Updated: Mar 31, 2021
So after being in New York City for the entirety of this crazy year of 2020, I took advantage of a JetBlue deal to spend 13 days on Martha’s Vineyard. And in short order, my stay was then extended for another four weeks. By the time I manage to return to the Big Apple, hopefully my body and mind will be convinced I’d been an island dweller this entire summer. Lazy days by the ocean can conjure a certain magic to convince even the most skeptical amongst us of almost anything.
I suddenly, once again, have a deep tan. My face, half-covered up with fabric since April, has regained a tone more normally associated with my Lebanese heritage. (Though of course, in an aside to concerned friends out there, I’ve continued my mid-life practice of using sunscreen.)
No longer being in possession of a working automobile, I’ve become a bus-rider for the first time since, I don’t know - ever! And this might be due to a combination of old age and the Vineyard now being in the “off-season” - but I like it!
(By the way - can any of you tell a rather big birthday has recently passed me by?)
I’ve stopped watching so much news. This is obviously a short-term situation, as the vitally-crucial election of 2020 is now only thirty-something days away. But the break has been nice. I hope Rachel Maddow hasn’t been missing me too much.
I’ve seen friends who have persevered in Martha’s Vineyard, as I have in New York City. We’ve compared stories. And thankfully, we all seem to have survived.
And just yesterday, I was able to meet my self-imposed yearly challenge of jumping off the jaws bridge. Much like this month’s blog, I almost allowed this particular deadline to slip away. There were reasons for my hesitancy; the water is now close to frigid, a cold breeze has invaded the air, and no-one else seems to be doing it. And damn… haven’t I become a bit too old to still be challenging myself in such an, I don’t know - teenage way??
But I felt so much better after this mini-feat was accomplished. Courage is not measured by an absence of fear, I try to remind myself on occasion, but rather on how we manage to rise above it. So I jump off a bridge on a yearly basis. (And again, to concerned friends, I try to remain cognizant of safety at all times while lunging off that top rung.) And yes, I’m getting kind of old for this type of thing. But there is no better moment in history than now to do whatever it takes to keep mini-fears at bay.
When I soon return to the Upper West Side of Manhattan, I’ll be a news junkie for sure. And I can already imagine how my nerves will try to get the better of me on the night of our next Presidential Election. But I’ll find a way to remain calm.
And Joe Biden will win.
And maybe eventually these last four years, and 2020 in particular, will seem like a distant and surreal memory.
We’ve all persevered this far. Let’s not lose hope and courage now!