I thought of pre-dating this post, because I missed taking notice of the blog's fourteenth anniversary on May 21, in part because I'd hadn't posted since April. I bring this up because an acquaintance from many years back checked in with me by e-mail, concerned that I hadn't posted in over a month. I reassured him that I'm all right, my health is normal, don't worry. (A couple of months ago I got email from someone who was worried about the blogger Arthur Silber, who's been inactive without explanation since 2019. Since I had Silber in my blogroll, my correspondent hoped I might know how he's doing. I don't know. I have far fewer readers than Silber, but I'll try to give some kind of alert to you if I can when I stop.)
I don't know why I'd stopped writing here for so long. I had numerous ideas for posts, but I let them go past me. At 70, I have somewhat less energy, and in fact I've been somewhat less active on other social media too. Part of the problem may be lethargy brought on by the comparative isolation caused by the COVID pandemic. It may be a low-grade depression such as many people have suffered in the past fourteen months; I thought I'd escaped it, but maybe not.
Maybe it's connected to the opening up we're seeing now. You might think that the euphoria of having made it through, of being vaccinated and feeling relatively safe, would have given me new impetus to write; but maybe it doesn't work that way. In some ways it's the opposite: yes, we can interact with people again -- in fact I just returned from a five-day visit to Bloomington, where I saw numerous friends face-to-face for the first time in over a year, and it was wonderful. But at the same time, like many people, I've felt that we're in a kind of limbo. Is it over? Will it ever be over? Is it safe? Where should I wear a mask, and where don't I need to?
At any rate I'm still here. My friend's nudge may have been what I needed to get moving again. Thanks to him, and to those who are still reading me.
