To the editor:
(re: “What can we do?” March 26)
I am still scared. I am still furious. I see no end soon.
But enough about blame. We can’t take back that time. We have all lived lives stymied by blame. We have lost family and friends because of it.
Yes, we have someone to blame. Each time I see “him,” I get back on the blame train. It makes us feel better, but not more empowered now. We need to move on. We need to beg, to flatter, to hope.
We can’t forget to vote. We need to remember who we are and what we believe in. We need to share and call and open our eyes.
I am tired of being home. I cleaned enough, rearranged enough, tried to get Zoom or other sites, which still pose mysteries to me. I am ready to plant on the terrace if I can find seeds. I try to read, do a puzzle, but mostly I mope. I am scared about the elevators, about doorknobs and laundry rooms.
I miss my family and cried when Benjamin, living in Florida, said, “Gramma, I am coming soon to visit you.” And Mackie, 14, in California told me she is “social distancing from her parents.” My contact with others is a phone call or a video. Yours too. Not enough for any of us. We are in this together, and I hope out of it together.
I want my life back. I am going to be 77. I said I had plans. You have plans. Travel sites send me virtual trips. My Audubon Society sent bird pictures. I can take any class, see any art show, hear any concert. Friends send jokes. We struggle, but we persevere.
I listen to Cuomo, and I hope I can listen to Fauci. I do what I can. You do, too.
There is a beautiful magnolia in front of the Riverdale synagogue. Soon my buildings’ driveways will be lined with crab apple and cherry trees. I hope to see them.