Hi,
ALAN SKEOCH COVID – 19 This is Day 3 (March 15, 2020)
Hard to believe the world could change in an instant but it has. We are hived away waiting for the arrival of covid-19…must be one of the four horseman of the ————— (forgot how to spell the word).
Having a coffee, looking out the window. Something nagging at my mind as I look out. Got it. No traffic. And all the world stood still.
Store shelves empty according to TV. Focus of the empty shelves seems to be on one product…toilet paper. Curious. Laughable. Perhaps tragic.
Gabriela sent an email saying she had registered us with Longo’s food delivery system where they bring food ordered and leave it on doorstep then take money from an account. No human contact.
Gabriela also ordered Marjorie to cease going to the Salvation Army thrift store. “The things will be there when this is over.” We will see if Marjorie can resist the urge to thrift shop. Doubtful. I just made an odd mistake…instead of thrift I typed theft. I wonder if there will be a breakdown in law and order as this Pandemic spreads across the face of the earth?
Gabriela made another sinister comment about young people should schools be closed (as Nolan’s school). “Parents will not know what to do so will leave kids with grandparents who are most susceptible to Covid-19. Perhaps a fatal decision. “If you are over 70, stay in your home. Make no human contact until he virus passes by.”…”You know Alan seems to have lung trouble…colds and coughs.” Hard for me to say this but that comment gives some idea as to how the world has suddenly changed. There is a bit of a silver lining in that people, i.e. Gabriela and others, seem to be worrying about each other more than usual.
Trouble on the horizon however.
In North America the gap between fact and fiction has narrowed even more. Who can remember President Trump’s last lie when he just continues to spin lie after lie. Makes any action he takes questionable just at the time we need firm and clear and informed leadership. My greatest fear is not Covid – 19. It is the possible re election of Trump. A certifiable narcissistic lunatic with the power to destroy society as we know it. .
What will we do? Marjorie will cook. I will write stories and go to the farm alone…no human contact. We are in a prison of our own making. Not a bad prison. But this is only Day 3.
Movie business will likely be in some kind of hiatus but we have heard nothing. Two movies on … one in North Bay and one at Scottsdale Farm. The need to entertain humanity may covert movie industry into a necessary service. Remember the term ‘bread and circuses’… Movies are really circuses designed to quell the the potential chaos of a world gone mad.
alan skeoch
P.S. How are we today? Just fine. A little antsy to get out but no problems yet. Yes, I have a cough but had that long before this recent terror event. Must avoid Covid – 19 if we can.
www.lyricsfreak.com/static/images/txtstripes_large.gif); font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: 30px; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; min-height: 598px; position: relative;”>Riding on the City Of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
Three Conductors; twenty-five sacks of mail
All along the southbound odyssey – the train pulls out of Kankakee
And rolls along past houses, farms, and fields
Passing trains that have no name, and freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobile
Good morning, America, how are you?
Say, don’t you know me? I’m your native son
I’m the train they call the City Of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done
Dealing card games with the old man in the Club Car
Penny a point – ain’t no one keeping score
As the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumbling ‘neath the floor
And the sons of Pullman Porters, and the sons of Engineers
Ride their father’s magic carpets made of steel
And, mothers with their babes asleep rocking to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel
Good morning, America, how are you?
Say, don’t you know me? I’m your native son
I’m the train they call the City Of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done
Night time on the City Of New Orleans
Changing cars in Memphis Tennessee
Halfway home – we’ll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness, rolling down to the sea
But, all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dream
And the steel rail still ain’t heard the news
The conductor sings his songs again – the passengers will please refrain
This train got the disappearing railroad blues
Good night, America, how are ya?
Said, don’t you know me? I’m your native son
I’m the train they call the City Of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done
