My thoughts have turned inward over the past couple of weeks. Perhaps it’s coronavirus blues. Or COVID-19 overload. Maybe it’s “Zoom fatigue,” which is a thing now. More likely, it is because I am focused on the loss of my father, Jimmy John, who died May 20, 2009, already 11 years ago. I’ve decided to embrace my restless heart and see where it leads. Can’t hurt. Might help. (SCENE: The kitchen table at my parents’ condo, where we spent most visits sipping a glass of Fortissimo California full-bodied red from a gallon jug.) My father and I are having a conversation about the global pandemic. I’ve wondered how he’d react…