The Water Rises

I slept very, very poorly on account of reading this analysis from the redoubtable Heather Cox Richardson on NIH cuts, which will result in a loss of millions and millions for universities all across the nation, which in turn will have a trickle-down effect on college towns.

RTT lives in a college town—Ithaca.

His main gig right now is bartending & managing a popular brewery.

Breweries and bars depend upon disposable income, and there won’t be any disposable income in Ithaca in another year, and I am frightened to death for RTT—though he’s young & male & charismatic, and so has better chances of landing on his feet than many other people in that situation.

I am very, very scared right now.

I don’t know what to do about that fear because it’s not a psychological issue—it’s a rational response to the danger that’s rising slowly but implacably all around me. Exactly like flood water.



Meanwhile, I met up with the fabulous BB yesterday, & we bickered & chatted companionably about shoes and ships and sealing-wax and cabbages and kings. A good time was had.

And in the evening, I chatted on the phone for about an hour with TaxBwana Linda. First time we’ve talked in a year or so. The first part of our conversation was very studied on both sides: Everything is good. My, how good it is!

But as the conversation progressed, we grew more honest—no, it is not good. She has a Swiss passport, & is making a trip to Switzerland after TaxBwana season ends, ostensibly to see relatives but really to check out the viability of moving there—

“I’m 68 years old, Patrizia. I don’t really want to pick up stakes and start all over again at this point in my life,” she said.

But she is afraid that her diplomatic corps pension may be in jeopardy.

As for me, I need to get serious about pursuing that Italian passport. And start studying Italian again on Duolingo.