I have pals who annually swear off booze, and some actually don't even tipple in January but none I've known ever makes it through the succeeding 11 months without indulging in an alcoholic beverage.

It takes a passionate commitment to break ingrained habits, as I found out myself long ago -- throughout the 1980s -- when I engaged daily in sporting gambling in a harrowing pursuit in which at times I made outrageous amounts of money and at other times lost outrageous amounts of money.

I was one of those fortunate bettors who never had to turn to shylocks to pay the bookies -- I had five of them at the time -- but the roller-coaster of an existence exacted a mental toll on me and those close to me during those years because the thrill of winning never came faintly close to the distress of losing.

And so on January 1st, 1991, after a torturous 10-9 Notre Dame loss to Colorado in the Orange Bowl in which a phantom final-minute clipping penalty against the Fighting Irish turned out to be the decisive factor in my absorbing a five-figure financial hit, I solemnly swore to myself I'd never make another wager.

And, blessedly, I haven't, and I hope I show the same perseverance and resilience in my decision to make only my second New Year's resolution in 30 years.

I now plan to don a mask when I go on my daily four mile walks, which I have failed to do the past nine months in my journeys around Naples and Belmont Shores in which I've probably traversed more than 1,000 miles during the period.

[Scroll down for further.]

I saw no reason for covering my face since it was an outdoor activity in fresh air without for the most part close contact and since I have eluded the Coronavirus even though my better half and I spent more than a month in Europe late last year where it already had started and where we certainly must have been exposed to it while traveling to seven airports and six train stations and walking the streets in close proximity among thousands of people in cities like Rome, London, Berlin, Munich, Dublin, Durham, Newcastle, Hartlepool and Paris.

And, anyway, I've been forced by law to do the Lone Ranger bit the past nine months when I've been going to such outlets as 24-Hour Fitness, Von's Pavilion, Target, Lowe's, Rite-Aid, K-Mart -- etc, etc., etc.

I suspect subconsciously I have felt immune from this terrible disease, but a few factors have conspired to change such a blithe and naive perspective.

For one, the recent upsurge in Coronavirus cases and deaths certainly has been difficult to overlook, although I still have suspicions about the credibility of Covid-19 statistics ever since I was told by a couple of hospital nurses long ago that they knew of several deaths that were listed as being Covid-19-related even though that wasn't the case.

"I know of four elderly people who died strictly from old age -- and yet Coronavirus was added to their death certificates," said one. "I think this is happening all over the country."

Indeed, I do find it strange that not one person in California has died from the common flu this year.

I also find it strange that the great Hall of Fame pitcher, Tom Seaver, reportedly died from Covid-19 complications, since it long had been known that he had Alzheimer's and Lyme disease.

Doug Krikorian and pal Gilbert Eshom in front of the Berlin Wall and the Brandenburg Gate on Nov. 10, 1989

Another reason for my sudden mask-wearing walking Epiphany is that a few close friends of mine in the past week have come down with Covid-19 when the previous nine months only one had contacted it.

"It's absolutely awful," says Gilbert Eshom, an Alhambra resident who's one of the most respected ticket touts in America. "It's so extreme. It's basically the flu on steroids. Luckily, I had a low-grade temperature. But my body aches. And I sleep all day. And then at night I've gotten the chills and stay awake. I feel like a vampire. I'm getting better, but it certainly is not a good thing to go through."

My long-time pal Mark Emerzian, who resides in Troy, Mich., with his wife Lisa and twin sons Ethan and Jake, revealed to me Monday that his entire family has been enduring Coronavirus.

The Family Emerzian: Ethan, Mark, Lisa, Jake (L to R)

"For a few days it had me sleeping around the clock," says Emerzian. "I'm feeling better now, but I don't have any energy. I feel totally fatigued. My sons are back healthy, and are practicing basketball (both are stars at Troy High) again. We found out first hand how much Coronavirus can spread."

Obviously, it does and has been keeping a lot of people on edge, and one of those people played a vital role in my finally deciding to cover my face during my walking sessions in an incident that occurred on Bay Shore Ave. near 2nd Street last Wednesday afternoon.

As I sauntered along with my head momentarily bowed, a lady shrieked loudly at me, "Wear a mask!"

Now normally I would respond with a snarky one-liner, but I kept my head meekly bowed and kept walking in silence, thinking to myself how passionate and worried this person was about Coronavirus to express herself vocally in a public setting risking an obscenity-strewn response by some non-believers I know.

If my not having a mask inspired her to making such a noisy plea, perhaps I should listen and cover my face to ease her anxieties and those of others who have similar sentiments towards other mask-less Long Beach pedestrians.

I still don't think my wearing a mask during my strolls will diminish the spread of Coronavirus, just like I still do think it's absolute folly that LBUSD Superintendent Jill Baker has kept her 70,000 students from attending classrooms since last March.

All it has achieved has been to cause devastating, if not irreparable harm-- socially, emotionally and athletically -- to so many of them with her totally impracticable and dysfunctional virtual on-line, stay-at-home schooling lunacy.

I also still find it absolutely incomprehensible that the radical Long Beach health department czar, Kelly Colopy, via her misguided handlers, Gavin Newsom and Eric Garcetti, has kept Long Beach restaurateurs locked down and unable to make a living when there is no data that has shown outside dining causes a Coronavirus upstick. And what a great Holiday gift -- or rather middle finger -- Ms. Colopy gave to the thousands of local restaurant workers!

I spent New Year's Eve in Tucson having dinner inside at Fleming's with the Blonde Sheriff Kathy Drum and my sister, a beloved, well-known Arizona philanthropist named Ginny Clements, and her husband Tom Rogers.

Ginny Clements and Tom Rogers

We were surrounded by a crowd of people, with all the tables six feet apart of course and all the diners having a glad time, a scene no longer visible in Long Beach because of the pig-headed poltroons that govern us.

Sponsor

Sponsor

Sponsor

Sponsor

Sponsor

Sponsor

Sponsor

A Christmas Tale Of Reflections And Remembrances

Support really independent news in Long Beach. No one in LBREPORT.com's ownership, reporting or editorial decision-making has ties to development interests, advocacy groups or other special interests; or is seeking or receiving benefits of City development-related decisions; or holds a City Hall appointive position; or has contributed sums to political campaigns for Long Beach incumbents or challengers. LBREPORT.com isn't part of an out of town corporate cluster and no one its ownership, editorial or publishing decisionmaking has been part of the governing board of any City government body or other entity on whose policies we report. LBREPORT.com is reader and advertiser supported. You can help keep really independent news in LB similar to the way people support NPR and PBS stations. We're not non-profit so it's not tax deductible but $49.95 (less than an annual dollar a week) helps keep us online.