I'm Eric Marcus and this is another dispatch from Making Gay History's makeshift studio closet on West 20th Street in New York City.

It's been seven weeks since my partner Barney and I began sheltering in place.

Looking out our back window at the townhouse gardens where spring is unfolding with all its

promise of renewal, it's hard to imagine all the heartbreak unfolding at hospitals across the city.

The number of deaths in my home state is still in the hundreds every day, but it's nearly

half the number of just three weeks ago.

Not a reason to celebrate, but a sign of hope that the pandemic will one day come to an end.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I have a pretty dark streak.

One of my early books was called,

Expect the Worst You Won't Be Disappointed.

It was a book of humor but with a definite pessimistic edge.

So it's always been something of a struggle for me to see adversity as an opportunity,

that out of a crisis it's possible to come back stronger.

Different than before, back stronger. Different than before but stronger. Five years ago I was

fired from my job at the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I was

devastated. I was in my early 50s and I had no idea what I was going to do.

Barney reassured me that I would land on my feet as I always had.

And then he uttered that old cliche that one day I'd look back and see that getting fired was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

That really pissed me off because it sure didn't feel that way in the moment.

But one thing I've learned in a long-term relationship is that there are times when your partner means well and it's best to bite your tongue.

And in the end he turned out to be right.

If I hadn't been fired, there would be no making gay history podcast.

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