OUR QUICK SWEET MICHIGAN TRIP

Dear George, 

Painful to all, our daughter-in-law K’s mom, Linda, passed away in New Orleans in late April, and the family arranged for a mid-June memorial service in East Lansing, next door to her home town. We had had to cancel an earlier planned trip to New Orleans because of our coming down with covid, so this was the first time in a while that we’ve seen our family and really gone anywhere. Our cleaning lady Jan and her husband take care of Iko when we go out of town, and we brought him over on Thursday evening, the night before our departure. Iko loves Jan, but he sensed that something was up when we carried in his bed and a large container of food. Iko promptly peed on the living room curtain, which I interpreted as him saying, “I’m not the sort of dog you want to stay here in your house.” Iko got very clingy and started whimpering as we started to leave, staring up at me with his soulful eyes. Jan grabbed him by the collar, and we made our way out the door. We felt guilty for the next three days. 

We had planned to leave Cincinnati between 9 and 10 on Friday morning, and, as is typical, we left at 1 p.m., heading north on I-75 on the 300-mile journey. We stopped at three Ohio rest areas so I could gather up tourist brochures to use in a scrapbook project, and I bought a marvelous liquor bottle sculpted as a volunteer fireman for only two dollars at a Goodwill. To enjoy more of the small town scenery, we left I-75 at Lima and continued on US-127 the rest of the way to Lansing. The two-lane highway was a more interesting route, though I did get lost and drove 20 miles out of our way. 

We got to East Lansing about 8 p.m. and went straight to our hotel, the Executive East Lansing, located across the street from the Michigan State campus and a block away from the memorial service location. Totally out of character for me, we picked the Executive not only because of its location but also because it was the most expensive lodging in the city. It turned out that we also paid an annoying sixty dollars to park our car in the hotel garage. The lobby of the Executive was quite elegant, and the hotel was technologically on the cutting edge. We had to use our digital room card to operate the elevator, open the door to our room, and turn on the lights. I depended on the kindness of strangers to operate the elevator, and it took several tries to turn on the lights in our room. 

We went out for a late supper, but the first three restaurants we tried were closed, and the only place we found was Murphy’s Brewery, a hangout for MSU college students. I doubt they’ve ever had patrons in the 80s age group. It was so noisy inside that we opted for an outdoors table and watched as the parade of twenty-something students showed their IDs to the bouncer at the door. We haven’t been in a collegiate bar scene for many decades and the energy level was remarkable. The girls and boys came in separate groups of three or four, the boys sporting mod haircuts shaved on the sides and the girls dressed in clothing designed to accentuate their torsos. After a while our son J and grandkids A and L joined us, and the children got our firsthand view of what their lives would be like in 5 or 6 years. The crowd was active and happy, and we were happy too. 

We slept in on Saturday morning, then had brunch at the Thieve’s Banquet, the memorial service site. After eating we drove up the street to the MSU art museum and enjoyed a display concerning “working at home.” Afterwards I went to get the car a couple of blocks away, arranging with Katja to pick her up at the drop-off point in front of the museum. When I returned, however, I didn’t see Katja anywhere. I waited about ten minutes in the car, then got out and walked around the area, hollering “Katja” at the top of my voice. No luck. After five or so minutes Katja did show up. She had been waiting on the bench at a nearby bus stop, finding it more comfortable than the benchless dropoff point. She didn’t see me drive by; I didn’t see her. 

J encouraged us to come promptly for the 4:00 memorial, and the large room was already jam-packed when we arrived. Linda had a big family and a lot of friends in the area, some 90 attendees in total. The mood was literally a “celebration of life,” lots of chatter, catching up, laughter. At 5:00 speeches began by family, friends, and professional legal colleagues. I think it’s amazing to learn so much about a person, and it’s clear that Linda was beloved and respected. Many funny and affectionate stories. J gave a speech about what a wonderful mother-in-law Linda had been, and he had to hold back tears multiple times. K, still more emotional, talked about the final weeks of her mom’s life and the courage and thoughtfulness with which she had dealt with it. The memorial was scheduled for four to six, but half the crowd was still there when we left at seven.

Sunday was Father’s Day. J, K, A and L, K’s sister Jayme, her nephew Con, and K’s dad Ted were staying at a gothic-themed airbnb in Lansing, and Katja and I drove over for a holiday brunch. J made pancakes, the kids wrote greeting cards for the three dads, and Jayme gave Ted and myself T-shirts with an image of a elegant vintage car and a legend that proclaimed, “I’m Not Old — I’m Classic.” We were sad to leave at 1:30 and get on the road. 

On our way home we took a detour through Ann Arbor, a mere fifty miles out of our way, so that Katja could buy a loaf of avocado bread at Zingelman’s Deli. They were out of avocado bread, but Katja bought pumpernickel instead and a basket full of other deli delights. I was disappointed that the Ann Arbor thrift shop was closed on Sunday, but that’s the breaks. We headed south on US-23 and then I-75, eating subs at Hungry Howie’s, and getting back to Cincinnati about 9 p.m. Iko was out of his mind to see us, and we were happy to see him too. Our trip had gone by quickly, but it was packed with good feelings. 

Love, 

Dave

COVID AT OUR HOUSE

 Dear George, 

 It’s so ironic. We followed all the rules, did all the vaccinations and boosters, and successfully avoided covid for three years. Then Joe Biden announced that the pandemic was over and two days later I came down with the disease. My theory is that my immune system heard Biden’s announcement and decided it deserved a vacation. I think this is probably true, but, even if not, here is my report about covid in our household. 

 At first it never dawned on me that I might have covid. One of my OLLI teachers had cancelled class because of a bad cold, and I’d come down with all the familiar cold symptoms: sore throat, racking cough, runny nose, chest congestion, cold chills, muscle aches. This set in suddenly at the Art Museum on a Saturday afternoon, a busy public place. We drove home, and I took two Tylenol and went to bed. Katja made chicken noodle soup for me and took over walking the dog. Our physician son J happened to call that evening and asked how I was doing. I said I felt sick and described my symptoms. He immediately said I should take a covid test. I’d just gotten 8 covid tests from CVS before the deadline for free tests, and I didn’t want to squander them. Plus I didn’t really want to know the result anyway. But J said I should do it for his mom’s sake, so I went ahead and took the test. Much to my surprise (and shock), I tested positive. 

 I never like to call the doctor, but Katja called the office right away. At her request, the doctor on call prescribed Paxlovid, and Katja went over to the pharmacy to pick it up. Paxlovid is prescribed for elderly patients to avoid more serious symptoms of covid. I think the medication worked fine but it had the unpleasant side effect of making my mouth taste like a running sewer. 

 Katja and I have carefully followed all the covid information advice in recent years, and we discussed how we ought to proceed. I suggested that I probably should sleep alone on the sofa-bed in the den, but she didn’t see any point in that. I did put on a mask, but I got tired of it after five minutes. Most of the time we sat on the couch together and watched TV. An impartial observer would probably have concluded we were daffy, but I think we implicitly felt we couldn’t harm each other. We’d already been together 24 hours or more while I was contagious with no ill effects. Also Katja had recently contracted covid on a trip to New York, so it seemed likely that she was now immune. She didn’t seem worried, and I didn’t worry either. On a 0-10 cold scale, I was a 7 the first day, a 4 the second day, and a 2 the third day. However, just as I was getting better Katja started coughing and sneezing. She took the covid test immediately, and, of course, she tested positive. I felt guilty for infecting her, but Katja seemed pretty matter of fact about it. She was very irritated that her doctor wanted to interview her while my doctor prescribe Paxlovid without any questions. 

 With both of us testing positive, we stayed home and pretty much followed our regular routine. We had bought airline tickets to go to New Orleans for our grandkids’ graduation, but we cancelled them. I worried that with Katja sick and contagious she would infect me again, and we would just keep infecting each other back and forth for months on end. We skipped OLLI classes, my writers’ group, the fitness center, grocery and drugstore shopping, virtually all other outings to public places. About all I did outside the house was walk the dog. Five days after Katja became ill she was feeling much better and decided to take the covid test again. She tested negative, a big relief. While I was hesitant about wasting another test, I finally decided to take one too. Happily, my test was also negative. 

 To be on the safe side, we skipped some more OLLI classes and avoided public outings for another four or five days. Now we’re back full steam. I don’t know what to make of it all. When the pandemic began we basically went on a total lockdown for two years — no movies, restaurants, concerts, museums, public gatherings of any sort. I regard these as “lost years”. Knowing now how we’ve reacted to covid, we spent two years depriving ourselves of most of our pleasures in life in order to avoid the equivalent of a few days of a minor cold. Of course, we didn’t know that at the time and worried instead about the risk of dying. If we were starting all over again, I’m not sure how I would respond. Maybe the same. What I do feel is a strong sense of lost years which seems to have served little or no meaningful purpose in our particular case. 

Love, 

Dave