The “Stones” said it best, “Paint it Black.”

Partially out of boredom, partially necessity, my front door is getting remodeled. Like many projects, this started out simply enough to rebuild/replace the original 1960 bespoke door knob. It was not meant to be so a modern unit became the plan. For anyone curious most door knobs are centered approximately 2 1/8″ from the door edge, ours had a backset of 7″ requiring the knob to be moved 5″. ‘Nuff said on that. My wife had just completed a remodel of our entryway which made our door look like hell anyway, so before installing new hardware we decided to paint it black. My preference would have been to spray it, but in our new cloistered world, hand brushed enamel was the best option.

Eileen called yesterday. She is my aunt. Two years ago we didn’t know each other existed until a DNA test showed her brother-in-law was my father. After building a relationship primarily through correspondence and over the phone with her and husband Charles, my wife Lisa and I decided to visit in person. Unfortunately, Charles passed away before we could meet. We had the pleasure of spending 2 days with her at her home in Gerber California and were given access to my fathers belongings that they had kept since he died in 2005. Hearing from her is always a treat and the closest I will ever come to knowing my father.

Like many (or most) communities around the country, our condo building is a shelter-in-place for 24 different families. We have all coexisted well; generally in person and most often on the ground floor entrance and/or riding in our intimate (read small) elevator. As personal restrictions have increased in the real world, it is mirrored in our building. One needs no more evidence of this than to read our email feed. Whether it is the protocol for using a main resident access door, how often to sanitize all surfaces or limiting the number of visitors, the anxiety in this building is palpable. It is well documented the shortage of PPE (Personal Protective Equipment) for our medical community and while I cannot help with N95 masks, gloves is something I have ready access to. When I read the latest series of emails trying to determine how often you can clean/reuse gloves, I started to grasp the concern this pandemic was having on my neighbors. I have let them know (through that email feed) that I will be happy to provide fresh gloves to one and all. Nice to still be essential!