October and kingdoms rise...

It's been, thus far, a deliciously mild autumn - jackets are optional; the air isn't quite chilly, the trees haven't been stripped of leaves, etc. yet.  A strange time, however - still; we're all in this purgatory and, it seems, certain politicians are trying to instill a new wave of panic and fear that this pandemic is rising again.  I'm not falling prey to any of it - I continue to conduct my life the same way I have, since this began:  wear a mask; keep a safe distance from others, always practice common-sense hygiene (shocking how so few people understand this concept!) and don't go out, if it isn't necessary.  I already had my flu shot a few weeks ago (haven't missed one since 1996); I take my daily regimen of vitamins and supplements and try to maintain a calm and balanced life.  This isn't so difficult, but media loves to make mountains out of molehills.

Nonetheless, it's a quiet time, which I treasure.  The joy of going out the other night to a wonderful, delicious dinner at a nice restaurant indoors for the first time since March (to celebrate our 22nd wedding anniversary) was a huge moment - low key, but perfect and an evening of pure joy.  Been reading a lot more again; picked up my guitar again and at last report from my colonoscopy follow up, I've lost 18 pounds, which is a thrill, frankly.

So in wrapping this entry up, I was just alerted to the very sad news that Eddie Van Halen has died at age 65.  I was immediately catapulted back to the summer of '83, when we had just graduated from high school.  We spent many nights, driving around in my friend Darren's car, blasting Van Halen's Diver Down album and it's a memory I treasure.  I saw Van Halen in July, '81, at Madison Square Garden with Judas Priest as the opening band - they were one of the few heavy rock bands I really liked (being a "punk" rocker didn't allow or accept such transgressions...).  To this day, I still love those original Van Halen albums, from the debut through to 1984, and this is just another one of those ugly reminders of how brief our own stars shine.