Dear Joanie,

    Now it's been only a week since I've written. Your great grandad Dougie is in our house on  Zoom with his book group.  They are discussing The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck.  You should probably read it, but I'm mixed about that. Not my favorite, but important for portraying the plight of people during the Great Depression, the one that happened in the 1930s, just before I was born.  He has his laptop in his lap (where else?), and as I left to come into my studio, I saw the faces of five men on his computer screen. This is life in COVID. They used to meet in person, of course, but we've been sheltering at home since March, so it's seven, count them, seven months since they have seen each other face to face. 

    In Boulder, the students returned to CU (where your great granddad taught and where I got my Ph.D.). They acted as college students will, having parties, not wearing masks. So as September comes to a close, all classes went remote for two weeks. The newspaper also posted a list of addresses that had violated COVID restrictions, and those places, mostly fraternity and sorority houses, were put on notice of being shut down.  All of that because CU is now listed as an "outbreak site," like nursing homes, for example. There has been a spike in cases and the above are measures to bring the number of cases down again. We were doing so well....

    Your mother's birthday is coming up on the 5th and mine on the 11th of October, and I'm feeling incredibly lonely about that. We usually gather in New York or here to celebrate. Last year, it being my 80th, your mom and dad, your Grandmother Coco, Great Aunt Julie, Great Uncle André all came to celebrate. On the Saturday morning of my birthday, I met your parents and grandmother at the St. Julien Hotel. We walked to Ozo for coffee, and as we sat down at a table with coffee and cappuccino, and latte, your mother told me that she had something to tell me.  She looked quite happy and your father was beaming, so I thought maybe they had both gotten jobs in Boulder and would be moving here. That was my first thought, so I was smiling too. But, of course, the news was that she was pregnant with you, so I started crying with joy. I had to go to the bathroom to collect myself, blow my nose, wash my face, and pull myself together as I contemplated having a great grandchild.  We had many plans to come to your baby shower and to come see you when you were born, and, of course, come on my birthday. But, alas.  

80th Birthday at Chautauqua Oct 11, 2019  

    Nevertheless, I have enjoyed the photos of you that have been shared this week. In two of them, you are reading a book with your mother. Your bright eyes are focused on the page and you are smiling. It's a large picture book, and I can't make out the name of it, but it's bigger than you. I wouldn't be surprised if you were actually reading it.

    And now for the horrid part of this week. You will know that politics means a great deal to me. I vote in every election. I always carefully examine all the issues and read as much as I can about candidates and proposed laws that will be on the ballot. Your great grandad is the same, and we have long talks about who and what we will vote for and why. We are Democrats, as I've mentioned, and we strongly believe that we are here to help others. We vote for universal health care, and we vote for programs that will help people in need with food, clothing, shelter. I have worked at food banks and homeless shelters a good deal in my life.

    But that's background. To get back to my horrid week. It is an election year, as I've told you, and traditionally, since the middle of the 20th century, presidential candidates have held debates leading up to the election. Last night was the first one. I invited two neighbors over who are part of our "bubble," whom we're able to let into our house, even though we still use precautions.  I fixed little plates of apple pie, two cookies, and four strawberries for everyone, and I had wine, cider, water, and coffee to drink. It felt like I was getting ready for a Superbowl party. 

    It took less than five minutes for the whole thing to fall apart.  It was utter and complete chaos. Trump would not adhere to the rules of debate and shouted and talked over Biden as he was trying to answer questions. He was blustery and red in the face. Biden told him to "shut up," and called him a clown and the worst president we've ever had. He's not wrong. We couldn't hear any of Biden's answers because Trump kept interrupting and the talk got louder and louder. After about thirty minutes,  Annie sat up and said, "That's it for me. I'm out of here." And walked out the door. Darian stayed with Doug and me, but after a while she got out of her chair and started walking around. I asked her if her back was bothering her, and she said, "No, I'm just so anxious I have to pace." It's hard to describe how traumatic it was to watch this so-called debate. Even one of the commentators said afterwards, "Whew! I just hope everyone out there is okay."  This election cannot come soon enough.

    It's still smoky outside from the wildfires in the West, but the trees are turning colors--red maples and golden aspen. All will be well--eventually.

            Love,

            Great Grandma Katie