My wife and I are hunkered down, enjoying ourselves as much as we can. I am 91 now and taking no chances. At night, we often watch old CDs of movies and Broadway shows, and have been delighted to discover that they now seem new!
When we have to go out for medical appointments, we wear new old-stock N95, 3M masks, left over from painting my mailbox—by far, the best protection obtainable, if you are lucky, from the virus (now provided only to surgeons). My wife does all the shopping over the phone, and does not even have to get out of her car—just presses a button to open the trunk, once it is loaded.
I spend my days finishing the biography I have been writing for years, as usual. I hope to have it published soon.
We still read the Wall Street Journal each morning, looking for encouraging news, but the response of U.S. business and government has, so far, been shockingly disorganized—a pathetic, incompetent response, compared to that of many developed countries.
We seldom miss having occasional restaurant meals, and mainly worry about the future of our descendants, since they are facing far less secure lives in the future than we have enjoyed, ourselves.
Watching the COVID-19 upheaval has been so unpredictable that we have no idea what will come next. We are hoping that businesses will recover soon enough to avoid a major depression, and I felt far more secure growing up during the first one, than I do now.