wins. 

-AK

Life is Better With a Dog

While I was out running with Sam I Am the other morning, my mind drifted back to a conversation more than a decade ago that I had had with one of my law partners regarding my preference for dogs over people.  He actually thought I was kidding when I told him that I liked dogs much more than I do people.  All these years later, he knows I am not. 

As a person given to solitary pursuits (running, writing, and reading among them), this forced respite from daily interaction with most of the rest of the world has not affected me to the degree it has most people, I believe.  Appreciating the fact that Margaret and Joe are much more social animals than I am, I try to make sure that each of them is doing as well as they can during this extraordinary, unprecedented time.  So far, each appears to be holding up fairly well. 

My mental health is aided immensely by Sam.  We rescued her in late March, 2018, roughly three weeks after our beloved Rosalita died.  No one is more surprised than I am by the hold Sam has had on my heart since we brought her home.  

For the past two years, she has borne witness to me leaving the house five to six days a week in the morning and not returning until after she keeps Margaret and Joe company home while they eat dinner.  However, since mid-March I have been home all day, every day.  It appears as if she has detected a disturbance in the force of her day-to-day.  So far, however, she has made the best of it.  Every now and again, she wanders down the hall during my work day to see what I am up to. 

Every day (unless it is raining) Sam and I play her favorite game, Dingo, in our back yard.  It has been said that you cannot put a price on happiness.  That being said, if you have a dog then might I suggest that you might not spend a better $11.00 than buying one through Chewy.com.  

Clearly, I am not the only person whose life is made better through canine companionship.  One of my favorite Buffs, Jenny Simpson, and her husband recently adopted a Jack Russell puppy, Truman.  She chronicles Truman's escapades on Instagram.  If you find yourself feeling a bit down, then spend a moment or two with Truman.  I think you will be happy you did. 

-AK 

An Extraordinary Joe

We here in the State of Concrete Gardens have been in the cross-hairs of COVID-19 for, approximately, the past forty-five days.  If you live here and, by this point, have little recollection of February and only vague memories and credit card statements to serve as reminders of Christmas, you affected recall is understandable.  Around here, it feels as if we have crammed a lot of time into the months of March and April.  A decade or two.  At least. 

Among those who have felt the brunt of this pandemic are the men and women who work in our state's hospitals and medical centers.  The toll on them, emotionally, physically, mentally, and psychologically is seemingly incalculable.  Then, a doctor, a nurse, or an EMT dies of COVID-19 and their colleagues, and all of us, are reminded that there is something even worse than their unending feeling of battle fatigue.  Something much, much worse. 

Francis Molinari, M.D. is one of New Jersey's fallen heroes.  Dr. Molinari fell ill while treating COVID-19 patients at the Meadowlands field hospital a few weeks ago.  He was admitted March 29, 2020 to Clara Maass Medical Center, where he had joined the staff a couple of years ago following his retirement from his full-time practice.  There, men and women with whom he worked, intubated him and, thereafter, put him on a ventilator.  He died in Clara Maass on April 9, 2020. 

Joe Wojtecki is the Assistant Director of Customer Experience at Clara Maass Medical Center and, therefore, a colleague of Dr. Molinari.  As Dr. Molinari lay near death earlier this month, Mr. Wojtecki used a tablet to FaceTime Dr. Molinari's family, which gave them the opportunity to see him one final time, to remind him how much they loved him, and to say good-bye.  

As COVID-19 has decimated families throughout New Jersey, not simply because of the ferocity with which it strikes but because its very appearance separates the critically ill patient from the patient's family and loved ones, Mr. Wojtecki has been doing yeoman's work.  He has become the bridge between his hospital's critically ill COVID-19 patients and the families who love them but who cannot be with them in their darkest hour.  

-AK

Words of Wisdom from the Wizard, Falco, and Norm

The Replacements, starring Keanu Reeves and Gene Hackman, is among my favorite guilty pleasure movies. It is a film that never aspires to be more than what it is, which is entertainment.  

However, in spite of its inauspicious ambitions, it has some resonance.  Among my favorite scenes is the scene where Reeves' character, quarterback Shane Falco, explains to his teammates what he means when he says that quicksand is what he fears the most:

It is inarguable that at the highest levels of our government, the response to the COVID-19 global pandemic was inadequate.  Unless the massive relief package Congress passed recently contained funding for Professor Peabody's WABAC Machine, rehashing the point seems to serve little purpose now.  Solace shall have to be taken from the knowledge that history is written not in pencil, but in indelible ink, and from the hope that those who know what really happened shall not permit themselves to be lied to, anew, in November.  

One of those concerns belongs to yesterday, the other to tomorrow.  We the people of these United States need to concern ourselves with today - the present.  Undeniably, there is a need to re-ignite this nation's economic engine.  That being said, having been so stunningly wrong in our preparations for this contagion by moving too slowly we cannot exacerbate the problem by moving too hastily in our efforts to recover from the damage it has inflicted.  The time we wasted earlier this year is lost to us forever.  No amount of running as fast as we can now will get it back. For those of you struggling with the answer to Coach Wooden's rhetorical question, the answer is "never".  

We have one opportunity to get this right.  One.  There will be no second chance.  No do-over.  No Mulligan.  The difference between clearing the cobwebs out of the nation's economic engine and blowing the lid off of Pandora's Box is neither slight nor insubstantial.  We must move with purpose but not in haste. 

Simply put, 

Stay well.  Stay safe.  Whenever you can, stay home. 

-AK 

  

What, No Card?

For close to thirty years, I have often said (only partially tongue-in-cheek) that the most important factor in my relationship with my wife, in terms of what has kept her from (a) killing me; (b) leaving me; or (c) killing me and then leaving me, is limiting the amount of time she has to spend with me.  No one knows better than I just how much of an asshole I am.  Most people with whom I have contact on a daily, or at least regular, basis, walk away appreciating how special a person Margaret is and praying to whichever deity is their preference that her shoes are not their own.  

Since March 16, 2020 I have been working "remotely", which is to say I have been working from home.  Margaret has seen far more of me in the past five weeks than she had in the past two years.  A little of me goes a long way.  A lot of me?  Let's just say that the coiners of the expressions "less is more" and "absence makes the heart grow fonder" may not have known me but certainly had me in mind.  

I do my best to stay out of her way during "the work day".  I spend most days holed up in a spare bedroom at the end of the hallway, which we have temporarily transformed into my office.  I was jazzed by the fact that it took me less than two weeks to make it resemble my regular office, which is to say...yikes.  Margaret was, shall we say, decidedly less enthusiastic.  

As the days have stretched into weeks and, now, into a second month,  I have tried to improve as a cohabitant. I pay more attention now than I did at the beginning of this exercise.  For instance, I pay attention to Margaret's television viewing habits, including the number of episodes of Snapped she watches as well as which ones she saves on the DVR for repeated viewing. I pay attention to her Google search history, including her apparently steadily-growing interest in exotic poisons, where they can be purchased, how long they remain in one's system after ingestion, and how traceable they are.  

I pay particular attention to way the right side of her face twitches rhythmically in response to certain things I say, such as "Do you ever think of what we will do when I retire", "What are you making for dinner", and "Do you want to know what I think"?  The whole side of her face moves with the unerring precision of a metronome.  But for the fact that it is more than slightly terrifying, it is a thing of beauty to behold.  

Happy 1st Month-a-versary, Margaret, and thank you for having not yet acted upon the urge to smother me in my sleep. I appreciate it more than you know...

...once I am back at the office full-time, I will send you a text supported by the appropriate emojis. 

-AK 

The True Joy of Life is the Trip

I am now what I have always been, which is a man with few friends.  It is an arrangement that has worked to the mutual benefit of the world and me for more than fifty-three years.  It serves both of us well.  A reason perhaps I feel so little disturbance in the force of my day-to-day associated with "life in pandemic"?  Consciously or not, I have been practicing social distancing since 1967.

Five Kenny siblings preceded me.  None followed me.  By virtue of that fact, Lisa Eves is the younger sister I never had.  What now feels like a very long time ago, slightly more than fifteen years, we spent five years working together at the Firm. In my experience, far more often than not, when co-workers become former co-workers, their relationship, however close it was, becomes attenuated.  Not Gracie and me.  I was there for her when her dad, Thomas, from whom she inherited her otherwise inexplicable love of the Baltimore Orioles, died far too young.  She was there for Margaret and me when Margaret's mom died more than ten years ago. She was there for me, again, three years ago when Mom died. 

Once upon a lifetime ago, as any good older brother does, I used to worry quite a lot about who she dated.  All worries evaporated when she and Joe got together.  Joe Morel is a genuinely good human being, chock full of excellent qualities.  My favorite one?  He unequivocally and unconditionally loves Gracie.  She unequivocally and unconditionally loves him right back.  Truthfully, I have no idea at this point how many years the two of them are together.  I am a surrogate older brother, not a clock-maker for crying out loud.  

To my knowledge, no one to whom I am related by blood has been stricken by COVID-19.  Joe's family, sadly, has been far less fortunate.  Jack Morel, Joe's father - whose acquaintance I never made but whose obituary was so beautiful I wished I had - died on March 30, 2020.  One day later, his family received confirmation that he had tested positive for COVID-19.  Jack Morel was eighty-six. 

Earlier this week, Gracie shared with me an article that Joe's nephew, Kyle, who is a reporter for The New Jersey Herald, wrote honoring his grandfather and discussing how his family dealt with an incalculable loss, for which all of them would have gathered to support one another, when normal rules of mourning do not apply.  I commend it to your attention...

...and I add my voice to the chorus sending condolences and love to Joe, Gracie, and Jack Morel's entire family.  

-AK 

The Precious Commodity of Hope

While being smart and remaining vigilant, we must be careful to not engage in information saturation. Simply put, the world has seemingly transformed into a significantly scarier place since the beginning of 2020.  The men and women who report the news, whether in print, on television, on the radio, or on-line, are actually doing nothing other than their jobs in keeping us abreast of the latest COVID-19 developments.  It is not their job to decide for us what constitutes being kept abreast and what constitutes information overload.  It is ours.  We the people of these United States are presently enduring the consequences of living in an "avoidance of responsibility" society.  When we have made it through to the other side of this, here is to hoping that we teach our children and our grandchildren the importance of accepting responsibility for one's actions and decisions...and we finally learn that lesson's importance ourselves. 

Although the overwhelming majority of the news regarding COVID-19's impact on day-to-day life in these United States is somber, it is not exclusively so.  There is a lot of bad news on everybody's doorstep.  There is, however, also some extraordinarily hopeful news. 

Unless you have lived under a rock for the past thirty days (and if you have done so while social distancing and using Purell and Lysol wipes, then keep up the good work), you possess at least a rudimentary understanding of how terribly besieged the hospital system in New York City has been.  The Brooklyn Hospital Center is one of the City's most-besieged facilities.  Since the beginning of March, approximately two hundred babies have been born there, including those born to the twenty-nine mothers suffering from COVID-19 when they delivered the baby.  The physicians, nurses, and staff of the Brooklyn Hospital Center's department of obstetrics and gynecology, headed by Dr. Erroll Byer, Jr., have safely delivered every baby.  To date, neither a mother nor a child born at the Brooklyn Hospital Center since March has died of COVID-19.  

Under seemingly impossible circumstances, consistently excellent results have been delivered.  I commend to your attention this piece that Sheri Fink wrote, which appeared in the April 12, 2020 edition of The New York Times.  I believe that when you learn about Precious Anderson and the other patients of the Brooklyn Hospital Center's department of obstetrics and gynecology, it will bring a smile to your face.  

I know, at least, it brought one to mine.  

-AK 

Choosing Strength

A little less than two weeks ago, David Brooks of The New York Times asked readers in an Op-Ed piece to write to him and let him know to what extent and how life during the coronavirus pandemic is affecting them and, more pointedly, their mental health.  

One week later, in his April 9, 2020 column entitled "The Pandemic of Fear and Agony", he shared some of his readers' responses.  The responses, admittedly a small sampling of what he received, are extraordinary.  I commend the column to your attention.  If I may, I would also commend Mr. Brooks' book "The Road to Character" to your attention.  It is an eminently worthwhile read. 

The readers' responses that Mr. Brooks published in his April 9, 2020 column were, indeed, extraordinary.  Even more so, at least in my opinion, were the comments readers offered in response to the column.  One, in particular, caught my eye. 

A woman identifying herself as S W Hanna from Celt, Virginia commented: 

My husband died a year ago, by his own hand (long story short, he thought he was losing his job, three years from retirement and that we would be ruined). I survived this last year in hope that my grief would become bearable, that somehow I would be able to reinvent my life without him.

Somehow.

And now this.

"Courage!" I tell myself.

"Courage!" I wish you all.

Yet still I shake when I wake in the middle of the night.

As of Saturday morning, which is the last time I checked it prior to composing this, her comment had received 537 "recommended" (the NYT Comments Section's equivalent of the thumbs-up) and two dozen responses, including mine. This woman's display of candor and courage moved me. It truly moved me.

This brave soul is living - and now demonstrating by baring her soul and sharing his tragedy from her life - the distinction between fear and panic. The tone of her comment revealed, to my ear at least, the fear she carries with her during her day-to-day. More importantly, her comment revealed that in spite of that fear, she makes it through her day-to-day every day. Moreover, it revealed that whether she yet realizes it, she will make it. She's made of sterner, stronger stuff than she likely ever realized she was, which realization she shall carry with her all of the days of her life.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, makes all the difference.

-AK

Take a Moment for the Helpers

President Harry S. Truman

These are indeed the times that try men's souls.  Presently, we not only do not know whether light exists at the tunnel's end, we cannot even yet calculate the tunnel's length. We might be low enough to question whether light, once we are close enough to see it, is in fact a new day's dawn or merely the front end of an onrushing locomotive.  

If you awakened this morning to discover that you and those you love most of all in this world are healthy and safe, then stop lamenting your situation.  Take a moment, just a moment, to think of those who are not as fortunate.  Too often, when confronted with a crisis, we the people of these United States think only "big picture".  We commit to memory how many people die as if an event's effect is measured solely by its mass-casualty statistics. 

Let all of us, today, who have not lost a loved one to COVID-19, consider that there is no "big picture" without the countless "little pictures" that comprise it.  This disease infects and kills people.  It kills individuals.  Those who die are not statistics.  Each is a person whose loved ones grieve her or his death, a grieving process exacerbated by the fact that as their loved one approached death, he or she did so alone. 

Let all of us, today, who have not lost a loved one and who also still have a job, which job allows us to work safely from our home, spend a moment or two appreciating those whose jobs afford no such luxury.  Of course, that number includes the medical professionals battling on the front lines.  Women and men who make an extraordinary sacrifice at their place of work every day.  More than that, though, those who also have foregone the comforts of home while fighting this fight out of concern of allowing the beast against which they battle at work to gain access to their homes and their families. 

That number also includes the men and women who deliver our mail; those who deliver packages ordered from Amazon, etc.; those who work in supermarkets, restaurants, and other "essential" businesses; those who pick up our garbage and recycling; those who work for our various public utilities to ensure that water, electricity, and heat are available at a switch's flick; those who manufacture vital goods, from paper towels to PPE and from hand sanitizer to ventilators; the truckers; and, of course, the men and women who put on a uniform daily as members of our local, county, state, and federal network of first responders.  

Countless men and women run towards danger as opposed to away from it.  They do it every day. They do it not simply because it is a job. They do it because it is a calling.  When we get through this crisis and we finally emerge on its other side, may we never forget all that each of them does and shall do for each of us.  

We shall never be able to repay the debt owed.  But we sure as hell can thank them.  And we should.  

Every day. 

-AK 

  

Finding a Place to Make Your Stand

Lighten up while you still can

Don't even try to understand.

Just find a place to make your stand,

and take it easy...

I am not a religious man.  I am Irish Catholic by birth and by upbringing.  However, I only made it as far as First Holy Communion in the sacramental assembly line.  Between communion and confirmation, I opted out.  Ironic is it not how in spite of the absence of a dab or two of holy aqua, I still grew up to become a confirmed asshole.  Can I get an Amen? 

While organized religion makes my hair hurt and seemingly blind allegiance to some invisible higher power does too, I appreciate that each of us in our day-to-day needs to have faith in something and needs to have something in which to believe.  I simply subscribe to the school of thought that we should look inward - and not outward - for such things.  

Irrespective of your physical prowess, the strongest, most powerful part of you is your mind.  Your mind.  Not your spouse's mind.  Not your mother's mind.  Not your father's mind.  Not your employer's mind.  Yours.  The secret to not letting the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy (to borrow a line from the great American philosophers Jackson Browne and the late Glenn Frey) is to exercise your mind, to invigorate it, and to keep it sharp so that you run it and it does not run you.  

This is not some sort of 21st century touchy/feely, jerk yourself off mantra.  It is common sense.  You already know that to a very significant degree, the perception you create of your reality becomes the reality in which you live.  It is for this very reason that you controlling your mind - and not allowing it to control you - is so important.  Your mind shapes your perception.  Your perception shapes your decision-making.  

Every day is an opportunity.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  It is not a guarantee of anything, whether "anything" is a good thing or a bad thing.  It is a blank page.  What fills the page is up to you.  It is your responsibility.  If you perceive that responsibility to be a burden, then you will fill the page with more than your proportionate share of self-pitying tripe and bullshit.  However, if you perceive that responsibility to be the opportunity that it is, then you will fill that page with positive thoughts and actions.  

If you have not yet done it, then I strenuously recommend you familiarize yourself with the work of Gary John Bishop.  Whether you are controlling your mind and making it work for you or it is controlling you and you/it are engaged in a daily knife fight for control of your mental health, he can help you.  

Win Today.  

-AK 

Pop Pop, the Unlikely Policy Influencer

On Wednesday afternoon, Governor Murphy issued a new directive to his fellow New Jerseyans. All people inside of the essential stores that have been permitted to remain open during our statewide shelter-in-place order shall now be required to wear facial protection.   Thank you, Governor Murphy. 

Last weekend, I made trips on back-to-back days to the Shop Rite in Somerset (Franklin Township) where the Missus and I buy our groceries.  Saturday morning, I did our shopping and then on Sunday morning I shopped for Suzanne and Ryan.  Fun fact:  When you are an incorrigible old asshole AND heavily insured you are the designated shopper for your family.  At least in my family you are. As it should be. I take the whole "protect yourself, protect others" mantra seriously, which is why I pushed my cart up and down Shop Rite's aisles while dressed like this.

Pop Pop geared up for the Shop-Rite:

Being safe and supporting the Alma mater

The number of people steadfastly refusing to wear gloves and facial protection I saw in the store both days was staggering, particularly since not all the cowboys were shoppers.  Shop Rite employees eschewed necessary PPE too.  To date, more than two dozen Shop Rite stores across New Jersey have reported at least one employee afflicted with COVID-19.  

Truthfully, I had no idea that Governor Murphy followed me on Instagram (he does not) or valued my counsel (he does not) but the enactment of this new directive less than four days after I posted this video is (in my opinion only) irrefutable proof that he does:

*WARNING: This video contains a word or two

of profanity. If you are a sensitive soul, then you

just might be offended.*

My fellow New Jerseyans (and for your information, DJT, it is "Jerseyans" and not "Jerseyites"), you are welcome.  I am humbled to have had my small contribution to this effort recognized at the highest levels of state government.  I applaud Governor Murphy's action.  I stand ready to answer the Governor's call the next time he needs my help (he did not call the first time and he shall never, ever call). 

Stay well.  Stay safe.  As much as you can, stay home.  

-AK