Why I'm thankful for the pandemic
No, really
Welcome to The Experiment, our guided tour through the Uncertain Now. Welcome to all the new subscribers, though I should warn you that we rarely do deep dives into zoning cases here. Mostly what we do here is try not to get lost in the forest while we look for spaces between the trees where the good can be. Now that the mental space occupied by Trump is looking for a new tenant, we can get back to talking about the really important things in life, such as Jason Statham’s trilogy of dives in The Meg and what Magic Mike XXL has to say about toxic masculinity. Maybe we’ll be able to examine the concept of real life in a digital age. We’ll probably remember the Alamo. (In fact, there’s a love story about the Alamo I’m dying to tell you.) After Trump, we can think about whatever we want. I’m as excited about that as I am about traveling again when we get the vaccine.
My friend Sly Majid makes his debut in The Experiment with “How to Find Joy in 2020,” because in a year when everything can and will happen, you gotta have a plan. Jack Hughes offers a mea culpa for accusing Dan Quayle of being the mastermind behind Mike Pence. The truth, he found, is much more sinister in “The Unusual Suspect — Part II.” And Sonia Van Meter is feeling the Burn in her latest episode recap of Star Trek: Discovery.
And as always, we remember who we lost and offer suggestions on what to do (writing letters to voters in Georgia), read (Alex Hutchison explains what extreme endurance athletes can teach us about getting through COVID-19), watch (Happiest Season on Hulu), and listen to (the Happiest Season soundtrack).
But first, let me explain why I’m grateful for the pandemic.
Look, I get it. The pandemic has caused both direct and downstream suffering. And if I could choose that the novel coronavirus had never existed, or that our government had responded more quickly and ably, or that millions of people would not have lost their jobs and that the lines at food banks would not have stretched for hours, or that millions of people around the world would not have died, I would have. If it were up to me, none of this would have happened.
But it’s not up to me. And all this did happen.
This is the Thanksgiving when it fell to each of us, in the haphazard patchwork of failing states, to not do what hundreds of years of tradition in this country taught us. The scientists advised us not to travel over the river and through the woods to grandma’s house in hopes that Uncle MAGA would go easy on the pinot noir this year while we all Don’t. Talk. Politics. Seriously, when did American family celebrations all become an episode of Faulty Towers?
Take out the extended family, the travel, the big table with lots of people, and practicing your active listening skills while your wife’s cousin’s second wife talks about her line of feline activewear on Etsy, and all you’re left with is your household, a lot of food, and the mission statement of the holiday, which is to give thanks.
The mission statement of the holiday is to give thanks.
I’ve written before about my distaste for going around the table and dutifully reciting what we’re thankful for. We did this at my table this week, and my sons and wife listed off a wealth of blessings that would rank us among the luckiest people in history. We aren’t rich, don’t get me wrong. But we got to be together. The boys are making their virtual way through schooling thanks, each noted, to the teachers on the other side of the screens. We are all healthy. And we had two pies: key lime and chocolate pecan.
What struck me is how we see all our blessings as being “in spite of.” We are together in spite of the pandemic. They are progressing in their education in spite of COVID. We are all healthy in spite of… well, you get the idea. (The pies, though are proof in a higher power. Sara Lee better wake up every day grateful that Sonia doesn’t want to go into the pie business.)
This is not going to become a paean to looking on the bright side. I loathe the aphorism that everything happens for a reason if only because underpinning that balderdash is that we expect that the explanation would justify whatever happened. Yes, you can always find some good in everything that is bad, but that is not only not the point I’ve driving at but an obstacle on the road to the point.
We fall too easily into the trap of thinking 2020 is an anomaly. Elon Musk even mused on a local podcast that we all might be living in a computer simulation. The Oxford English Dictionary has had such a hard time picking a word of the year that it threw up its tweedy hands and said fine, whatever, and picked them all, including, yes, pandemic, but also: “bushfires, Covid-19, WFH, lockdown, circuit-breaker, support bubbles, keyworkers, furlough, Black Lives Matter and moonshot.”
This year feels so abnormal that it doesn’t feel like time but a suspension of it. There were the Before Times. With news of the vaccines came permission to make plans for when things get back to normal. But we’ve been at this since March. This right now is our normal, a point Steven Petrow made eloquently in a Washington Post essay recently:
These weeks and months are also real life. No one really knows how long the pandemic will go on. But I don’t want to spend my days pining for a pre-covid-19 past, or biding my time for a post-pandemic future. This is the real deal. Life, today.
Before, we could waste time, spend time, and mark time little concerned that time was a finite resource. If 2020 has taught me anything, it is that we only ever have now, and that 2020 is not a suspension but a concentration of time.
Before I posit the great virtue of 2020, let me acknowledge that if Charles Dickens were writing a novel set in the present day, the first line would go something like, “It was the best of times, except it really wasn’t.” If this year were someone you met in a bar, few of us would give our real names, and fewer still our real number. And there are many of us for whom the biggest reason to look forward to 2021 is that it will not be 2020.
But let me ask you this: What event defined 2019? There was impeachment and… the Washington Nationals won the World Series, I guess. (Actually, they really did. I checked.) People mourn the missed proms and graduation ceremonies of those who are graduating during the pandemic, but in 20 years, this shared experience will bind the Class of 2020 across all dividing lines: class, school, gender, geography, and race. “You graduated in 2020? Me, too! That was wild, huh?”
For all of the uncertainty that the Uncertain Now has brought us, the one thing that we are certain about is a hyperawareness of the now. How could I not be grateful for this? Marcus Aurelius wrote in Meditations, 9.6: “All you need are these: certainty of judgment in the present moment; action for the common good in the present moment; and an attitude of gratitude in the present moment for anything that comes your way.” He didn’t say the good stuff, or the stuff that made you better. He said to be grateful for everything.
This year has brought a lot of pain and suffering, but just because the bad outweighs the good does not mean the former negates the latter or that it all isn’t cause for thanksgiving. You’ve got to give thanks for it all, because otherwise the good only comes in spite of the bad, which is a half step from thinking that things will only be good in the absence of the bad. Things will be better when… we say, attaching optional contingencies to our happiness. And then we start arguing with reality. If only this were not so, we say about things that inarguably are so.
We are all sharing this moment, and each of us is choosing what to do with it. Our awareness of now taught us how much you can fill now with. Friends have gotten married, had babies, started incredible news ventures, moved to different cities, finished books, learned how to make salsa, and run for office.
My friend John H. has taken up ventriloquism, which, he says, “my wife, daughters, and dog have all grown to hate.” He’s also written a book, which you should buy because it’s got corny jokes and all the profits go to charities fighting the pandemic.
JoBeth A. has been talking walks. “My husband and I have walked a different Athens-area neighborhood every day since March 15. We have seen parts of our town we didn’t know existed, demystified ‘dangerous’ neighborhoods, enjoyed the most creative yard art in the world, marveled at the variety and beauty of fully-landscaped yards and single roses, serendipitously seen so many friends we’ve been separated from for months, thanked everyone we’ve passed wearing a mask, and taken photos which I post on Facebook at the end of each day – extending the strong sense of community we feel on our walks. We never would have done this without Covid.”
Victoria C. says that “here in Amsterdam, our lockdowns have been medium-strict. When the weather was good I bought an inflatable kayak and took it out on the canals. When the weather has been shit (which, like- it’s Holland. That’s often) I’ve taken up a new hobby- beading/jewelry making! I used my hobby to raise money for democratic candidates by sending those who sent me proof of a donation a pair of custom made VOTE earrings :) hilariously, one night before I went to bed I tagged the Instagram account Tie Dyein’ for Biden, who had inspired me with their grassroots fundraising. Well, they reposted my earrings offer to their 10k+ followers - which promptly went viral in the US while I was asleep in Europe, so I woke up the next morning to over a hundred donation receipts and requests for earrings. And that, my friend, is how I raised $2k for dems with earrings! And also, why I am still making these earrings throughout December.”
Peter E. was working from home anyway. “I had written an outline & movie length script for a bizarre, surreal story called The Tik-Tok Man, set in Moscow [where I worked for several years]. Now I had no excuse but to use the lockdown period to convert it into a 10 episode series, which is what I eventually accomplished. I am a somewhat lazy writer so the COVID-19 lockdown was the perfect necessary catalyst to motivate me to be productive without leaving the house. Boredom = productivity. Now I am dealing with a Russian network to hopefully have the series produced. Due to pandemic restrictions, plus Russia’s high COVID-19 infection rate, this process has been slowed right down.”
Casey H. has been working “more hours than I ever have before (Thanks, Microsoft Teams).” He’s also read six books in eight months, “put in a hillbilly pool (i.e. stock tank), refinished backyard chairs by re-strapping the old vinyl with new, and got my first ever flip flop tan from working on the front porch every day!” he writes. “Not all bad I have to say! I could get used to this!”
Tiffany Y. M. puts a lot of us to shame. She “had two books published (Intuitive Editing and A Little Bit of Grace). Painted my office and guest bath. Hung curtains. Made countless batches of cookies and baked goods and gifted them to friends (and ate plenty). Launched a series of online courses for authors and created an editorial summit online event with a panel of five top editors. Created seven brand-new workshops/webinars for authors and presented with writers' organizations and groups across the country. Planted an oak tree. Wallpapered a wall of bookshelves. Failed miserably at sourdough bread, multiple times. Taught my dogs new obedience and tricks. Fought depression and despair. Discovered new awe and gratitude for humans' goodness and adaptability. Wrote letters for Vote Forward for the 2020 general election, and now doing the same for the Georgia runoffs. Donated to local food banks, as well as the ACLU and Planned Parenthood. Set up regular Zoom calls with friends, local and across the world, to fight isolation and maintain connections.”
Cookies, you say?
Sarah B., the best friend to you and me, has been doing a lot of stuff that would have happened anyway. “Like typing,” she says. “Too much typing. More interesting, though, is the stuff that wouldn’t have happened without the perspective-changing nudge that only a global pandemic can provide.
“Such as?
“Such as, I reconciled with two friends, reconstituted several other friendships that had faded a bit, and, for all other relationships, the pandemic reminded me not to save it for the eulogy. Tell them the good stuff now. I fell in love with my husband on Zoom. Or Teams or Slack or whatever app has teleported his mysterious work self into our spare bedroom where I can witness the masterful command of space, time, and spreadsheets that makes my stomach go all fluttery.
“Like, I finished the narration on a documentary in the most sound-proof spot in our house, my closet, after the studio where we’d been recording had to shut down. And now that magnificent creation will premiere air date on KLRU, December 29 at 8:30 PM. [ed. This admittedly lessens, somewhat, her anonymity. The republic shall survive.] Poignantly for me, the documentary is about the early fight to save my beloved hydrotherapy center, Barton Springs and I’d gone into mourning because it and Deep Eddy had been forced to close. After a week or two of moping, however, high anxiety drove me to become an open water swimmer.
“Thanks also to Mr. P., I discovered how much more I like distance-drinking with a couple of friends on our patio than any dinner party I’ve ever labored over.
“What else?
“I’ve gotten addicted to the NY Times’ word jumble game, Spelling Bee; I alphabetized my spice cabinet; and I have figured out how to virtually research the history of the Spanish Civil War with the help of an historian in Barcelona.”
Adam H. “went from never doing a crossword before in my life to being a full-fledged NYT crossword addict. Can’t start my day without it now. While in lockdown, the mental exercise of the crossword has been more meaningful to me than the rest of the NYT.”
Christian W. has “come closer to realizing my final form as a Hank Hill Texan: I've planted a yard of native turf that I've mildly obsessed over, finding more pleasure than I ever thought possible from handling a garden hose; my tomato garden is still producing more than two people can eat in late November; I've acquired all manner of tools—including at least four types of saws—for home improvement projects; and I've gotten to really know my neighborhood, not through alley-beer-drinking sessions but by paying attention to the daily shuffle of leaves and pets and people (and, I'll tell you what, thank god the kid next door has gotten better at the drums).”
Sharon N., who describes herself as a 72-year-old avid quilter, sometimes sews 8-10 hours a day. “During this time, I’ve fallen in love with refurbishing antique and vintage sewing machines. It started with a ‘found’ machine sitting on the curb. I’ve learned how to do this through a series of YouTube videos and specialized Facebook groups. I’ve never been very mechanical, and this new passion has surprised everyone even me. The hardest thing about it is giving them up when I’ve brought them back to life.
Right now I have two 100-year-old treadles, five 75-year-old Singers, and a few contemporary machines. Now I split my daily time between these two activities, and I’m truly enjoying learning more and more about the companies and the machines as well.”
Jen W. has found the space to quit. “In the beginning of the pandemic I realized I had an opportunity to discern what was worth my time. My typical schedule had me focusing outward: often a packed schedule tending to clients and others, on top of family life with two young kids left me scattered and exhausted. I was also casually, but regularly, drinking. When the shut down of normal life began (exactly 7 months, 2 weeks and 5 days ago) I decided to stop drinking. That small commitment allowed me the mental space to consider all my relationships: to others, sure, but also to habits, time, and purpose. It gave me space to quit doing things that were filling time but not giving me meaning.”
Steven O. discounts his efforts, though they exceed mine. “I must say I have been solidly in the surviving not thriving camp. The only actual accomplishment I can name is that I am only one and a half books away from checking ‘Read 52 books in 52 weeks’ off of my bucket list.”
Ray C. “was already a council watcher entering the pandemic, having jumped back into local politics during the runup to the 10-1 charter changes. My main interests are land use, homelessness, and policing. To that I added SARS-CoV-2 since my background is virology followed by eighteen years as a strange sort of medical editor. I sometimes synopsize my former work life as 45 years in the company of smart people. Yeah, I'm spoiled rotten. I kept up my career interests in retirement, so one pandemic-related thing that happened is that I quit counting when I reached eighty emails to my council rep on the subject of the novel coronavirus.”
My friend Elyse Y. is “taking guitar lessons. Dad gave me a stunning Gibson Country and Western a few years ago and I’m learning how to play it. Badly but having a lot of fun. I have callouses.”
I love Edgar B.’s story. “I spent much of 2019 looking for a job. It was the most difficult year of my life. Exactly 1 month before lockdown orders came through in Austin I found a gig with a small data-science start-up in town. I've thrived with them and been able to pay down all the debt I accrued the previous year as well as finally put my student loans to bed after 13 years of payments. I've finally found the stability I've sought so that I can start taking the next major steps of my life including buying an engagement ring (shh, don't tell my gf!), and replenishing savings so that we can build a life together. 2020 has been a complete opposite of my no good, terrible 2019. I know how lucky I've been and I plan to pay it forward.”
Everybody be cool about the ring.
All of these are great, but for my money Don A. tells the best story:
“I’m semi-retired (Environmental Science, private, government, etc) and 4 years ago I got a part-time job at H‑E‑B, primarily taking care of live goods (that’s retail jargon for plants) in the Texas Backyard Dept. of a store here in Waco. Along about February this year my manager had knee surgery so p-t became 40 hours a week. My Covid? I’ve been lucky. I go TO work and come home tired from 5-7 miles a shift on concrete. I get paid to care for plants. I somehow stumbled into a job with one of the most loved and respected companies in Texas. I get the health and pandemic advantage of mostly working outside and my customers are happy as opposed to the front end folks who get the hassles (cashiers and baggers are the rock stars, IMO). So, fun job, rewarding work, promotion to full time with benefits and a whole lot of, well, normal. No work from home, video meetings (except for volunteer groups), etc. There’s more laundry and showering, as I have to decontaminate after work (segregated work clothing) before greeting my wife. One sidebar: as part of general hand-to-face hygiene I did quit biting my fingernails. Should have done that sooner, good handy (!!) tool. Gardening requires extra cleaning but that’s not a bad trade. I reckon my new Covid skill is learning to clean my own fingernails.”
I’m thankful for Don’s fingernails, Edgar’s job, Elyse’s guitar, and everything else. I’m grateful for it all. I’m grateful to be with you all in the Uncertain Now, ready for anything that comes our way. And yes, that includes the pandemic.
How to Find Joy in 2020
by Sly Majid
My friend Sly Majid is one of the most interesting people you’ll ever meet. If creating social structures to facilitate volunteerism is a career path, he’s blazing it. I remember the day he walked into work at the Mayor’s office and said, “Jason, I’ve got an idea,” and proceeded to tell me about Donate and Dare, part fundraising platform, part performance art. (Seriously, this YouTube link is a Rabbit. Hole. Stick with it for seven-plus minutes until psychic liftoff.) But today he offers advice on finding joy in 2020. First, never say, “It can’t get any worse.”
PLEASE take the vaccine. Even if a few of us turn into zombies, it will be worth it to go to Chili’s again and not have to sit in the parking lot. If some politicians were telling the elderly to sacrifice themselves for the economy, it seems like the least you can do is take a vaccine that has a 5% chance of turning you into the living dead so I can enjoy some Southwestern egg rolls at a fast-casual restaurant.
The Unusual Suspect - Part II
by Jack Hughes
Political pop culture curator Jack Hughes, our very own Canadian sensation, is back with a mea culpa of sorts. That time last August when he uncovered a conspiracy by former Vice President Dan Quayle to elevate Mike Pence to the presidency? Yeah, he was way off base. Turns out, the answer was in front of his face the whole time.
Quayle looked statesmanlike invoking how he and George H.W. Bush respected democracy in 1992. To that end, Quayle employed an odd choice of language. “Unfortunately, we (sic) were the last incumbent president to lose, and it’s not easy.” We were the last incumbent president? We were president? Was it a characteristic Quayle slip of the tongue or was it a slip of the mask?
S3 E6: Find the Burn
by Sonia Van Meter
Halfway through season 3, we’ve figured out the nature of the Discovery’s quest: to find the origins of the Burn. Sonia Van Meter, who yet again failed to get through an episode without crying, points out that even when this show looks more Star Wars than Star Trek, they’re no longer a mission to seek out new life and new civilizations. This time, they’re trying to save their own.
It’s grim and dark and a surprisingly honest representation of indentured servitude for a franchise that has kept things so very PG for half a century.
Who we’ve lost
This physician
This architect
This baker
How we’re getting through it
Making baked mac & cheese
Making Momofuku’s bo ssam
Leaving a $3,000 tip for one beer
Scaring off wolves with a monster
Writing letters to voters in Georgia
Worrying about an invasion of dog-sized lizards
Staying away from using any of the 200 worst passwords
Making brussels sprouts with pickled shallots and labneh
Roasting broccoli with almonds and cardamom (Malai Broccoli)
What I’m reading
Monica Hesse: “‘The Queen’s Gambit,’ a period drama that erases sexism from 1960, is the best fantasy show of the year” - The rule of always reading Monica Hesse is ironclad and well-earned.
With “Mad Men”-esque costumes (the show spans the 1950s and 1960s), Russian nemeses, a kicky soundtrack and a triumphant battle against addiction — protagonist Beth struggles with barbiturates and alcohol — this show has everything. Except one thing. And the thing that it lacks is what makes it truly escapist.
Ryan Holiday: “The Maxim For Every Successful Person; ‘Always Stay A Student’” - ABS… Always be stealing…
Under Genghis Khan’s direction, the Mongols were as ruthless about stealing and absorbing the best of each culture they encountered as they were about conquest itself. Though there were essentially no technological inventions, no beautiful buildings or even great Mongol art, with each battle and enemy, their culture learned and absorbed something new.
Alex Hutchison: “COVID-19 is like running a marathon with no finish line. What does sports science say about how we can win it?” - Just keep swimming.
As it happens, there’s a whole subfield of sports science, at the intersection of physiology and psychology, that explores this terrain. It’s called teleoanticipation, a term coined in 1996 by German physiologist Hans-Volkhart Ulmer to describe how our knowledge of an eventual endpoint (or telos) influences the entirety of an experience. Using endurance sports as their medium, researchers in this subfield have probed what happens when you hide the finish line, surreptitiously move it or take it away entirely. For those of us tempted by promising vaccine updates to start fantasizing about an end to the pandemic, these researchers have some advice: don’t.
David Segal: “A Podcast Answers a Fast-Food Question That Nobody Is Asking” - How did I not know about this?
What started as a lark meant to amuse himself and his girlfriend has evolved into something far richer — a deadpan satire about podcasts, the business of podcasting and the quirks of investigative journalism. “Whatever” has a core audience of about 30,000 listeners, one of whom tattooed a pizza slice and the words “Thank you for your candor” above her ankle, a phrase Mr. Thompson intones after interviews that have shed little light.
What I’m watching
To know me well is to know my devotion to a specific subgenre, that of producers. I am ecumenical in what is being produced, whether music, movies what have you. What I am drawn to is the thrill of finding good art and launching it into the world. In that intersection between creativity and commerce lies magic, if you do it right. That magic animates Halt and Catch Fire, an AMC prestige series I was woefully late to find. The series finds its footing in the second through fourth season. The women were brilliant, imperfect, and human in a way you rarely see women portrayed. And the magic — especially the scene where Joe figures out “the door,” don’t worry, it’s worth the wait — is there. Halt and Catch Fire is streaming on Netflix, and Mackenzie Davis is a marvel. (By the way, here’s a link to the real story behind the first season. It’s pretty cool, especially if you’re a Texan.")
But that is not the Mackenzie Davis vehicle that we’re featuring this week. All your gay friends on Twitter are talking about Hulu’s Christmas romcom Happiest Season. They’re saying Dan Levy’s back must hurt from carrying the movie, that Kristen Stewart look incendiary in that vintage Thom Browne silvery-gray blazer worn with a white shirt and an undone tie, and that the chaotic coming-out story rang painfully true to so many. This is not a good guys-bad guys story. This is a story about a favored child trying to play a role in a family, the pain hiding one’s true self causes, and the good that can come from coming out of the closet. And for real: We all need that Big Jane Energy in our lives.
What I’m listening to
The soundtrack to Happiest Season? Yep. 100% LGBTQ+.
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Forget the Alamo: The Rise and Fall of the American Myth by Bryan Burrough, Chris Tomlinson, and myself comes out June 8 from Penguin Random House. There is no better way to support this book than to pre-order a copy. You’re going to love reading what really happened at the Alamo, why the heroic myth was created, and the real story behind the headlines about how we’re all still fighting about it today.
Thanks to Noom I am down to my college weight, and haven’t had to cut out any foods. I hit my goal weight before Memorial Day and have stayed within a few pounds either way ever since. This is easy. Noom is an app that uses psychology, calorie counting, and measuring activity to change your behavior and the way you think about food. I’m stronger and healthier than I’ve been in years. Click on the blue box to get 20% off. Seriously, this works.
Headspace is a meditation app. I’ve used it for a couple years and am absolutely shocked at how much it’s taught me about managing my inner life. Try it free for a couple weeks. Don’t worry if you’ve never done it before. They talk you through it.
I now offer personal career coaching sessions through Need Hop.
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