Most of the time, the posts on this blog avoid the political, and world events are seldom mentioned. Instead, the focus is on life in the hinterlands of central Maine. I’m a homebody who seldom travels more than twenty miles from my town. I dwell in the particular, on the edge of a small forest where the wind moves through the tops of the pines and a snake sometimes suns itself on my patio and a bear once smashed flat our bird feeder.

However even in central Maine—far from the center of things—world events can dominate. With Russia invading Ukraine, now is such a time. If there is one thing the pandemic has taught me is that there is no “there.” What happens across the globe ripples outward, touching all countries, no matter how far apart they are. Once upon a time, what happened in a Neanderthal village might have stayed in a Neanderthal village. But those days are gone, and the United States is now inextricably linked to the rest of the world, from Africa to China to Russia to Europe. And as the twentieth century has illustrated, especially to Europe.

What will happen next with Russia, Ukraine, and the world? Naturally, no one can know. But Clif observed that while Afghanistan felt like Vietnam, Ukraine feels more like Poland. I hope this impression springs more from a sense of unease than from any kind of foresight. A world war with an authoritarian leader who has nuclear weapons is terrible to contemplate.

Amidst the gloom, there is a glimmer of hope. In the New York Times, I read, “Thousands of protesters took to the streets and squares of Russian cities on Thursday to protest President Vladimir Putin’s decision to invade Ukraine…Many Russians, like people across the world, were shocked to wake up and learn that Mr. Putin had ordered a full-scale assault against a country often referred to as a ‘brotherly nation.’ At the protests, many people said they felt depressed and broken by the news of Russian military action.”

But this is just a glimmer. Unfortunately, as we have seen in our own country, tribalism and nationalism are always lurking, and authoritarian leaders know how to whip up a frenzy for conflict and war.

Frank Bruni, also in the New York Times, gives this sobering assessment of Putin and Ukraine: “Embarrassment, vanity, viciousness: History never moves on or gets past these forces, which drove invasions and conquests in centuries past and will drive invasions and conquests in years to come. There should be no great shock about Russia’s audacious attack on Ukraine — only profound sadness and painstaking thought about what to do and what’s to come.”

When I shared Bruni’s quotation on Facebook, I got some pushback from a friend who wrote “As long as most people say war and destruction are inevitable, just part of life, it will be.”

I sympathize with that sentiment. How nice it would be to say war and destruction are not inevitable, and then have no more war.

If only it were that easy.

Several days ago, when I went shopping with my daughter Dee, I fell flat on my face outside of Kohl’s.  I mean this quite literally. One minute I was upright, and the next minute I had pavement pressing against my forehead and mouth. The fault was mine; I wasn’t paying attention. When I came to the curb, I walked along as though it weren’t there. But it was there, and down I fell.

A woman came rushing over. “Are you all right?”

Was I all right? As Dee helped me to my feet, I tasted blood, but miraculously no teeth seemed to be broken. I felt my nose. That, too, was fine. As far as I could tell, nothing was broken.

“I think I’m all right,” I said. “Thank you.”

“That darned curb!” the woman said, making me feel a little less stupid.

Yeah, that darned curb! Why the heck is it there, right in front of the entry way?  What purpose does it serve? In the end, of course, I should have noticed the curb and stepped over it, but I appreciated the woman’s kind words.

Dee and I went shopping in Kohl’s. I was in a bit of a daze, but I followed her around, giving her advice for Christmas presents.

Afterward, we went grocery shopping, a grim event as my right knee was really starting to ache. By the time I came home, I could hardly walk. It seems I had sprained my knee.

Ever since, I have been one with the living room couch, where I can sit with my legs outstretched. I do have a cane, which has been a big help, and every day my knee continues to improve. Today I even feel well enough to sit at my desk and write this post of my woes. (Never fear. If my knee hadn’t improved, I would have gone to the hospital for X-rays.)

In the United States, we celebrate Thanksgiving tomorrow, and it is a time for feeling grateful. You can bet I am feeling grateful that when I fell on the pavement, I didn’t break anything. It still amazes me that all my teeth are in my mouth and that my nose wasn’t broken. And I feel nothing but gratitude for having such a sturdy body.

You can also bet the next time I go anywhere, I will be on the lookout for curbs.

Here we are, one year into the pandemic. Other bloggers are noting this anniversary and rightly so. Covid-19 is one of the seminal events of our lifetimes, affecting not only states, regions, or certain countries but also the entire world.

Did I see it coming? Yes, I did. Starting in January 2020, I was keeping close track of where the virus was and how fast it was spreading. When Covid-19 left China at the end of that month, I knew it would travel easily to the rest of the world. Planes, trains, and automobiles became friends of the virus. (Click here for NBC’s timeline of the pandemic.)

In February, I started preparing. I can smugly report that I stocked up on toilet paper and other essentials that became nearly impossible to find. We put up plastic shelving in my husband’s office, and the room soon came to resemble a grocery store. I like to think I wasn’t hoarding and instead was stock piling, but I know there can be a fine line between the two.

What I hadn’t anticipated was how long the pandemic was going to last. In my naivety, I expected Covid-19 to be gone by summer, much like the seasonal flu. How wrong I was. Despite what certain politicians initially wanted us to believe, Covid-19 is no seasonal flu. Instead, it is a new and deadly virus that our bodies are unprepared for.

The first week of March, Clif and I went into a personal lock-down. How lucky we are to have our own modest but snug home and pensions that  cover the necessities of life.  We could easily hunker down and stay safe.

But our eldest daughter Dee lives in New York City, which soon become one of the epicenters of the pandemic. Day and night, ambulances rushed patients to the hospitals, and in the background we could hear sirens wailing, one after another, when we spoke to her on the phone.

Again, luck was with our family. Despite having plenty of opportunities to be exposed to Covid-19, Dee, along with the rest of her office, somehow dodged the bullet. More good fortune: She can do her job from her own apartment. Sometime in March 2020, Dee’s office allowed everyone to work from home and has continued to do so.

Still, we worried terribly about her, and many is the time I wished Dee were with us in Winthrop instead of by herself in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn. But that woman has fortitude in spades and has weathered the pandemic with courage and resourcefulness.

Ditto for our North Carolina kids, Shannon and her husband Mike. North Carolina, so far away from Maine, was another Covid-19 hotspot, but Shannon and Mike were able to work from their apartment much of the time and thus far have not contracted this dreadful disease.

Hoo-boy! Worrying from afar is no fun. At all.

What to say about the rest of year? Holidays spent lonely and alone. Zoom calls serving as visits. Socially-distanced gatherings with friends on the patio. Masks, an essential accessory.

On a national level, it has been nothing less than a surreal experience as we watched politicians lie and deny and make a bad situation ever so much worse. You all know whom I’m talking about. History will not judge them kindly even if today they are still bloviating and lying and in the news.

This country endured a nail-biting election, a big lie about the outcome, a beautiful if subdued inauguration of a new president who has hit the ground running and is doing his best to get the country back on track.

Then, the assault on the Capitol. With horror and grief, we watched on the news as this horrible event happened in real time. Another impeachment followed by more lies and an acquittal.

What. A. Year.

However, there have also been bright spots. Essential workers—doctors, nurses, grocery store clerks, farmers, bakers, teachers, and many others—kept society running, often at great risk to themselves. Building on past research of other coronaviruses, scientists from many countries worked together and raced to find vaccines for Covid-19. And by gum they have. The roll-out has not been smooth. How could it be when our goal is to vaccinate the world? But great progress is being made.

Technology has been a blessing, a way to stay in touch with loved ones.

And you, my blogging friends, have also been a blessing. Near and far, you have helped keep me connected and sane.

I will end with this song by R.E.M. Oddly enough, despite this crucible of a year, I do feel fine.