“Doing okay,” is what most of my family and friends say whenever I ask. And none of us forgets that if you’re okay you’re one of the fortunate ones.But even those of us who have stayed healthy and not lost our jobs, homes, or loved ones have faced extraordinary challenges. If there’s been a time this century when everyone in the nation—everyone on the planet!—should come together to battle a common enemy, it is during these past eleven months.

Instead, of course, we’ve been divided by fear, anger, confusion, depression, fatigue, hopelessness, money worries, and a constant low-level anxiety verging on despair—all arriving and departing at unpredictable moments, day after day for all these months. No wonder we’ve been drinking more than usual.

And now? A week after an inspiring inauguration ceremony and two weeks since the insurrection at the Capital, there are reasons to be hopeful. I know there are, my head tells me so, but my heart isn’t convinced. Poor thing doesn’t want to get broken again. But I’m giving it some time. I’m pretty sure it’ll come around.

One consequence of the pandemic that Gail and I didn’t expect is to have more free time than we know what to do with. I never thought I’d say that. Here’s an example: I found Gail the other day on her hands and knees scrubbing the grooves in our brass door sill with an old toothbrush. And the next day I came into the living room and discovered her at the coffee table snapping vitamin tablets in half because they were too big to easily swallow. But the cut edges were sharp and hurt her throat so she was filing the edges smooth with a fingernail file. She had neat piles of filed and unfiled tablets before her and a little heap of vitamin dust between them.

We laughed about that. We’ve been surprised at how much we’ve been laughing lately. How can that be in these very unhumorous times?

Maybe we’re a little desperate to find something funny. Last week I was looking through a catalog (that’s how bored I was) and said to Gail, “Someday I want to get a down duvet for the bed.” Except I pronounced it “DUV-it” because I’m a hick. Gail started laughing, told me how to pronounce the word, then I was laughing too. All the rest of the day, every time one of us said “duv-it” we laughed all over again.

I can almost always make Gail laugh with potty humor. It might be one of the keys to our long and happy marriage. A couple nights later we were watching a cooking show on tv and the chef said, “Be sure to scrape up the sticky bits on the bottom of the pan, that’s where all the flavor is.” I said, “Eew. I think I have sticky bits in my underwear,” and Gail lost it. When she caught her breath, she said, “No duv-it for you, then.” And we both cracked up.

I know. You kinda had to be there. But the point is, laugh every chance you get.