And I’m back. I’d wish you a Happy New Year, but it’s almost March, so that ship’s sailed. Like many, I’m juggling working from home, handling Cristian’s remote learning, while maintaining some level of normalcy — or trying to.
I haven’t posted in 169 days, and although I haven’t been posting, I haven’t been away from the keyboard. This blog has a fresh look. Thank you Richie Williams, aka St Louis Dad, for redesigning the logo. I created a writer’s website, frankpriegue.com, thank you Jacob Kenneally for your expertise.
Shameless plugs and promos aside, I also created a profile on Medium to showcase my work to a larger audience, and have been busy adapting I’m Not Grandpa from blog to book form. Okay, now I’m done with the self-promotion.
2020 started with such promise — I lost 15 pounds, signed up for a writing class, and Cristian’s educational needs were being met by a team of dedicated teachers and therapists. After a few rough years, there was hope the new year would bring better things.
Then came the plague.
The Coronavirus aka COVID-19 changed lives globally. At first, it kept me busy stocking up on toilet paper, canned goods, and adjusting to a new normal. At the time I thought, how long could it last — three months, maybe six months tops.
In the past year, Covid, social distancing, and Fauci became part of our vocabulary. Watching news conferences by the mayor, governor, and the president became daily viewing as a medical issue became a political one. A contentious presidential election, riots, protests, and marches were seen daily as history was unfolding before our eyes.
At the end of the year, I wasn’t sad to see 2020 go, but after experiencing the PTSD a father does after watching his wife push a 15-pound baby through her loins, I doubted 2021 was going to be better.
The new year didn’t disappoint either. Two months in, insurrectionists stormed the Capitol, severe weather in Texas caused power outages causing millions to go without heat, electricity, and clean drinking water, and Covid has taken over 500,000 lives. That’s more people than the population of Atlanta. It’s as if 2021 said hold my beer to 2020.
Maybe Darwin was right. Wait, didn’t I write that already?
After spending much of the past year sequestered to protect my 6-year-old son and 91-year-old mother, I’m ready to turn the corner. We’re not there yet, but we’re in a better place than we were a year ago. The FDA approved three vaccines, and a plan for getting shots in arms is coming together. It would be nice to visit friends, see a movie or go to a ballgame. Now if we could only vaccinate for stupid.
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