Anyone who remembers who I used to be, that is, what I used to be like, compared to this lazy self-indulgent creature, might wonder, if she cared, what happened to me.

Cl0vid and age, lockdowns and aging, isolation and agism.

Also, finally, reality and acceptance.

When Covid shut the theatres, the New York Times reported on the theatre and told me what was happening. Disaster. Of course, it has survived. New writing and new faces emerged, new venues were discovered and new methods. Theatre had a separate seciton in the Times last week on the season to come. Cinemas have opened and live theatre too. Streaming is available with intelligent, exciting, even profound, rich writing. I knew, I trusted, that this would happen. But I also recognized that it would happen without me. I would and have become a bystander, an audience with less involvement. I lack the resources—energy and money— to engage the way I did. I can no longer participate the way I did. I can’t get in again, even to the limited way I did.

I am too old.