Carol and I walked in the cemetery again yesterday afternoon. Others have discovered the cemetery too. We saw a half dozen people there. Two men walking dogs, one of which was a superb gray greyhound. I called to the owner, “Your dog is beautiful,” and then because of the way the dog proudly carried himself, “and perhaps he knows it.” The man laughed and said, “He does.” A woman was with her young son riding his tricycle. A middle aged woman walked slowly alone.
The cemetery stretches down to the street that runs along the lakefront. We crossed and looked at the water for a while.
It is strange what the mind does. That is the fifth biggest lake in the world. I cannot see the other side, but my mind knows that Michigan is only fifty or sixty miles away. I do not disparage Lake Michigan. It is a serious and sometimes dangerous body of water. I was born in the center of the continent. I have lived in the Midwest almost half my life, though as an adult I have always been able to get away. I have circumnavigated twice during the fourteen years we have lived in Evanston. But I am a creature of the ocean. A lake is water dominated by land. A continent is land dominated by water. 70% of the Earth’s surface is water. I need to know that beyond the horizon land is not fifty miles away, but thousands.
Even though we will probably maintain a residence here for three more years, assuming we live three more years or weeks, Evanston is over for me. San Diego, which has been more at the heart of my life than any other place on land, is over for me. I believe Hilton Head is the future. Carol said something I did not expect the other day. “You will be restless wherever you are.” I know that. I did not know she did, but I should have. She is intelligent and has been around me longer than anyone else. I am really old. I am eagerly looking forward toward the future.
Reading online yesterday I saw three articles on ‘How to remain sane in a world gone insane.’ My thought was: How can that the world is insane be a surprise? Have these people not been paying attention? Have they read no history? And of course the answer to both questions is a resounding ‘Yes. They haven’t.’
You don’t even have to read much history to know that the world is insane. The first half of the 20th Century is proof enough.
I also saw in headings “terrified’ four times, ‘fear’ three, and ‘outraged’ three, as well as articles about how in the United States people who appear to be Chinese are being spit upon and beat up as being responsible for the pandemic.
In the unfortunate event that Carol were not a part of my life, I would provision GANNET for two or three months and go to sea. From San Diego I might sail a clockwise circle around the North Pacific, over close to Japan, up toward Alaska, down off the West Coast. By the time I got back to San Diego the first wave of Covid 19 should be over.
I would not be able to provision GANNET as I usually do. In another example of the herd following my lead, freeze dry food is in short supply. I thought of buying some. I will want to have at least a month’s supply on hand in Hilton Head for hurricanes. Amazon, CampMor, Mountain House are all almost out. There is so little available it is not worth placing an order.
It should be unnecessary to say that I am glad Carol is a part of my life and I have no desire except to see this through with her.
I suppose we have a mini-social network here with me as the nexus. From time to time some of you tell me of books or films or music you think I might enjoy and sometimes I share that in this journal.
I first learned of Max Richter from his score for the film, THE HOSTILES, which Tim told me about. I liked the film enough to put it back on my watch list to view a second time and the score exceedingly. When last week I chanced upon ‘Return 2’ and wrote about it, Douglas in England suggested other music composed by Max Richter. I bought and have listened to three albums. I like them all, but unquestionably the piece that moves me most is ‘The Waves: Tuesday’ from the album THREE WORLDS: MUSIC FROM WOOLF WORKS.