Let's face it

 

"Wait, you ate dinner there? They don't have any outdoor seating. You ate INSIDE? How did you do that?" I asked.

My friend laughed. "Yes, we ate indoors. We're vaccinated! We BELIEVE in the vaccine. It was lovely."

Oh. Wow. 

I believe in the vaccine, too. 

Yes, I, too, have been vaccinated. 

However, I am surprisingly ill-at-ease about our world opening up, this ability to leave our homes and be out and about. I am moving slowly and with trepidation towards all these new "normal" opportunities that await. Honestly, I surprise myself with my fear, my anxiety. I joked with my friend that I feel like a cicada, emerging slowly, not entirely understanding where I am now, and then moving confusingly through the world, bumping as I go. I'm edgy, restlessly edgy. Overly sensitive. Maybe I shouldn't use the word "overly" with sensitive - ha! - I need to be sensitive about that. 

Why does eating indoors in a restaurant make me so nervous? What is my deal? 

It's as if I have been on a very strict diet, and then I am invited to a smorgasbord of all my favorite rich and heavy foods - it looks delicious, but it doesn't feel good to partake. Too much too fast. 

I want it, I want it, I want it, but it leaves me a little shaky and uncomfortable.

I have long known I am an introvert; I have never known myself to be this ill-at-ease.

I think it is going to just take time - right? Just a little out of step, I am.

This past Sunday, Father's Day, the kids and grandkids feted my husband with a big yummy breakfast; by 1 pm, everyone was gone, and we had this quiet day remaining - a very typical pandemic day, a day in isolation, just the two of us. 

What should we do for dinner on this special day, just the two of us?

That evening, we took the plunge. 

Just like we always used to do, we walked to our favorite little restaurant in downtown Silver Spring, a cozy little Indian-Nepali place. 

Just like we always used to do, we went INSIDE. Yes, I faced my vague, invisible, stunting fears. 

Just like we always used to do, we had a delightful time. Funny thing, I'm not the only one with these fears - we were the only customers eating inside the restaurant (though there was lots of takeout business, which is how the restaurant survived these pandemic months). This quiet and familiar restaurant was just the environment I needed - and it came with an extra-special bonus of good conversation with the owners, sharing stories about this strange time we are all living through. 

Slowly but surely, I am emerging, we are all emerging.

___________________

It's Tuesday and I am participating in the

 Slice of Life.  

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!

SOL21 Slice 16: Making a musical

 

I am participating in the

 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL21).  

All participants are sharing stories about moments in their lives, writing 

 every day for the month of March 2021.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!

I should give an update on how things are going with babysitting the grandchildren, Frog (28 months) and Bird (4 months). In a word: WONDERFUL! Little Bird is now fully adjusted to having her Nana and Poppa around; we have even heard her coo (there is nothing sweeter than this). It is as if she got her discomfort out of the way in that one long day at the outset, as I wrote about in my very first slice of this month.

So, here we are, a couple weeks into this new babysitting schedule, where we watch the children while our son and daughter-in-law work. Thank you, pandemic, for this strange phenomenon - four adults, two little ones, all caught up in one another all day long. It's mind-blowing to realize that similar scenes are repeated in so many work-at-home families throughout the world, during this pandemic - long days of everyone underfoot and in each other's business. We are lucky that we share babysitting duties with the other grandparents, and we all live close enough that we can split the children up some days, vary the schedule a bit, so that we are not always all of us on top of each other. (Yes, how lucky this young family is, to have all four of the grandparents living nearby and able to pitch in). 

Tuesdays are an 'all together' day. This is quite the dance: the grandparents must find a way to be fun and entertaining, while assuring that the wee ones are relatively quiet, all day long, as Mama and Dada are working. 

I think, post-pandemic, someone should make a musical of these days, and I have been thinking of some of the tunes to guide the action:

The pandemic's ability to shrink living space should not be minimized. Although the house was plenty big enough before, it is considerably smaller since March 2020, almost bursting at its seams. Dada takes the basement for his telework, Mama starts at the dining room table and then squirrels away to another room when the noise is too disruptive. (As in, when the children are not napping.) To set the scene, I hear the Talking Heads singing "Once in a Lifetime,"

you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack

you may find yourself in another part of the world . . .

you may ask yourself, 'how did I get here?' . . .

you may ask yourself, 'how do I work this?' . . .

same as it ever was . . . same as it ever was . . . same as it ever was . . .

I'm not entirely sure what the plot of this musical is, certainly it needs to show the pivoting of the adults all day long, as we bounce from room to room, making lunches, finding shoes and jackets to get the kids outdoors. (Cue those fun opening notes of David Bowie, "Let's Dance") There will definitely be stressful moments. A lot of the time, the parents can wear earbuds and work quietly, silencing the noise of the world around them, the chaos literally at their feet. But then, Frog will try to get downstairs to play in the basement while Dada is in court, via telework. (He's a lawyer - I mean, c'mon, being a lawyer from one's basement? Which kid is playing make-believe? It seems so funny to me that we can conduct so much business from our homes.) 

So, let's consider a medley of music -

The Beatles, "Hello/Goodbye" 

You say yes, I say no

You say stop and I say go go go, oh no

Stealer's Wheel, "Stuck in the Middle"

I've got the feeling that something ain't right

I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair,

And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs

Clowns to the left of me! Jokers to the right!

Here I am stuck in the middle with you.

Rolling Stone, "Mixed Emotions"

You're not the only one with mixed emotions

You're not the only ship adrift on this ocean

The day flies by. 

Maybe I need to add a little clip of The Pretenders, "Stop Your Sobbin'" for those tiny booboos that happen, or when a diaper needs to be changed, you'd hear a bit of Britney Spears "Oops I Did It Again." 

I should definitely include a little Otis Redding, "Try A Little Tenderness" - this song is magic!

Of course, the musical ends happily and harmony is restored, with a slightly revised version of Dusty Springfield crooning "Wishin' and Hopin'":

So if you're lookin' to find love you can share

All you gotta do is hold 'em, and kiss 'em and love 'em

And show 'em that you care

Show 'em that you care just for 'em

Do the things they like to do

This draft of a musical is just beginning to come together...I'll have to think on it some more! 

Truth is, we're all working together to make these days work. It is really a blessing to be able to see and be with family during these endless days of pandemic, to be able to support one another.  

"Music is a great healer. Begin and end your day with music."

- Lailah Gifty Akita

Small bits

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

It now feels almost normal to keep six feet separation from others, wash my hands and face frequently, and wear a mask when I leave my home. Here in the Washington, D.C. metro area, pretty much everyone continues to follow the guidelines for sheltering in place and social distancing, due to the fact that we continue to have many new COVID-19 cases each day. There is some good news in that these numbers are beginning to plateau, although a more marked decrease would be a true cause for celebration.

Here's a brief reflection on three small things that are true at my home these days....

1.  My stockpile of "first response" virus weapons on the kitchen counter: a bin of freshly-laundered masks, disinfectant wipes, individually-wrapped ones for any errands, and tissues. These supplies are always out - right near the sink, right as you enter my house, right at the ready. We have back ups in a cabinet, should this supply dwindle. Once upon a time, I did my best to keep the counter clear, clean, and decluttered; now, it is as if I have a small shrine at one end. 

The first line of defense for coronavirus: my kitchen counter.

2. Book stacks, at the ready. These are not books I am reading; no, these books are prepped to be the perfect height for video calls. I have a stack of books on my living room coffee table, where we sit for virtual church services. I have a stack of books in the spare bedroom, "my home office," where I do all my virtual teaching. There is a third stack of books near the cozy chair in my bedroom, for social calls with friends. Each of these books stacks just seems part of the room decor, at this point.

My living room coffee table, with books ready for "Zoom church services."

3. There's been a significant increase in animal sightings. Are we simply more aware? Is this because we are home in one place and able to take more notice? Have they always been there? The backyard birds have been amazing to watch, with many having regular routines when they visit our yard. I've challenged myself to learn their individual sounds, using The Cornell Lab of Ornithology website as a reference tool.

When we walk down one particular street, we invariably see an albino squirrel...I don't think I have ever seen one of those before, and now I can find this little guy almost daily.

Then, of course, there are deer. Just yesterday, we had a funny experience. Tony was in the backyard, trying to shoo a doe from the yard (we are doing our best to keep them from eating our tomato plants, which have just started to flower and seem to be particularly attractive to deer). He was frustrated by the deer's bold refusal to leave, as she just stood there looking back at him, when he felt a soft brushing against his bare leg - and jumped when he found two small fawns looking up at him!  Mother did not want to abandon her children.

Last but not least of the animal sightings, we believe we've found a favorite nesting spot of a great blue heron at a nearby creek..this seems special. The heron flew directly over us the other day, swooping low, seemingly comfortable and at ease to be near us. Later, looking up the possible meaning of this connection, I loved this reminder:

The Heron comes to us with a message of meditate and contemplate. You are exactly where you need to be right now in this moment! When this graceful bird crosses your path, stop and think - just pause. Sometimes that is all we need to do when we are in the middle of a chaotic situation or a difficult decision.

Zooming through

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

"Maureen, would you go and get me a cranberry cocktail?," my father asked me. Cranberry 'cocktail' is non-alcoholic and a nursing home favorite - half cranberry juice and half ginger ale; at age 90, he's earned the right to drink as many of these as he wants.

The only problem was, I was on a video call with him when he asked for one! 

Dad is isolated in a nursing home in Maine, and I am sheltering-in-place in Maryland. It is really hard not to be able to visit him, and each passing week of this pandemic makes me a little more depressed, as I think, realistically, will I see him again? How will it ever feel 'safe' enough to enter his nursing home, before a vaccine is made? Will it ever feel fair to his caregivers and their families, to have visitors entering the facility on a regular basis? How long will it take to make a vaccine? 

About three weeks ago, the Activities Director at Dad's home arranged for families to make video calls to their loved ones. What a blessing this has been! Although it had been many weeks since I had seen him, that first video chat revealed my Dad in much the condition as he was when I saw him last: sleepy, his face set in a frown (always!), yet good color, healthy, clean, and relaxed. 

Dad has some vision impairment, he's hard of hearing, plus he has a little dementia (as a result of Parkinson's). He can be very confused about some things (for example, he often talks about my Mom as if she is still alive). I wondered how successful video calls would be, against these odds, but, honestly, they are a very good way to connect. When he asked me to get him a cranberry cocktail, I realized he was mistaking my image for the real thing - how great is that? The Activities Director immediately said, "I'll go get you that drink; we'll let you talk to your daughter. You don't get to see her much!" I loved how he took Dad's request seriously and in stride. 

The Activities Director is quick to make technical adjustments with each call - when Dad had trouble hearing, he got head phones; when Dad rejected these, he connected speakers to the tablet. The speakers are phenomenal, giving such great sound, and making him think I am right there with him.

One call, Dad asked me very seriously: 

"What's your evaluation of Mom?"

He had slipped back in time. 

Background story - Mom suffered from mental illness and Dad spent years asking me this same question, as if to get reassurance that she was doing well. Often, I think, he was seeking a 'pat on the back' because she always refused any and all medical help; Dad didn't fight her about this, and simply took care of her himself. If I responded, "she seems great," then I was effectively saying he was doing well by her.

Mom died a year and a half ago, so "What's your evaluation of Mom?" is a very odd question these days.

I responded gently, "I think she's calm. I think she's missing you."

He nodded his head, resignedly...perhaps, understanding.

Then I said, "What's your evaluation of you?"

He said, "What?"

I repeated the question.

He said, "I'm sad." 

Ah, isn't that the truth? Aren't we all? Isn't this hard? How are we supposed to feel anything other than sad these days?

I decided to be silly and give him a taste of his own medicine - 

"Well then, my Dad always says, you have to stand on your head and turn your frown upside down." 

This made him chuckle. 

Which I call a win.

Just like I do with my preschoolers, I have to take Dad exactly as he is, in whatever mood I find him. The Activities Director does a great job "transitioning" Dad to the call, getting him ready a few minutes beforehand, trying to get him excited and alert. It doesn't always work out. Our last video chat, he had absolutely zero interest in talking to me. He looked off to the side, not acknowledging my voice at all; I asked question after question, trying to joke with him, compliment him, using up pretty much everything in my "bag of tricks." Then I said, "Gee, Dad, you are really making me 'up' my entertainment game, today; I guess you really aren't in the mood to talk." Dad turned his face right to the screen and said, "Would you allow me to go downstairs and get a cup of coffee? Bye, Maureen."

Ha! 

That's called, 'being shown the door.'


Every call brings an anecdote, some surprising little nugget, a shared moment together. I am truly thankful to have the ability to video chat. 

It is so good to see him.

Tony and I "zooming" with Dad.

Musings and rambles

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

I cannot seem to land on any one topic for a blogpost today, so here are a few rambles related to this COVID-19 pandemic:

Dad

These are strange times indeed. Tomorrow, I will have my first ever video chat with my Dad, who is 90 years old. How will this even work? He has rather severe vision impairment, and he is nearly deaf. Nevertheless, I am so excited that this technology exists, and that there is the possibility of connecting with him in real time. I am so thankful that his nursing home has offered this option to us.

He has been in isolation for several weeks now, and he has stayed healthy and clear of the virus. There was one case of COVID-19 in the nursing home; this case was isolated immediately, and there have been no more cases in some three weeks. Our fingers are crossed that this will remain true, and that these dear residents will somehow miss this pandemic. Unfortunately, this means that we won't be able to visit inside the building with Dad for the foreseeable future. 

Flowers

This morning I went outside to water my new red geraniums in the big pot next to the side entrance of my house, only to find there were no more blooms. Every single bloom had been eaten by some renegade deer, sometime overnight. Unbelievable! Perhaps the deer read my post from last week, where I confessed to feeling guilty about this purchase during a pandemic? There's irony or karma there, or something.

The Classroom
We got word that there will be no returning to school for the rest of the school year; only virtual learning for the weeks ahead. We left school so abruptly back in mid-March, with the now-foolish assumption that this would be a break of one to two weeks. We just walked out that day. Did we seal the goldfish crackers and put them away in the plastic bin? What papers are in my cubby? What bulletin boards are up? How many overdue library books are on the book shelf? I find myself thinking about the paint that I left in the paint cups.

Children
So many fun moments with little ones these past few days. In our latest FaceTime chat, my granddaughter (17 months old) leafed the pages of a favorite board book, and called out the animal noises for each page - she's reading right? Truly a delight to watch her excitement with that book.

Then, there were the phone calls with my preschool students. One silver lining to this pandemic is the one-on-one conversations I am having, uninterrupted, with each of these treasures. I heard one passionate story after another - playing with dolls in the dollhouse, planting seeds and now the plant has three leaves, the finding of a beetle and its larvae in the woods (Dad's an entomologist!), building a cardboard house for a toy elephant, and the plot to the latest Ninjago (this was totally over my head). One preschooler insisted on reading me Peter's Chair by Ezra Jack Keats, knowing this was one of my favorite picture books - she turned every page and shared what she recalled, often using the exact words as written. She truly is showing early reading skills. I am impressed.

The Cardinals
We had a bit of a windstorm and some rain mid-day, and I looked out the window to see what was transpiring. There in the midst of my redbud tree were two beautiful cardinals, one male (bright red) and one female (lighter red), hanging on for dear life. They were on two separate sides of the tree, both sheltered within multitudinous small branches, as if weathering the impromptu storm with a makeshift lean-to. Both birds were puffed up nice and round, as if they had eaten too many cookies, too, though I suppose they were simply defending themselves against the cold breeze. I was fascinated by their ability to hop around on the branches, moving with the wind, making do. Just trying to make it through. When the gusting subsided, they flew away. I feel lucky to have seen that.

Spring break

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

It's my spring break week, one that was going to be spent at my sister-in-law's, in Florida, at the beach. I was imagining looking for sea glass on early morning walks, feeling the sand and those itsy bitsy shells between my toes, watching for dolphins, and enjoying the warm sun. I was looking forward to fresh grouper sandwiches and maybe some Cuban-style black beans. 

Ah, well.

It's my spring break week, during the COVID-19 pandemic. I've been sleeping, reading, eating, gardening, walking, as I please. All those movies that we saved up on the DVR, well - now's their time. This is a blessing, right? We are healthy, we are together, we are making our own fun, just the two of us. I have one whole week where I do not have to think or worry about virtual teaching.

I'm so aware that my daily problems with this pandemic are, to date, almost entirely irritations, inconveniences. Making masks, wearing masks, waiting to get into a grocery store by first lining up at safe distance, keeping distance from others on the walking path, only being able to see my children and granddaughter through FaceTime, having to learn new technology in order to teach virtually; all are such "first-world problems." They sound - they are! - like one enormous whine.

We have our health. We have a home. We have income. We are blessed.

We went to the Home Depot this morning to get some tomato plants for our vegetable garden, and some flowers for the yard. We picked up some plants for our neighbor, as well, to consolidate the trips, to minimize all our travel.

This trek - is it really essential? 

How does one define essential? 

Why do I feel guilty about this simple pleasure?

There was a long line of immigrant workers, hoping for day work. They always line up at this store. I know this. Yet, usually - back in the time when things were normal - they've all been hired first thing in the morning. It was mid-day when we arrived at the store, and there was a very long queue, everyone spaced six feet apart, the workers are all wearing masks, waiting. Waiting for work that probably doesn't exist, in this pandemic. 

My heart hurts.

The movement through the store was slow, staggered. Employees in bright orange vests had us line up apart from one another, and wait to enter the store until after others had exited. Maryland now expects everyone to wear a mask in stores - and, yes, there we all were, wearing masks. We all moved cautiously through the store, meeting one another's eyes above the masks, halting in place and allowing the other to pass, when needed. It was quiet. It was orderly. It was sad.

My heart hurts.

Use wipes on the handle of the cart. Wipe yourself down when you are back in your car. Throw your mask and clothes in the washer when you get home. Wash hands, wash your face.

Yes, I guess today's slice is just a whine, a ramble, a writing of this snapshot in time.

My heart hurts.

Apr13Poetry - There's a Hand

I'm trying something new, taking a risk this month - participating in
#VerseLove with Sarah Donovan,
hoping to write poetry every day this April.







Today's challenge is to write a poem based on a dream or a nightmare; to begin, consider what happened in the dream, write down emotions associated with these events or moments, and then create a poem that is at least 15 lines long.


I keep thinking about my seventeen-month old granddaughter and a recent photograph, that shows nothing more than her hand...she has hidden herself inside a dark closet, delighted with this new game. This fascinates me; the dark is the stuff of my nightmares.





There’s a Hand

There’s a hand sticking out of the closet,

Fingers curled, reaching, grasping,

The breath is faint, labored, forced,

What moves in the dark, thrashing?

There’s a hand sticking out of the closet,

Which side of nightmare is worse -

Only a hint of what is emerging,

Or trapped within dark and cursed?

There’s a hand sticking out of the closet,

A brave, fearless detective

She chooses to look within the dark,

To explore new perspective.

There’s a hand sticking out of the closet,

Followed by giggles and pants

Just like Lucy in Narnia, she’s

Determined to take the chance.

There’s a hand sticking out of the closet

Breaking out, coming back to us,

Watch how isolation, dark, and scary

Meets daring and resilience.

There’s a hand sticking out of the closet,

Freely choosing the unknown,

She knows deep and dark is also free

There is much magic at home. 

Apr11Poetry - Blanket of fog

I'm trying something new, taking a risk this month - participating in
#VerseLove with Sarah Donovan,
hoping to write poetry every day this April.







Today's challenge was surprisingly hard! The inspiration was to take a topic of news, consider both the facts and my emotions in response to these facts...attempt to write two verses, in whatever poetic style I desired, reflecting these facts and emotions.

This pandemic is blanketed

by a dense fog of

virtual news,

virtually every moment,

must listen, must see, must read,

today’s briefings,

surprise findings,

latest data,

expert opinions,

breaking reports, and,

let's not forget, 
how to.

Yes, how to wash hands,

keep safe distance, and

make a mask.

The news is unceasing, 

never-ending, 

a blur.

Permeating every tidbit is

race and inequality.

Listen closely, look closely, read closely,

Question it all.

Have you noticed, have you glimpsed,

news about

low-income workers,

on the front-lines,

pushed into poverty,

higher incidence of disease,

Black Americans,

kicked out of Walmart,

minority-owned,

steep hurdles,

removed the inspector general,

no oversight,

expelled 10,00 migrants,

bypass immigration laws,

living on margins,

particularly catastrophic,

and more?

Listen closely, look closely, read closely,

Question it all.

I am so anxious about our world.

I am suspicious about what I don’t know.

I am painfully aware that this administration

is systematically and methodically

hurting others

manipulating laws and procedures

putting up barriers

increasing inequality

growing white supremacy

making it harder to vote

eliminating justice.

This is intentional policy

designed to take advantage of the fog,

to give the perception of helping.

I must adjust my vision,

I must stay alert,

I must seek truth and justice.

Listen closely, look closely, read closely,

Question it all.

SOL20 Slice #23: Somewhere new

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL20).  
All participants are sharing stories about moments in their lives, writing 
 every day for the month of March 2020.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

Somewhere New

This time of isolation, 

physical distancing, 

pandemic and unknown, 

happened so abruptly,

as if 

a stripping,

a shattering,

a mad, impulsive, wild tossing,

of all that we are.

We, 

and all those we know and love,

and all the things we do and care about,

and everything that matters, 

are like the small flecks of pretend precipitation

in someone's snow globe that 

has been randomly grabbed and shaken. 

We get to wait and 

watch ourselves land,

somewhere new.

SOL20 Slice #13: Pandemic

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL20).  
All participants are sharing stories about moments in their lives, writing 
 every day for the month of March 2020.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

Upside down, inside out, topsy turvy, whoa!

Just yesterday, everything seemed almost normal. Yes, the coronavirus was a huge topic of conversation, yet it still felt somewhat removed from my life. Everything seemed to be going on as normal. This morning, that changed. My D.C. school is closed until (at least) April 1st. All the schools in my state (Maryland) are closed until then, too. Smithsonian museums are closed. Theater performances are cancelled. My church is hosting a "virtual" service on the next several Sundays.

I am hard at work trying to create a "Virtual Learning Showcase," because our big school event has been cancelled and we want families to be able to see what their children have been doing at school.  

Surreal.

In some ways, as I prepare myself mentally for this unexpected time, I think it is not unlike being home due to a blizzard or hurricane. There's less likelihood of a power outage with this crisis. There's no snow to shovel, no flooded basements or roof leaks with which to deal, no high winds circling around the house. 

I have this amazing quantity of found time for reading, cooking, writing, exercise...anything I want to do at home. I should accomplish great things, right? Slicers, this could be the easiest March writing challenge EVER, with so much time available each day, right?!

Right now, we're all healthy.

We slipped over to visit with our granddaughter this morning - what a pleasure, on a Friday morning. A gift, really.

Right now, we're all solvent.

Everyone in my immediate family has steady income during this crisis.

A gift, for sure.

This is SO strange.

There is this ominous feeling that the worse is yet to come. 

Who will get sick first? Will my son with an auto-immune disease escape this insidious virus? Am I carrying it right now, from all the sick children I've been around at school?

This beautiful world around me - how will it change? 

We are certainly being tested. This pandemic illustrates how interconnected we are. There are no real borders, there are no walls to stop this from spreading. There are no security forces or police to prevent it from getting us. There's just us, beautiful us, taking care of us, in the most basic ways - taking time and care to wash our hands thoroughly. 

Truly, bizarre.

What if this is a time of great learning for us?

We see - what kind of a leader we need as President.

We see - how important it is to have news and information that is trustworthy.

We see - what kind of health care and access everyone deserves to have.

We see - what kind of job security and sick leave everyone deserves to have.

We see - how everyone deserves to have a place to call home.

We see - how important it is to be welcoming and caring to all.

We see - how essential it is to have support services when people are stressed.

Be well, one and all, be well.