My friend Sue and my wife both tell me I’m exhausted – it’s true that things have been pretty frantic in my life these past few weeks. I think it’s true.

I don’t recall ever being quite so tired. I admit to not sleeping well, sometimes not at all. Zinnia and I have disturbed countless tickets this week walking in the deep woods.

It is something I really need to do.

Our farm is fine, Maria is selling her art, nobody at Bishop Maginn is hungry, no one at the Mansion is sick, their new fogger is being assembled, the aides all have some toys for their home-bound kids, Jean’s Place is busy and hanging on and giving the Mansion residents great food.

My corner of the world is well, alert, responsible, our eyes are wide open.

I’ve made a couple of wonderful new friends during this crisis, and I love having them in my life.

I am already loving my virtual writing workshop at Bishop Maginn’s remote classroom,  we’ve started work together on a book called “Interrupted Lives.”

In the book, Bishop Maginn writers will tell the story of being on the other side of the computer, holed up for weeks without any of their friends, teachers, or anchors.

Tonight, I’m taking this good advice from Sue and Maria. I really need to take a few deep breaths.

I love reading about Winston Churchill, I believe I have read every book ever written by him or about him, and that is a lot of books.

I love his confidence, his courage, his brilliant leadership instincts.

And he did help save Western Civilization, no small thing. I love that he always wrote at 2 a.m., while naked and drinking brandy. In fact, when he stayed at the White House he would march into Eleanor Roosevelt’s bedroom drunk and with no clothes on, and sit down to chat.

His words turned out to be more effective than all of the guns in Europe, and I love him for that as well. When he was broke, which was often,  he would crank out a novel or a history book to get some money.

I can only imagine what kind of world we would be living in today if not for him.

The new book is Erik Larson’s The Splendid And the Vile, the story of Churchill and his family during the Blitz when the Nazis start bombing London and England was hanging on by a thread.

No one who knew Churchill ever heard him doubt himself for a minute. He and King George loved to write around London together while bombs rained all around them.

When he was a young soldier, Churchill told a reporter that one day he would be Prime Minister and he would save England. He just stepped right into the role.

I admire and envy his sense of purpose and destiny, even though I would hate being anything like him. But I would love to spend some time with him.

I popped some popcorn the other night for the first time in my life, and I loved making it and eating it.

I will pop some more tonight and curl up with my book and with Zinnia at my feet, Maria in her chair reading, and a fire crackling. I’ve got some fresh hard cider ready. An angel whispered in my ear that I will be asleep within minutes.

I’m leaving the coronavirus behind for today and hopefully, for much of the weekend. I wish relief and peace for the sick, the dying and the frightened.  There are other good things to think about and write about. I want to get to some of them.

I feel I need to write and put up photos during this time, and I will keep at it during this weekend, it seems to matter to people, and that is important to me.

The hard thing about the virus is its uncertainty, I think, everyone is feeling their way and tiring of it. My heart goes out to the sick and also to the families who are running out of money and struggling to feed their children.

Tonight, I’ll put them aside. England has just declared war on Germany and the bombers are coming and Winston Churchill was asked to come and see King George.

“Do you know why I asked you to come to the palace,” asked the King.

No, said Churchill, I have no idea.

“I am asking you to become the Prime Minister,” said the King. “You might want to start thinking about your cabinet.”

Well, said Churchill, I happen to have a list of names right here in my pocket, he said, pulling out a type-written list.