This was the year that kept on giving pounds of grief in Florida — and a pinch of joy | Opinion
If I had to write the epitaph for 2021’s gravestone, it would be this: Here lies the year that kept on giving — pounds of grief and a pinch of joy.
But wait, wasn’t that 2020, when we celebrated birthdays in quarantine, postponed weddings, missed ebullient holiday parties, lost precious loved ones and, in the process of suffering and mourning losses, recovered lost parts of ourselves in our solitude, the only solace besides sheer survival?
It’s much worse now as we transition into the new year, the omicron variant of COVID-19 poised to remain, in terms of the sheer numbers of infected, the greatest public health challenge of our lifetime.
Florida has surpassed 4 million confirmed COVID cases and is reporting record numbers of new ones — more than we ever saw daily during the deadliest stretch of COVID.
And no quarantine, a political hot potato, this time being encouraged in Gov. Ron DeSantis’ anti-mandate Florida.
Hope vs. results
This was supposed to be the year that science birthed more than hope — and nothing less than results. Vaccines. Climate change solutions, or at least, mitigation. Yet, it feels like we have rinsed and repeated the sins, the downs of that last year of Trumpism. Even the upside of a new president in the White House comes with a veneer of disappointment to too many.
The state of the nation — and certainly, Florida and the handling of the virus, specifically — isn’t Joe Biden’s fault exactly. But Americans polled blame the president for just about everything, from gas prices to inflation, and in Florida, for the shortage of Regeneron for the state’s monoclonal antibody treatment program. It’s been DeSantis’ hobby horse as he continues to peddle medication over life-saving vaccines.
And so, the propaganda machinations and misinformation that now are a staple of American life, as it is in totalitarian nations, have eroded the valuable act of practicing critical thinking.
Yes, we saved democracy from the unthinkable and shameful Jan. 6 attack on the U.S. Capitol by radical right-wingers. But the supporting cast — including the 147 Republicans who voted to overturn the 2020 election results — are still sowing the cowardly seeds of fear-mongering and division for pure political gain.
And there’s not an iota of a sign that in the new year anything in the dismal political landscape that now consumes our lives will change. In fact, with midterm elections, it will get even worse, and purple states like Florida will continue to endure extreme political temperatures.
We only let the politics go for the fleeting moment of raw tragedy, summed up in one word now known across the nation as a symbol of epic building failure that greed can bring decades later: Surfside.
So come on, 2022, sock it to us.
Here we are again, unable to feel the bountiful joy of holidays, in large part thanks to the pandemic’s new tenant, omicron, so far the more contagious and rapidly spreading variant. How many times will I have to use that description?
We have a right to be weary and worn.
Turns out, even dogs are depressed.
I write these last words of 2021 from someone else’s apartment, a stand-in for where I should be but am not, safer if not happier here than in South Florida, the forever epicenter for the virus in Florida.
Because 2021.
Next door, a poor dog left behind by its owner wails, a moan of longing I wish I could soothe. I’m sad enough that my daughter’s cat, Punky, ran away when I was house-sitting, returning only to eat and flee again. This dog and his mourning opens the wound.
I ask Alexa to play my favorite jazz great, Stan Getz, to drown out the dog. I’ve been told he does this every time his owner leaves, then at some point he settles down, but yesterday, he moaned day and night.
Today he’s at it again.
The melody seeping through these frail walls only seems to be inspiring the dog to express his lament louder, so I ask Alexa to give us the more upbeat trumpet of Miles Davis. And then, the desired outcome happens.
The dog stops moaning.
Is he listening? Is he amused or defeated?
It doesn’t matter. I’ll take the Miles-inspired respite. And, there it is, the cure-all for what ails us: Mustering gratitude.
I’m served another dose of medicinal gratitude when my daughter texts a picture of herself with Punky in her bedroom — an end-of-year miracle when almost all hope of getting her back was fading.
“She walked right up to the patio, crying so loud for her food,” my daughter said. “She rubbed against Cody [the little dog] and kept crying. I was so afraid to scare her so I dropped down to the floor slowly and grabbed the pipe cleaner [her favorite toy]. As soon as I held it out, she came right for me [insert crying emoji].”
Life, liberty & inspiration
And so, the vile pandemic continues to shine a light on vital things we can’t afford to ignore: “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,” as the Declaration of Independence promised us. Life is a fragile borrowed gift. So is liberty if we don’t guard it. And happiness isn’t something you wait for. It’s something you build with actions every day.
For me, the irony of living with the threat of COVID-19 contagion at every corner is that the frailty of the days has led to living a healthier, happier life.
In the midst of it all, what saved my 2020, my 2021 and, I suspect, will also be inspiration into the new year: You, my readers.
Your company is steady and faithful.
You are my wings.
Thank you, and here’s wishing that 2022 brings us better.
This story was originally published December 31, 2021 at 6:00 AM.
