This past week was a week of letters. The first letters had very good news: I discovered that my latest book got a grant for an English translation along with another 16 books. I immediately got into day-dream mode, imagining how the respected publishers passed around my book from hand to hand, how I was on a book tour crisscrossing the American heartland, how I would deliver fiery speeches and open champagne bottle with great cries of victory.
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An omen that could spell the realization of my wishes came in the form of a letter from a friend in the US, after four years that I had not heard from him. He told me about the depressing state of the "Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave" and wondered whether I was still an independent when it comes to politics (I don't know why this has always bothered him). He ended with a question: "Do you think that Trump is not too much of a punishment for humanity?"
I had to agree with him, although I have never really liked redheads.
With R. another friend, I corresponded extensively over the new kosher section in the US market, in which many books are taken off from shelves or get a special advisory because they may offend people: Blacks, women, overweight, hyperactive, or sushi haters. Just like the principal at my girls-only ulpana in my youth would do when he measured the length of our skirts.
I had prepared a list of books and authors that may be banned, all of them could face a de-kosherization certificate. It seems that in the steppes of Netflix and the great expanse of US literature, the word "without" is as popular as that word in nature stores.
Besides, alongside the Pavlovian responses that I have become accustomed to and reply with a yawn ("they brought this Leftie again?" "Is she pretending to be Ashkenazi/Sephardi"), I also got a letter from a reader who has been beside himself. He is outraged that I have been critical of the state. He reprimanded me. We all have to be responsible, and we get amazing things from the state, more than what we give to it, he scolded me.
I know a lot of couples around me who think that about their marriage. "I have given her everything," is one refrain. Another one is, "He took everything from me." This boring back and forth goes on and on. Having observed people for years, I know this usually does not end well. And trust me, when things fall apart, you don't want to be near them.
In any event, I have never considered the state and I to have a relationship of giving and taking. I am just too wary of the state and try to trust myself until I get drunk, and then let's see you find someone to talk to.
In any event, dear reader, it is clear that the state is acting with cruelty to the self-employed and business owners, it hurts their rights and listens only to organized labor and those who make a lot of noise and issue threats.
I would like to take this opportunity to ask you, dear reader, the following: If you don't have anything to do this week and read this coronavirus diary entry, I am still where I stand.
The people in the halls of government are acting with total rudeness and with a heart of stone, they are using bureaucracy that is impossible to beat and lacks any meaning and reason, they do as they please with the state, celebrating at our expense without leading by example, and taking advantage of this resource called coronavirus.
Let me just remind you dear reader that the word Patriot comes from the Latin "Patria," which means homeland. You can love your homeland and detest the leaders.
I have wandered to letters at a different place, 2,000 years back, to the Roman philosopher and playwright Seneca.
He was exiled to Corsica under the pretext that he committed adultery. He spent 8 years there, in solitary confinement that pales in comparison to what we call self-isolation these days.
Slowly but surely I translated his letter to his mother, in which he consoled her. What I particularly liked about it is that he feared that he would come off as too jolly, lest this makes her outraged.
I have to bring this here: nam in morbis quoque nihil est perniciosius quam inmatura medicina. Loosely translated this is: Even when you are sick, nothing is more harmful than immature medicine.
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