Yes. It's Lonely. You Have to Fight It, and the Virus, Each Day.

I saw it for the first time yesterday morning. The Boston Globe did an article on what it's like to live alone during this malady. Most people who live alone chose to live alone, figuring like me that they had ultimate choice and freedom. The virus has other plans.

I expected to be alone a great deal. I'm living in Milwaukee, where I don't know a lot of people, but where people are still close by. I chose it because it's fairly near my aging but still fairly agile parents. It creates a 200-mile rough line among my brothers, Appleton to Chicago. Nobody's more than four hours from each other. It's already been very helpful.

The East Side, most specifically the Downer Avenue area, is extremely close by. People were jealous when they learned my location. A movie house, a great bookstore, two fine coffee shops and a couple of fun restaurants were within easy walking distance.

Until, of course, this awful thing. Now it really doesn't matter all that much. It's a gamble to go outside, even with a mask.

The article says that people are worried that their social skills will go lagging. I suppose they will, but common consideration becomes primary now. You have to stay out of people's ways, and they should stay out of yours. If you're anti-social, this is your time.

But few people actually are. Most, like me, are choosy. We engage, sometimes, anonymously but with friendly inclinations. We like to make people's days by opening doors for heavy-laden women, making clerks smile, starting conversations with folks we're pretty sure share our views. It feels better to connect, however briefly. I liked to take the laptop and write in those coffee shops; it loosens up the mind a little.

On the way to the mailbox yesterday, en route to an eight-block walk, a young boy (I'm guessing five), without a mask, was with scooter and poised right in front of it, just waiting there. I called out to him to please go up the sidewalk a bit. His older sister heard me and called out to him. He looked at her: "Why?"

Because, young man, you don't know anything. The virus rules, and maybe not you, but you might be a carrier and absolutely evil to someone like me, who might not survive an attack. Sorry. On another day, I'd approach and tell you that scooter looks pretty neat.

It is something of a respite to go outside on walks, but not that much. People approach you, and the first thing you want to do is cross the street. I don't think anyone's offended now. I wave at some. Some wave back.

Are others having trouble with sleep? Just the general tone of the times, the constant anxiety, takes its toll. Each day one can give thanks, but each day you wake with a new, old question: Do I have it?

I've tried to sign up for giving blood, to give so others may live, and to feel as if I'm helping. The spots are jammed, which is a good thing, actually. People are thinking of others in ways that aren't demonstrative, but thinking nonetheless.

But conversation is a craving. I call people I haven't called in years. It goes well, mostly, and I wonder what the hell took me so long. Then I consider them, and the simple fact that they haven't called, either. But just about all of them are busy with their families, so I'm not a priority. That's what you get when you're single, male, and looking in.

Books help, and I've got a slew of them. But they only talk back after a fashion. It gets hard to concentrate when it's the main source of recreation. I even have to take a break from that.

Of course, there's TV, but if you've noticed, there's not much there except cable's incessant droning on how awful all of this is and, if you don't watch Fox News, how 45 seems almost complicit in it. This was a bad joke from the start, and now it isn't even a joke. It's serious, and we have the worst possible person in the worst possible position to help us. And who can claim to help us if he's recommending, in his cheesy way so as to try to get out of it later, that we ingest Clorox or Lysol to rid ourselves of the virus?

Some of the Sunday shows are worth it, now that church attendance has been curtailed: "GPS", with Fareed Zakaria on CNN, has excellent commentary, and he has unique guests who give good and thoughtful viewpoints; he tries to keep it balanced, and isn't afraid to take people on. Following that is "Reliable Sources", with Brian Stelter, a smart and incisive view of, especially, the tactics that manipulative media try to twist our minds. Worth your while if you're confused or dismayed about what you've been viewing. Stelter will get your head on straight.

The radio helps with a kind of friendly noise, if you're tuned into the right stations. It reminds you that news continues and humankind keeps trying to make sense of it. Saturdays are the best fun, with the tireless Scott Simon continuing to do Weekend Edition on NPR and Peter Sagal cleverly conducting "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" afterwards (though without the audience, which robs it of its spark a little). For a few hours, it's some undeniably quality stuff.

During the week, friends have lit me up to 101.7 FM in Milwaukee, which is a liberal station with shows like Thom Hartmann and "Democracy Now!" Otherwise, there is plenty of chatter about liberal viewpoints. If you're a Democrat and in Milwaukee (I don't think it has much reach), it's worth keeping on to have a voice in the background.

I have a narrow porch at my apartment, up and away from the street, but I haven't taken advantage of it yet because, except for one day, the weather's been chilly. Being near the big lake hasn't helped. But the sun hits it in mid-afternoon, baking it thoroughly regardless of outside temperature, so there can't be any virus there. I'll be able to view part of the far more vacant world from there soon. I have helped parallel parkers from there, praised nice-looking dogs, and chatted-up people who have looked like they needed it. One thing, perhaps, to look forward to.

I have the mail held until each Friday, so while it doesn't pile up that much, it cuts down on the number of times I have to open the door. It's delivered in a pile, so I scrape it in with a yardstick, wait two days, and dive in. I do the same with the Sunday New York Times, not nearly as much fun to read now that the city, and its news, has been absorbed by the virus. In fact, subscribers have been put on notice that the fun Travel section has been eliminated until further notice, and the sports will be attached to another section. Adjustments, adjustments.

And, of course, I write a little, and I thank you again for reading it. I wonder if I'll run out of things to say. Not yet. Something else is undoubtedly around the bend, and I certainly have time to put it into perspective and context. No hurry here.

But it continues to be a struggle. Better than getting this awful virus, though. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that. Five rules apply: Don't go outside without a mask; stay away from touching your face (much easier said than done); and wash your hands, wash your hands, wash your hands.

One month to go, in Wisconsin. Keep battling until May 26, at least, when they say things will be better. We have one job: Stay alive.

Be well. Be careful. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.


Mister Mark