That lying sack of crap, Anthony Fauci M.D., stole a year from us. And more than a year. He smashed millions of small businesses that took lifetimes to build up. He drained away the life savings of a generation of hard-working people. He interrupted and marred the education of tens of millions of children. He imprisoned a nation of 330 million and delayed marriages, births and every hope and dream of a nation. And the most horrible thing is that it was for no benefit whatsoever. The same people who would have died from COVID did die and are dying despite all of the useless torture that was inflicted on the healthy population of our country. He is a tin-pot Pol Pot. May he roast in Hell.
But yesterday was a renewal. Almost all the descendants of my parents were gathered together in one place and time and enjoyed a party that included all the familiar and life-affirming rituals of a summer get together. And even the weather blessed us with perfection. Eighty-two degrees, bright sun with just a few wispy clouds, bone dry air and a refreshing breeze. Just warm enough for some people to go in the pool and just cool enough to let the young at heart toss around a baseball or play a few lawn games with their kids and grandkids and even let one person watch her great-grand-children play.
Camera Girl in her culinary wisdom decided that instead of a barbecue she would cook the traditional Southern Italian peasant feast. Ziti baked with cheese, eggplant parmigiana, meatballs, sausage and to start with, our version of an antipasto. Huge portions were devoured with zeal and fueled loud and animated shouting about amusing and nonsensical things. And in my earshot, there was not a moment of political discussion or anger. Spirits were higher than high. The highlight of the day for me was a four-way catch with two of my grandsons and a nephew. I haven’t really had a good long baseball catch since forever. Even the afternoon sun that was directly in my eyes I found enjoyable. I actually felt young again. Maybe today my shoulder is a little sore but it felt fine while we were out in that golden sun.
When my younger daughter showed up with her little 2 ½ year old girl the baby was terrified by all of the old fat strange-looking men shouting to be heard over each other in the meal hall I set up with folding tables and chairs. After all, she has spent her entire conscious life in lockdown and hardly saw anyone but her parents and grandparents. A cacophony of sound and strange faces truly frightened her. But her mother was smart. She took the baby outside on the deck and then into the swimming pool that she loves and there she was able to meet and play with the other children and slowly by degrees bring her back to the crowded areas where even the loudest old men were, at this point, too gorged with food to make much noise or even move. So even that residue of the Fauci curse was lifted. From two to ninety-two everyone was partaking in an old-fashioned family get together.
And I will be honest when I say that the relief to finally all get together made this the most enjoyable, least stressful gathering I can ever remember. By the time the pie and ice cream and coffee were finished and sun was long below the horizon everyone was satisfied and ready to gather their children and say their goodbyes and head back on the road to home. But promises were made to get together at the other homes for other occasions and other holidays. Labor Day and Thanksgiving and Christmas lie ahead. And we have broken the ice and hopefully we won’t allow that creepy little man to steal anymore of our lives away again. It’s over and normal life has returned.