I learned some years ago that I learn a lot more from trouble than from normalcy and good fortune.

Everything is a gift if you want to see it that way, and I do see it that way.

A crisis like this Pandemic asks us to figure out who we are, who our friends are, how far love can go to sustain us, who loves us, and who we love.

Can we change, can we grow, can we stay grounded and adapt? Can we help others, and also get what we need?

Maria and I are both intense and sometimes volatile people.

We work hard, are self-driven in the way people without regular paychecks and dicey revenue sources often are. If we don’t take care of ourselves, who will take care of us?

In the first few weeks of this crisis, I was disoriented.

I was cut off from two of the primary people and places I write about – the Mansion and Bishop Maginn High School. I couldn’t see or talk to the people I love and write about. Zinnia stopped doing her therapy work; there was no place we were welcome now.

In the past year, I’ve chosen to make this work my only work; it just takes a ton of time.

As the bad news piled up, I wondered if the Army Of Good would remain in a position to support this work, or if they would even want to.

Maria worried about being able to sell her art when so many people were hurting. It is easy for people like us to seem vulnerable because we are.

We got testy and exploded at each other three or four times –  unusual for us, yet necessary and even healthy now. We were tense; we were on edge; we were unsure. It had to go somewhere.

I couldn’t even be sure our technology and the Internet would hold up under all of this weight. I missed the Mansion residents and the kids at Bishop Maginn. And of course, I was worried about toilet paper.

Then we started to change, evolve, react, and adapt.

I like Thomas Merton’s definition of love – caring about the good of the other. I realized that Maria was frightened that I would do something stupid or get sick and die (or both.)

I worried that she might lose heart if she stopped selling her work; she has worked so hard to make her studio function and her art relevant to people.

I soon realized that I could still do my work. I started raising money for Mansion lunches, art supplies, meals for the aides, and last week, a $3,000 disinfectant flogger to keep the Mansion as safe as is possible from the virus.

I realized that I’ve learned a lot and am more effective and focused than ever.

Working only at home, I was more productive than before. I’m a killer at finding things people need at the lowest cost.

The Army Of Good responded instantly to the fogger and the lunches, and to a call for grocery Gift Cards for the refugees and their families, some of who no longer had the money for groceries.

People did not abandon our work; they responded to the call. We’re doing more good than ever, feeding the hungry, raising the morale of the elderly, supporting Bishop Maginn’s remote classroom project with computers and cables and software.

Maria went on a creative blitz, making posters, magnets, masks potholders, and hanging pieces. She set up Zoom video chats with her friends, the ones she had, and the new ones coming into her life.

She realized that what she needed was friends who were present for her, and she has found some wonderful ones.

I realized that what she needed from me was to understand that I was upsetting her by not being as careful as I should be, wanted to be, and was advised to be. So I got careful and worked to ease her worry.

I also realized that she needed to work hard to assure herself that she was okay, and her freedom to make her art was okay. She started working until 10 p.m. every night until she dropped. She still is. And so and I.

I never thought that after being ordered to shelter in place, I would be busier than ever, and do more.

Maria and I are in a good place. We are both more certain and confident. We can handle this. We will handle this.

I don’t have many friends, but the ones I do have – like Sue Silverstein – were available for me, she and I talk every day. I reconnected with my sister Jane, and we have been talking regularly. I reconnected with an old journalism friend, his name is Steve, and we are talking to one another.

I decided to use my previous journalistic experience to try to help people understand the politics of the coronavirus, I didn’t see to much-balanced analysis in the media, and I don’t do the left and right thing.

The first piece I wrote got 30,000 shares on Facebook. I love doing this writing and feel good about it. I’ve had the most wonderful response.

I think I can contribute something people want and need, and avoid the hateful writing and talking and messaging that is present so much of our political life.

Not too many people were authors, political reporters, and media critics.

It fits the times. I never thought there would be a need for those skills again. You just never know.

Several people complained that they only wanted to see photos and stories about dogs and animals; they didn’t wish to r writing about politics. People who do that don’t belong on my blog, and they are not my friends, and I told them as much.

There are millions of blogs out there, go forth and find one you like, nobody is held here against their will. It never ends well when people tell me what I should be writing about. It never ended well when bosses told me, it never ends well when readers tell me.

And they never quite quit trying.

Maria and I also stepped up the number of our podcasts, and the response was friendly.

We both have been busy. We keep an eye on each other, and when we see one or the other of us start to get nervous and pessimistic, we step in and talk. We feel we are useful, needed.

Maria takes long walks in the woods; I take shorter ones with Zinnia. Every night, we sit and meditate with the fish before bedtime.

Maria drives with me anyplace I go where I need to make contact with people. She does it.

We have settled down. My daughter and granddaughter have become more remote again, Emma is swamped with work and Robin has been home for a month. I check in once or twice a week but mostly leave her alone.

I am not needed right now. I wish I could have been more helpful. But I don’t want to be there.], nor do I think my presence would be useful right now.

Twice a week, we Zoom with friends. I’m not crazy about Zoom talk, but it a connection to other people.

So we talk to people, we have people in our lives. Once a week, we go to Saratoga for fresh fruit and produce. Once or twice a week, we get lunch or dinner at Jean’s Place.

Once a week, we go to Williamstown for Indian or Asian food. There is no such thing as a peaceful Pandemic, but ours is busy and productive and full of meaning. She is making beautiful art that people want, I am doing more good and in a better way, than ever.

I can’t speak for her, but my love for her only grows and deepens, the virus brought us even closer together and helped us to value our relationship even more. I wasn’t sure that was possible.

The foundation of our life is that we each support the other in everything we wish to do. Maria understands when I am lost in a piece, I am thinking of writing – the political stuff takes thought and care. I know when her head is rooted in a design for a potholder or quilt.

We reassure one another, prop each other up, comfort and love each other, and leave the other alone when need be. We talk to our friends, but mostly, we talk to each other. After ten years, it never gets old or strained or tired.

I love her for her energy, honesty, strength, and creativity.  I  love her for loving me. I feel appreciated and known. I appreciate sex as well; I thought it was gone from my life.

But the big thing for me is that working through this awful time broadened the trust we have for each other, as well as the love. With something like this, you either come out of it better, or you come out of it worse.

We came out of it better.

We haven’t had any sparks these last two weeks; we know when to talk and when to shut up.

Maria is a miracle in my life, one I will never take for granted.