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Wilfrid

My temporary retirement is over

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I think the last three months gave me a glimpse of what retirement would be like (although it would hopefully include travel). Well, it's over. I've taken on a new job, and a bunch of other heavyweight projects; the city is discernibly opening again; there aren't likely to be any more days I don't go out at all (as long as the numbers don't shoot up again).

So farewell four or five hours of reading a day, farewell exercises like listening to the 100 "best" debut albums or ploughing through an A-Z of classical musicians for Musical Corner suggestions, farewell reorganizing every cupboard and drawer in the house and keeping them reorganized. Farewell dressing in t-shirt and pajama pants every day. Farewell watching TV shows I would not normally consider watching.

I am keeping the daily poetry reading, but it won't be the Paradise Losts and Maximuses any more. And I am keeping my Criterion Channel subscription, but there won't be hours of bingeing on the Marseilles trilogy, or Les Mis.

Of course, I understand we may have to do this all over again.  

 

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This situation is weirder than retirement because of all the limits on activities and the places that are closed.

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"How I Spent My Sequestration" might be a tremendously interesting and amusing thread.

As I read Wilf's activities, I note how few of them occupied our time.    And I realize that our sequestered life differs both greatly and little from our normal life

Same = morning papers/mail/periodicals, home cooked meals, neighborhood walks and chatting up neighbors, housekeeping, bi-weekly trips to the country

Different = grocery delivery, no dinner parties in house or as guests, no grand-kid visits or extended family meals, no taco trucks or fast food en route to the country, no shopping at Asian markets on nearby Clement street for fresh veg, whole fish, pork, seasonings, no ordering weekly books at public library

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My own experience is perfectly described in this Editors' Note to the first issue of a new socialist literary journal called The Drift (and God do I want to write for them):

[W]riters were the ones least affected by the changes. They were accustomed to working from home, mostly solitary by choice, and either comfortably ensconced in cushy jobs or already living precariously.

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Although 3 is a reasonably small number, it is the # of things that we do with great frequency: play tennis, eat at restaurants (or other people's places) & travel.  Well, although the other things that I do with regularity (nap, watch TV, do crossword puzzles) or that Ginny does (read, watch TV, text/e-mail) are at least equal in #, they didn't/don't sustain either of us enough to not really miss the other 3.  And, apparently, the lack of exercise & stressors (hello competitive tennis) and the ability to order different dinners from or resist what my ever lean, carb & dessert loving mate is eating at home, has had a negative medical effect noticeable on my recent lab tests.  They better keep the tennis courts & outdoor dining open long enough for me to get my A1C number back down over the next several months.  Ouch.

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Steve, The red clay courts up by me opened yesterday. Have the ones near you opened?

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The short answer to NYC public tennis court openings is that several are not run directly by the NYC Parks Dept but are contracted out to others to run.  These are the courts that have opened.  Therefore, the red clay ones you speak of, as well as Prospect Park's courts & even the hard courts at Central Park (not the adjacent clay courts) opened a week or so ago, while the ones run directly by the Parks Dept. have not yet opened.  

Private membership clubs with outdoor courts (like Sporttime on Randall's Island) were green lighted along with other businesses two or three weeks ago (with lots of regs.).  I'm a member at a small private club in Brooklyn and have been playing regularly again.

Of course, none of this makes any sense to anyone (not that anyone was expecting it to) 🎾

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On 6/29/2020 at 9:54 PM, Sneakeater said:

My own experience is perfectly described in this Editors' Note to the first issue of a new socialist literary journal called The Drift (and God do I want to write for them):

 

 

Yes and no. As a writer I could work from home, but in 2019 I was the kind of writer who traveled endlessly to meet people and report stories. That’s a kind of writer.

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