Tag Archives: Nathaniel Cerf

Westenra Memorial: Stave I

EDITOR’S NOTE: The following is the first chapter to a book I have not completed. Quite frankly, I’m not sure anyone would want to read the whole book. As such, let me know what you think. Should I push ahead?

Stave I

This photo has nothing to do with the story, but didn’t a certain Transylvanian count arrive in London on a ship like this?

Cheers erupted in the operating room when Dr. Tepes removed his bloody hands from the chest of a morbidly obese man. The man’s heart had just restarted after one of the most masterful quadruple bypasses ever performed.

“That was inspiring,” said a young surgical resident. “How on earth did you know you’d find a suitable vein in his calf? His arteries were as congealed as the grease trap at an abandoned McDonald’s”

Dr. Tepes gave a wan smile and tried not to belie his boredom when he explained, “When you have has much experience as I’ve had, sometimes a body just talks to you. Besides, I’ve known this gentleman for several years in town and knew he was an athlete in younger years and suspected there might be additional clear veins in his lower extremities.”

The resident looked on in awe. “Yes, but he came in unexpectedly off an ambulance in cardiac arrest. To think that quickly and remember that well on your feet….”

Even the attending surgeon with 15 years of cardiac surgical experience was impressed. “Sir, that was the most incredible surgery I’ve ever watched.”

“Thank you, Joel,” Dr. Tepes said with warm friendly familiarity. “You really are one of the best cardiac surgeons I’ve ever worked with. That means a lot.”

The nurses agreed and complimented.

“Dr. Brown, do you mind closing him back up and putting the finishing touches on our patient?” Dr. Tepes asked.

“It would be an honor, Sir,” replied the resident.

“Great. It’s 2 a.m., and I’m more than a little hungry for a much delayed lunch break.”

“I’ll keep a close eye on young Brown,” Dr. Joel Irving replied. “I’ll catch up with you to go over the surgery for our notes when we’re done.”

Dr. Tepes thanked Dr. Irving wearily with a pat on the upper arm, as he passed him to head to the hall for his lunch.

Out of his scrubs and into his shirt, tie and white coat, Dr. Tepes listened to the echo of his comfortable gleaming black wingtips, as he walked down the tiles to what he darkly and privately referred to as his lunchroom. His office on the top floor was locked, and everyone assumed he was deep inside enjoying his private meal in solitude, as was his wont. He owned Lucy Westenra Memorial Hospital and only practiced surgery for fun, to keep his hand in the proverbial game. While he likely was the most talented cardiac surgeon on earth, he kept a low profile. He was a quiet soul who didn’t seek out fame or attention. He ran the hospital as a nonprofit to benefit the town of Sleepy Hollow, New York. Some insanely rich executives and movie stars knew of his talents, and they paid a fortune to improve their own lives and essentially fund the hospital for the community.

Uncas Falls in Norwich, Conn.

What bothered Dr. Vladislav Tepes wasn’t money or debt, it was shear boredom. A person’s heart and blood spoke to him in ways no one alive could understand, and it was no challenge at all to save a person’s life from cardiovascular problems or gunshots. He set out long ago to try to make amends for his past by saving lives, but he wasn’t even sure it was worth it any more. So few people changed their own lives afterward. So few dedicated their new lives to others or making the most of their own lives. Text books might one day be written about the surgery he just performed, but to him it was so rote that he almost fell asleep about three quarters of the way through it.

In his lifetime, he had seduced every size, color and shape of woman and man. For the past couple decades it was so beyond tedious, messy and boring that he didn’t even bother…or miss it.

He raced cars, flew airplanes, sailed around the world, partied with celebrities, mastered several languages, played several instruments and explored many hobbies from horology to horticulture.

Dr. Tepes looked like he was in his late 40s, but his family had long since passed away. He was stoutly built, and his pale skin and raven-black hair combed from right to left gave him a more youthful look, while his dark eyes and thin lips seemed to age him a little.

Outside of work, he had few friends. People were so predictable. By the time people got interesting to him, they died of old age.

Arriving at a glass-windowed door that said “Hospital Lab,” Dr. Tepes sighed with relief and entered. It was vacant at this hour, so he left out the lights and grabbed a large Pyrex measuring cup—filling it with all of the day’s leftover test tubes of already tested blood. He put the empties in the autoclave and put the cold, congealing mess in the microwave for 40 seconds to get it up to 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit.

***

Uncas Falls in Winter. Norwich, Conn.

Dancing down the hallway with his mop and wheeled bucked, few people loved their job as much as José Monterrey. José was the head janitor at Westenra Memorial. A happily married father of three, at 45, José felt like he was on top of the world. He had grown up poor in the rough border town of Juarez, Mexico. Through hard work and good fortune he came to the United States and became a naturalized citizen.

He looked past the petty racism of so many non-Hispanic Americans, focusing on the goodness of many other Americans and the opportunities available to his children that he barely dreamed possible at their age.

Unlike the jobs his parents had to do to get by, keeping a hospital sterilized and safe for patients and co-workers felt simple. Keeping his staff motivated and happy was likewise easy. Westenra Memorial paid top dollar for every employee and offered as strong a benefits package as he’d ever seen for what would normally be low-wage manual laborers.

“Lose a finger, get two free,” he’d joke to his prospective employees.

Only his wife protested.

“José, why don’t you go to day shifts and spend more time with us at home?”

He’d explain, “Rosie, it is so much quieter at night, and I can get so much more done. Plus, they need me there. The nurses and doctors are so stressed out saving lives, I clown around with them and ease their burdens. Same for some of the patients, who are scared and still awake. It isn’t in my job description, but this place is going to put our kids through college. Maybe they’ll be doctors here one day. It is important to give them everything I can.”

He smiled as he thought about his Rose. He twirled around his bucket and mop, pretending to dance with her as he made his way to the last room he needed to clean.

José had strict orders to stay out of the hospital lab when the lights were on or from midnight to 2 a.m., so he saved it for last.

It surprised him a little that the door had been left unlocked at a quarter to 3 in the morning, but the lights were out and people forgot to lock up all of the time.

The tall, athletic janitor flicked on the lights and gasped in horror when he saw the owner of the hospital drinking human blood from a glass bowl.

Dr. Tepes hissed in anger, bearing sharp, elongated fangs at the intruder.

José fell to his knees crying and begging. “Oh, please don’t kill me. I didn’t know! Nobody knows. I won’t tell anyone. I have a wife and children. Please, I’ll do anything you want. Just let me live.”

Dr. Tepes rushed to him with supernatural speed.

Pen World: Sheaffer’s Future in India

Cross sold the Sheaffer Pen Company to a company in India called William Penn. “Pen World” magazine asked me to get to the bottom of this news event by interviewing the owner of William Penn, a smart, hard-working entrepreneur named Nikhil Ranjan. If you ask me, Sheaffer is in better hands than it has been in decades. Read all about it in my December 2022 story from “Pen World,” reprinted here with permission from editor Nicky Pessaroff. If you want to stay on top of all my stories and the rest of the news in “Pen World,” be sure to click here to subscribe. To more easily read the story below, click the individual images of the pages.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Plenty of Good ‘Ink’

I am happy to announce that “Ink CT” magazine just profiled ThePenMarket.com and my friend and Master Penman Hong Nhat Nguyen, owner of Rose Art Creative, for a story about vintage pens and handwriting styles.

Publisher Jeff Lilly has given me permission to share PDFs of the story here, but he says you can read the print more easily on his magazine platform, which let’s you blow up the print to read it more easily: https://issuu.com/inkpublications/docs/ink_magazine_-_august_2022/20.

Special thanks also goes out to my pen-loving friend Brenda Miller for being a part of this story.

Pen World: Defining Vintage Part 2

The sequel to my story in Pen World Magazine is now on news stands. Click each photo to read each page of the story. We have permission to reprint it here from Pen World editor Nicky Pessaroff. Be sure to subscribe to Pen World to read this and many other great stories about pens.

Click the image to better read the story.

Click the image to better read the story.

Click the image to better read the story.

Front Page News

News about ThePenMarket.com is spreading. I was lucky enough to be honored by a front-page feature in The Norwich Times! We’ve been featured before in “Pen World” magazine. However, I think this is our first time in a newspaper. Check it out: https://www.theday.com/local-news/20220406/norwich-resident-specializes-in-modern-vintage-pens

ThePenMarket.com makes good front page news in The Norwich Times. It is such an honor to get a nice write-up in the local paper.

Pen World: Defining Vintage Part 1

Just what is it that makes a pen vintage? Many people are asking that question these days. As time advances, are the old definitions of “vintage” and “modern” really holding up? My article in Pen World Magazine is the first of a two part series. In Part 1, I put the question to 4 legendary experts who helped to build the pen collecting hobby into what it is today. In part 2, I will put the same questions to a new generation of collectors and users. Yet, for now, here is Part 1, reprinted here with permission from Nicky Pessaroff, editor of Pen World Magazine.

To better read each page, click the individual images.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another Fine Story in ‘Pen World’

October has another sizzling story by your’s truly in Pen World. In it, I delve into the undersung history of the humble inkfeed. Click on the images to see larger versions and enjoy a free sneak peek courtesy of editor in chief Nicky Pessaroff and Pen World Magazine. To read the whole incredible issue, be sure to pick up a subscription!

Click this image to read my latest story in Pen World Magazine. It is all about inkfeeds.

Here’s the cover of the October 2021 issue of Pen World Magazine.

 

 

 

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A New Dream for MLK Day: Reuniting America

We need more serenity in our lives. Enjoy this sunset over the Thames River in Connecticut.

Teetering on the brink of a new civil war, perhaps it is time to use the Dr. Martin Luther King jr. holiday to reflect on fulfilling his dream in a whole new way.

In his quest for equality, fairness and justice for all, Dr. King advocated for peace at every juncture of policy and protest.

I fix, restore and sell fountain pens for a living. I write stories to entertain people. I’m no politician. I intentionally avoid politics at all cost with regard to my business and this blog. BUT, I am heartbroken to see the nation I love falling apart. It is terrifying to see our capitol under siege. It is alien to have anything less than a peaceful transfer of power in Washington D.C. It is awful watching people whom I call friends so politically divided and letting their politics spoil their friendships.

As a guy who loves vintage pens, it should come as no surprise that I love reading about history. Among other projects, I’m working on a book about the original American Civil War. Plus, with a master’s degree in journalism, I have a fairly strong understanding about the machinations of modern media.

There is one common factor that I have observed in recent years that conservatives and liberals can agree on: the media is biased. How many times have you heard conservatives blame the liberal media…or liberals blame the conservative media? How many of our friends who are 50+ bemoan the fact we no longer have an Edward R. Murrow or Walter Cronkite that every American can trust to tell us the facts and only the facts in a news broadcast?

Why do we have so much media bias in our current time?

In 1949, the United States enacted a law known as “The Fairness Doctrine.” After having watched the rise of fascism in Europe and communism in Russia, American lawmakers wisely foresaw the new invention of television (and the older medium of radio) being used in horrible ways to subvert our democracy. As such, they enacted “The Fairness Doctrine.” Under this law, nobody who owned a broadcast license could promote one political ideology or party over another. If a channel or network wanted to feature a certain political opinion, it had to balance it out with the opposing view to give viewers a fair opportunity to consider both points of view and come up with their own opinions. Any channel or network that violated that balance would be punished by the Federal Communications Commission, which was nonpartisan and watched networks closely—enforcing the policy with vigor.

The policy remained in force until it was eliminated by Congress in 1987. Not surprisingly, we saw a sharp spike in opinion-based and biased broadcasting in the 1990s through today.

I propose that if we really want to heal our nation, then liberals and conservatives must come together to demand their lawmakers reinstate “The Fairness Doctrine.” No more liberal media. No more conservative media. No more lopsided political coverage. No more ideological brainwashing. News shows go back to broadcasting facts and only facts.

News shows might become more boring, but after watching violent insurrection on our streets, maybe boring would be a good change of pace on TV. 

This week marks the start of a new presidency and the start of a new cast of senators and representatives. Call or write your representatives and president this week and demand the restoration of “The Fairness Doctrine.” It won’t solve all of our nation’s problems, but it will go a long way to help lower the national temperature and restore bias-free broadcasting to our airwaves.

Decameron 2020: Where did Janey Go?

There are so many beautiful scenes to photograph in Connecticut in the fall…especially a stone wall leading to oblivion.

“Wheee!,” cheered Jane, clapping her hands for encouragement. “Look at that little girl run.”

Vick looked up from the papers he was grading and smiled at his mother-in-law. “She’s adorable.”

There was nobody else in the living room.

Since before they moved into this fully restored, 3-story Queen Anne home in New Haven, Jane had been seeing people who just weren’t there.

Jane had early onset Alzheimer’s and was nearing the end of the line. This little girl she had been seeing since they moved into the house likely was a series of happy memories about Vick’s wife when she was a little girl.

Jane was happy and comfortable, and that was all that mattered to Vick.

Getting this tenured professorship at an Ivy League school was a dream come true for Vick. His wife Sue was an architect who was in high demand, and she could usually work from home, traveling when she needed to. She was 100% supportive of this move, and they both agreed their newly renovated home was the best home in which either had ever lived.

They took great care with the interior design. Each room was unique, creating its own ambiance. The living room was tastefully elegant in a rich 1890s Victorian motif to restore the home to some of its original state. Dark woods, red cushions and wall coverings. House plants helped fill the room with life. Ferns and vines threatened to overtake the windows and furniture. The walls had paintings or bookshelves tastefully arranged. It was Vick’s favorite room.

Sue came in and asked, “You didn’t happen to take a bath and forget to empty the tub, did you? There are watery footprints all over the floor.”

Vick gave a subtle head shake no, and they both looked to Jane, who was bare-footed, and playing patty cake by herself and giggling.

Sue sighed, “I’ll go drain the tub and clean up the floor.”

“That’s alright. I can do it,” Vick offered.

“No, you’re busy. I got it.”

Keeping tabs on Jane was easily a 2-person job. Jane always meant well, but she had virtually no short-term memory. Frequently, she’d wander off and do household chores or yard work. It sounded great on the surface…until they discovered she never used dish soap and stacked wet, dirty dishes in the cabinets, without any regard for the contents of the cabinets and drawers in which she placed them. The pantry was forever being reorganized.

It was easier when their kids were home, but their two girls were off at college. For now, Vick and Sue tag-teamed watching Jane or cleaning up after her. The hardest part was that Jane preferred to be busy. You couldn’t just plunk her in front of a T.V. Jane preferred mowing, raking or pruning to watching T.V. Yet, to set her loose on her own would be trouble. When they gave her a trowel to weed the garden and left her alone, she forgot to weed and dug a 4-foot deep hole instead.

Neither Vick nor Sue blamed Jane. It was the disease.

During the week, a caretaker came to look after Jane. On the weekends, it was just Vick and Sue. They didn’t mind. They had set some boundaries for defining the moment they would need to find a nursing home, but they enjoyed Jane’s company and knew how much she’d hate a nursing home in her present state of mind.

They were content to give Jane as many good years, months or days as they could in their happy home.

•••

Imagine being buried in red and orange leaves.

The advantage to having kids off at college was sleeping in on Sundays and rediscovering each other.

Sue and Vick were as flirty as teenagers while making pancakes and bacon in the kitchen. Vick was nibbling Sue’s ear when Jane rushed in, out of breath and wearing nothing but a bathrobe.

“Have you seen that little girl?” she asked. “I tried to chase her, but she’s faster than me.”

“No,” Sue said, putting down the mixing bowl full of batter that she was stirring. “You want some breakfast? I’ve got some strawberries and whip cream for your pancakes. I know you like that.”

Jane looked confused. “Not right now. I really need to find that little girl.”

Jane left the kitchen on her quest, and Sue sighed and shrugged. “I guess playtime is over, now that she’s up.”

Vick gave her a kiss. “To be continued.”

She gave him her naughtiest smile, then Jane came running back into the kitchen.

Jane was pale and trembling. Panic was in her eyes.

“There’s a man in the house,” she said.

“What?” Vick asked. “Where?”

“I don’t like him,” Jane’s voice was a tremor. “Make him go away.”

“It’s okay,” Sue soothed, as she embraced her mother.

“What did he look like? Where is he?” Vick questioned, grabbing a long, sharp kitchen knife.

Vick was a pudgy college professor, not a knife fighter, but he figured something was better than nothing.

Jane was at a loss for words  and just pointed out the kitchen entrance she came in.

“Be careful,” Sue cautioned.

Searching the first floor, Vick saw no trace of anybody. No broken windows. No disturbed furniture. No stolen items.

He was surprised to find the front door unlocked. Opening the front door, a package was waiting for his wife on the porch.

Snorting a small laugh, he put together the pieces of the puzzle.

He took the package back to Sue and asked Jane, “Did you see the delivery man? Is that who scared you?”

“What man?” Jane asked, confused.

Sue exhaled in relief.

“I’ll check the rest of the house,” Vick said. “But, I think we found our culprit.”

“Thanks,” Sue agreed, as she took the package.

Nothing was amiss as Vick explored from low to high. The only thing out of place was that the 2nd floor bath tub was full, again. Muttering to himself, Vick drained the tub and sopped up the mess on the floor with a towel.

•••

Not sure there is anything more beautiful than maple leaves at peak color.

Raking the last of the front yard leaves into a huge three-foot pile, Sue and Jane were dressed in gloves and heavy sweaters.

It was a crisp, late-October day.

“Watch that little girl play in the leaves,” Jane said, resting on her rake.

“I don’t know about any little girl,” Sue smiled mischievously. “I think you want to play in the leaves.”

“Noooo,” Jane protested. “I’m too old. What will the neighbors say?”

“They’ll say, ‘Look at the old lady having fun. Maybe she’ll let me play, too.’ Go on. Have fun.”

Jane jumped into the leaves with reckless abandon. Sue picked up a pile of leaves and dropped them on her. Then she fell into the leaves next to her mother.

They both laughed like they did when Sue was a little girl.

When they tired of laughing and throwing leaves at one another, they lay quietly staring at the cold, grey sky through the nearly naked branches of an old oak tree.

“I don’t think I’ve got another winter left in me, Sue.”

Sue was shocked by the sudden return of dementia-free clarity.

“Of course you do, Mom. You’re a skiier.”

“Not any more.” Jane was silent a moment before continuing. “I really want to thank you and Vick for how well you are taking care of me, but I want you to know that it is okay…whatever it is you need to do to take care of me.”

Tears welled in Sue’s eyes, as she took in the full permission of what her mother was granting her.

“I love you, Susie.”

“I love you, too, Mama,” Sue said, hugging her tightly and crying. “I miss you so much.”

They cried and hugged some more, and before either of them was ready, the dementia returned.

“Why are you crying?” Jane innocently asked, oblivious to her own cheeks wet with tears.

Sue tried hard to compose herself quickly. “Nothing. Nothing, Mama. How about some hot cocoa?”

“Only if my little friend here can have a cup, too,” she said, climbing out of the leaves and on to her feet.

“Of course,” she agreed, absently wiping her nose on her sleeve.

•••

Later  that night, just down the hall from her loving daughter and son-in-law, comfy and warm in her bed, Jane passed away peacefully.

On October 30th, a small grave-side service was held for Jane. Her granddaughters came in from their respective colleges. Nobody in New Haven knew Jane, but a couple of Sue and Vick’s colleagues came to offer their support. The girls were upset. Sue and Vick had far more complex feelings. They were sorrowful for Jane’s passing. She died too young from a disease that deprived her of her memories and personality. Yet, being her constant caretakers had taken a toll on them, too, and they felt guilty for feeling some relief.

At midnight Vick was awakened by a small hand gently patting his shoulder. He groggily thought it was one of his daughters, momentarily forgetting they were now grown women.

Through his bleary eyes he saw a 9-year-old girl patiently standing next to his bed. She had curly hair like Shirley Temple and was wearing a 1940s’ dungaree jumper.

Coming to his senses, he gasped and sat up in bed—scooting backward until his back was against the headboard.

“Who are you?”

Sensing his fear, the little girl took a step backward and asked,  “Where did Janey go? I haven’t seen her for a couple of days.”

Sue started to stir next to him.

“What?” Vick asked. “How did you get in here?”

The girl smiled like he was being silly.

“You know me,” she explained. “I’m Janey’s friend. You called me adorable once when we were playing in the drawing room.”

Sue was coming to her senses and trying to understand what a little girl was doing in their bedroom.

Vick tried to explain gently to someone whom he wasn’t sure existed, “Umm. Jane died several days ago.”

She looked at him quizzically, as if she didn’t quite understand.

Then a soft familiar voice playfully called from down the hall.

“Evvvvelynnnn. Come out, come out wherever you are.”

“Mama?” Sue whispered, confused.

“Oh! There she is,” said the little girl, perking up. Then her eyes widened and fear shown on her face. “I forgot to warn her about the man with the bloody arms in the bathtub!”

The girl faded away as she looked like she was going to run out of the room.

Seconds later Jane screamed from the middle of the hallway.

“Mama!” Sue shouted, as she and Vick ran down the hall to the bathroom. Moments later they were joined by their daughters.

They stood silently watching the lit bathroom. Nobody else was in the hall or bathroom, but the tub was full and wet footprints led to the hallway and vanished.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Decameron 2020: Elementary Human Nature

Nope, again this has nothing to do with the story, but it is a beautiful swampy nature preserve in Wisconsin.

Mrs. Peebles loved her first-grade class. Each of her 20 students was a clever little sponge soaking in knowledge, exploring and learning in their own ways. High-energy and mostly adorable, she wished she could protect each one from all of the dangers in the world.

To help keep them safe, near the end of the school year, she’d have a special class to warn them about the dangers lurking within their own homes. She explained how bleach and ammonia could be wonderful cleaners for their homes, but they could also be deadly poisons if drunk. Just getting the chemicals on their skin could hurt them, if they didn’t wash them off quickly. She let the kids come up and give a quick little sniff of each chemical to make sure they knew what they smelled like and should avoid.

Next she warned them of other dangers, such as hot stoves and space heaters.

She would wrap up the discussion with a dire warning never to stick anything other than an electric plug into a light socket. Electricity was vital to powering their lights, TV and computers, but it also was deadly when touched directly. She explained how a shock could stop their hearts or burn them.

After answering the children’s questions and reassuring them that all of these dangerous things could be very safe if only used properly, she began to put away her sample chemicals in a locking cabinet behind her desk.

At the very second she knelt down, there was a loud pop in the classroom and the lights flickered.

She stood up and screamed when she saw little Johnny Whozit lying unconscious next to an electric outlet on the other side of the room, a small pair of scissors clenched in his hand.

***

Dear Friends,

It is easy for us, as adults, to see that Johnny had a severe lapse in judgement when he was just told that the very thing he was about to do could kill him. The vast majority of us don’t need to stick things in an outlet to know it is an insanely terrible idea. The overwhelming majority of us have never stuck anything other than proper plugs in an outlet.

While quarantine totally blows goats, for the life of me I cannot understand why grown adults think it is suddenly a good idea to drink bleach, break quarantine and stop wearing masks in public, in close proximity to other people.

With increasing repetition, I’m hearing all manner of virus conspiracy theories, as if Covid-19 has ideological intentions.

It doesn’t. The virus isn’t liberal, conservative or even political. It is a mindless microscopic thing that isn’t even a complete single-cell structure that scientists define as only being on the “edge of life.” It isn’t living in the traditional sense that we understand living to be…but it isn’t quite not-alive, either. No wonder it is difficult to treat. It only has two goals: quasi-live & replicate. It sickens and kills everybody equally, regardless of politics, race, religion or wealth.

I am blessed to count many EMTs, nurses, doctors and police officers among my friends and customers. Many of them have told me how insanely contagious this disease is. Most of them have seen people die of the disease…many people, in some cases.

Many of the best scientific minds in the country are working on cures and vaccines to save the rest of us from this plague. At the moment, we have no known, proven cure. We’re mostly keeping our fingers crossed that it doesn’t kill us. True, for as many people who get it, only a small percentage of them die. Who wants to take that risk when a cure or vaccine might be just around the corner?

Yes, the economy is in rough shape. Absolutely, people need money to continue on. All of us would love to gather with friends and family once again. We all want life to return to normal as soon as possible…and I hope with as little suffering and death as possible. OMG! Warm weather and a beautiful springtime make it even harder to stay indoors. I get it.

But these are extraordinary times, and they call for extreme measures to protect our family, friends and neighbors as much as humanly possible.

One of the most dangerous parts about Covid-19 is that you can get it and never know it. You can also get it and spread it for up to 14 days before coming down with symptoms. Why put yourself at risk? Why put your family and friends at risk? Why pass it on to some friendly elderly person you accidentally bump into at the grocery store? Who knows how many people someone you might infect can then turn around and infect?

Until we have a cure or vaccine, the only thing we can do for ourselves and everyone else is stay home…and wear a mask if you have to go out for supplies. It totally sucks, but it is the only way to stay safe…minimize the spread of the disease…and buy the many doctors and scientists working around the clock to find a better way to kill, cure and prevent this disease a little more time.

Regardless of politics, for the health and lives of our families and friends, we need to unite as a nation and a planet. At no other time in human history has it been easier to be a hero that helps save humanity. All you have to do is continue to shelter in place.

With great love, health and respect,
Nathaniel