In the Time of Corona

I can't imagine how many people are are probably using that title or thinking about their lives in terms of this virus that has captured the attention of the world by wreaking upon us a global crisis.

It troubles me that even this, this which is devastating populations and disrupting life the way we knew it, still hasn't mobilized the world, the country to work together.

I always have these big ideas that don't go anywhere because I'm not in charge.  I have long thought that our government should have had the forethought to establish regional coalitions of public and private entities who were organized to respond to natural and human-made disasters.  Partnerships that detailed what would be done by whom and how  in concert with one another.  Then when disaster strikes, as it will and does, we would be prepared and working together.

I heard that Belgium shut down its restaurants and bars but the Netherlands did not, so people just crossed the border to have their beer and party.   And the virus followed.

Honestly, I'm not sure what day I started keeping to myself and limiting my contact with others.  I remember beginning to be aware of things the week of March 9.  I continued to do some things with people, perhaps more carefully, but not with distancing.

My son was the one who insistently sounded the alarm with me and his father. He kept at it and got his father to work from home a week before it became the norm.  He financially stepped up to get his sister out of New York City and back home.  And he stipulated she'd have to stay with him and away from us for two weeks because she'd been to Mardi Gras and NYC, both hotspots.  I am so grateful to him for his persistence in getting his family members to treat this situation seriously.

Sheltering-in-place is particularly difficult when you are an extrovert, live alone, and can't recharge your battery by being with people.  

This imposed isolation has taken its toll.  There are days in a row that I don't shower or get dressed.  My individual therapy appointment has been on the phone and gone well but I recently joined a group and therapy on Zoom is not working for me.  I hope that improves.

Every day I tell myself how incredibly fortunate I am to have my little home, a stocked pantry, and the ability to turn on a faucet and get water (hot water) any time I wish.  I hope I remain grateful for all that I do have.

Not being a gardener, I don't have that outdoor thing to sink in to and my knees are problematic, so I'm not able to bike or walk sufficiently.  The knee replacement surgery that took a year to get scheduled is not happening April 20th.  Even though it has yet to be cancelled, I can't imagine wanting to be in any hospital right now and how or whom would be willing to come take care of me for the six-eight weeks I'd need help.

There are so many things I could be doing: every closet and drawer need to be cleaned out, there's a shed out back that could use reorganizing, my silverware and jewelry need polishing, my jewelry is a whole n'other story and easily could take a day.  But motivation is lacking.

My coping mechanism is cooking. I cook and then have too much food that I pack up and give away — at a distance.  My kids, ex, and friends are the beneficiaries and that gives me some pleasure.

I struggle to make a schedule, set some goals, focus on anything.  Without a routine, time is floating.  I've always been a night owl so my usual bedtime of 1-2 am has shifted even later.  Right now it's 3:09 am and I'm wide awake.  

TV is my friend.  It always has been and now I just silently pray that DirectTV and the internet keep working.

Maybe I'll be able to get back to writing on a regular basis, the way I did when I started this blog eight years ago — when I was still married, still working, and posting twice a week religiously.  Perhaps this will again become an outlet for me, a way of communicating with others I know and many I don't.  I just looked at my blog stats and saw that last month there were 743 page views in Sweden!  Hello out there in Scandinavia!  That motivated me.

Tonight I attended a 70th birthday party via Zoom.  The birthday girl was my dear friend's sister and they'd expected to be celebrating together in Barcelona.  Instead of Spain, 14 people from six or seven states sang, toasted, spoke over one another, had technical difficulties, and were all amazed that technology allowed for such a virtual gathering.

We're going to get through this.  We're going to struggle.  We're going to need support.  I hope reaching out helps.

Stay well...

Getting Ready for the Snow

It's 2:11 am and I've finally finished with the snowstorm prep.  It took me until 10:42 pm to get started.  Oh, I'd gone out the day before to buy lemons and milk. I had plenty else but still there were things on sale and so I bought them.  Ground turkey and shoulder veal chops and a large bag of kale.  But at 10:42 I realized that we'd probably lose power and what did I need to cook?  Cooked food would stay longer and certainly could be stored outside if it was THAT cold. So I started with the zucchini bread.  The recipe would make two loaves, it would be good for breakfast or dessert and I'd have a loaf at least to give away if I ended up going to another house with a fireplace.  I love my little rental house filled with all the things I love and bring me joy but alas the TWO fireplaces are boarded up (very nicely painted with contrasting trim) and it is the one material thing I miss from before.

Once I got the zucchini bread in the oven I thought about the turkey chili and realized that I could use the extra grated zucchini in there, so I chopped the red and orange peppers that were beginning to lose their crisp, and an onion, and the ground turkey, and that shredded zucchini — and that would mean that I could fill up the dishwasher once I got through cooking.

Then there was the first-time-ever crock pot-made Gypsy soup (using up the last of the sweet potatoes my daughter failed to make at Thanksgiving) that I'd done and then pureed. I wish I'd driven it over to a friend of a friend who can only eat pureed foods. Well, I bottled that soup and thought if I washed the crockpot I could transfer the chili to it (once it was done) and then leave it on warm all night. If the power went, maybe the chili would stay warm. The fridge already had jasmine rice that would go well and there was some sour cream, shredded cheddar, and cilantro to put on top. The veal had already baked in the oven with celery and onions and tomatoes and yellow peppers, white wine, rosemary, thyme and lemon zest. That too would go well with the jasmine rice underneath and the very last of the parsley from my container garden on the porch.


 

    



There was a sink full of pots and 
pans and the crock pot and the loaf pans but finally, finally, it was all done. When I took the recyclables and garbage outside, the first dusting of snow was covering the cars and the ground.  It's not supposed to stop for 48 hours.

It's now 3:28 am and I still haven't put the flannel sheets on my bed but at least the food prep is done.  Old habits die hard...I'm still cooking for a family of four!  Still I was motivated: I got this post written and struggled with formatting the photos.  Something I haven't done in almost 18 months. 

Thanks to my ex, the artificial tree is out of the shed loft and assembled where it needs to reside in the living room.  I added more lights and started to decorate the house but there's lots to do once tomorrow comes...well, actually it already came.

3:44.  I've put the eyedrops in and think it's time to shut down.  With all this prep, let's hope I can sleep. I'm hoping to get back my writing groove — hopefully this was the start.  In the meantime, wishing you and yours the happiest of holidays and — flannel sheets or not, stay warm!!

Headed Toward Normal

from countryliving.com

It was 11:07 PM when I first walked into the kitchen. I finally stop watching TV (though Sunday night is filled with TV favorites) and got up to DO something.  It wasn’t as if I hadn’t done anything all day; it had been a productive day on many fronts — I’d made a chicken and broccoli salad that I took to a friend’s to lunch and help reorganize kitchen cabinets — a fun job for me and helpful to her.

I’d gone to help the once-husband unpack a carload of our daughter’s stuff that he’d just helped pack and drove to his house to unload and store; and I’d decided to see (via email) if it was possible to arrange a weekend reunion with some college friends in a city where none of us lived.

I had my lists of to-dos (getting ready to leave town for my nephew’s wedding) and among the many items was making a tomato tart.  I had tomatoes freshly picked from a friend’s neighbor and now there was a possibility my friend and her family might come for dinner and I didn’t have any idea of what I would make.  But the tomato tart would come in handy. I needed to get up and make it.

While I was slicing the onions and sautéing them (with olive oil and the lemon thyme I’d just cut from my little garden) I started thinking about a question someone asked someone else in my presence:  

“When were you the happiest?”

That was some question. It wasn’t a question I’d ever thought about answering.. And while I was trying to think of my answer to that question, surprisingly the answer just popped up —  “Now.”

That was surprising.   There were so many happy-s in my life:  Happy when I met my husband; happy when we got married; happy when I had my kids; happy at so many times but (and this was “but” big) all those times I was happy, I was also saddled with stress and/or worry.  Always.  My other twins: stress and worry.

All of those happy occasions in my past were times when I was in control, managing a lot, taking care of a lot — people and things.  I was orchestrating my life and theirs.  No one asked me or demanded I do it.  It was my mission.  It was what I thought was my lot in life and I was pretty good at it but it wasn’t great for my relationships and it wasn’t ever carefree.

Now most of my day, my every day, is spent only on taking care of me.. It’s a pretty easy job!  For the most part I feel happy and content.  I may have times when I wish I weren’t alone and times when I wish I had a partner to do things with — things like listening to music, dancing, or trying out a new recipe on.   And I’d like to be working some, but that hasn’t worked out yet but still — for the most part, life is good and I’m not worried!  I just signed a new lease (Has it been a year already?), my physical issues are behind me at the moment and I don’t have much stress.

I’ve never lived this way before. Living this way now is really a gift; and whatever it cost to get this gift, well, I guess right now I’m feeling the payoff.  It was 11:30 at night and I was doing exactly what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it.  That is my life these days.  Amazingly.

It’s been two long years of real transition but right now — I think I’m starting to edge into the phase of what might become my new normal.

I’ll keep you posted.

Dear American Airlines

Dear American Airlines,

I have been flying American Airlines since I was in college (40+ years ago!) and have always been a fan but never more than a recent trip I took (with my American Advantage miles!) from RDU to (get ready) Martha’s Vineyard by way of DCA.  I had received an unexpected and lovely invitation to visit the Vineyard for a few days and then decided to see an old college friend living outside Boston before heading back home.  I was amazed that I could do the trip with my carefully saved miles and could actually fly in to Martha’s Vineyard (saving me the bus and ferry fares to get there). I was thrilled.

The day of travel June 25, there were weather issues elsewhere (loads of rainstorms) and at RDU we were waiting and waiting for our plane to arrive.  I began to get nervous knowing that my connection in DC was a tight one.  I tried to stay positive.

Our plane arrived around the time we were due to take off but still, it was only a forty-minute flight.  I stayed optimistic (not my natural state of affairs).  I kept telling flight attendants I had a tight connection; could they be sure I had the wheelchair assist at the gate?  Between two bad knees (getting shots in July, fingers crossed) and more recently a “collapsed” left foot, a wheelchair saved me pain and further damage to an already-not-great ankle.

We landed at 1:38 pm (about 30 minutes later than expected) but I was relieved, “I’ll make the plane with a scramble,” I thought as the flight to MVY wasn’t due to depart until 2:17.  Still, it was going to be tight.

And then.  And then we didn’t have a gate.  Or we had a gate but the gate was changed. Or we had a gate but then it was cancelled.  Another four minutes before we could head for our gate.  But then another plane was assigned to that gate ahead of us.  The clock kept running, the minutes were slipping away.  2:01pm.  I reluctantly thought, “I need to find out when’s the next flight,” and saw there was NO next flight.  Hmmm.  I looked on the next day, Monday, thinking I might have to stay in Washington DC overnight and take the first flight in the morning but no matter how I searched, NO MATCHES to be found.

Bummer.  I realized maybe American didn’t fly to Martha’s Vineyard during the week…now what?  I asked a flight attendant was anyone else on board headed for that connection?  No.  Only me.  “They’ll never hold the flight for one person,” I said to her mournfully.  I was almost in tears.  So close and yet so far.  I wasn’t sure what was possible to do.  Most of the options were time-consuming and too expensive.

Finally, we headed for a gate.  I’d already texted my host that there was no way I’d make it there that day.  UGH.  We all started to line up to exit.  I got my overhead bag out and braced myself trying not to be too upset and then, and THEN the first-class flight attendant at the door said, “Martha’s Vineyard com’ON, they're holding the plane for you!” and my eyes widened and my face lit up and the passengers ahead of me stepped aside while I scooted to the door where the wheelchair and a gate agent were awaiting me.  Things happened so quickly I never got anyone’s name I just started thanking people as we flew toward gate 34.

“I can’t believe they’re holding the plane…you don’t have another flight today and I couldn’t find one tomorrow…”

“That’s why!” this lovely gate agent said to me, “Don’t worry, they knew that and they’re holding the plane.  You gotta have faith!” and as I whizzed through the door onto the jet bridge and was wheeled down the ramp and quickly made my way onto the plane (with the next two flight attendants welcoming me aboard and congratulating me on making it) I just felt so lucky and so grateful and so thankful that someone, MORE than one someone at American Airlines decided to go out of their way and make my day.

Thank you for such terrific service!

Taken from my window, happily making the flight to my vacation!

What Will It Take To Make Me Happy?

My therapist asked me this question the other day:  

"What will it take to make you happy?"

It was a good question.  It's been two years since I made the decision to leave my marriage and left.  I've been back and forth to the house physically over those two years — but not to the marriage. Tough. Up and down. Still sad.  And uncertain about what my "new normal" looks like — but over all, across many aspects, I'm living happier and feeling so much better.  

Now I'm spending my time, energy and finances (for the most part) on myself — a new experience. Totally new. My truth is that most of my life I made myself somewhat indispensable (or at least valuable) by taking care of things for others.  By doing that I got the attention I needed; the attention that wasn't available at home.  Good behavior got me attention (since second grade).  But that automatic-robo focus on the external (It's-all-his-fault) and lack of focus on my internal (What's my part in this?) in part created the unhappiness I found myself living in.  

From young adulthood on, my driven, commanding (ever-worried) behavior got me great jobs, made me great friends, paid our way (partially) through life (along with my persistent frugality).  But it wasn't all beneficial. Not for me or my relationships.  I trusted next to nothing.  If I wasn't hyper-vigilant, something bad was going to happen.  And a married a guy who virtually never worried (way before I came along) and thought about it even less after we married because mastermind-me was always on the job.  It was a vicious cycle.

We're both free of that now.  It's a better, easier, happier life — but it came at a price. And now, moving forward means leaving behind the only male partner I've had for 36 years.  It doesn't come easy!  Hard to turn off the motor in my mind that still looks for the clothes I think he needs (in thrift stores, of course) or still wants to pass along info I think he could use, or still thinks about feeding him the leftovers I know he'd enjoy having.  But that coupled life is no longer my reality.  My reality is grieving the loss of the marriage and grieving the loss of couple-dom, and I need to sit with that.  Something I don't find easy to do.

My daughter is going through a break-up and she's decided to write about it, which is SO healthy.   And it reminded me how I've shirked writing about my own transition.  From where I sit, it seems too hard to categorize or define or even know what my life is day to day.  How to write about that?  

What's on the table for me right now is so uncertain, so nebulous, that I scarce wanna write about it — but writing about it is what helps.  At least for me.  And I'd guess for our daughter, too. [FYI, that was just a place of transition for me, choosing to write "our" instead of "my" daughter.]  Anyway, none of this territory is known to me.  

I make choices every day and only as they benefit me.  I don't really need to consider anyone else — or if I do, it's because I CHOOSE to.  It's such a relief — such a gift to just focus on what I want and not need to take anything else into consideration.  Amazingly freeing.

And yet I've had two health scares recently (urgent care/ER) and at least one will require surgery pretty immediately and being on your own makes you feel really vulnerable. All the progress you've made on feeling strong and being able to exist solo, fritters away when you're in the ER and someone is asking, "Emergency contact?"

It's hard to write about this stuff, this transition.  It's always shifting to me.  But writing about it (along with time spent in therapy) forces me to examine it and that helps me learn from it.  I've examined a lot in my life and in real depth — but not examined myself.  I haven't been in help-myself mode in, well, forever.  At least that's how it feels.  It's a frightening business — but it's a must.

One of these days, I'll get into a writing routine again; find some "new normal", but it's not right now.  

Bear with me— it may take time, but I'm gonna figure out how to truly make myself happy. 

Dear President Trump

This is my postcard on this Ides of Trump...

Dear President Trump,

First let me say, I did not vote for you.  Being from the Northeast I certainly knew of you, may have respected your business acumen in real estate, certainly gave nod to your ability to stay pretty near the top of some game as the decades passed; acknowledged that you're a Survivor. You're a contestant who eventually becomes the host of the show.  

Your congressional speech was aspirational; as those speeches are.  And yes, it didn't offer any details on how you would pay for your vision of what you want your Presidency to achieve, but neither do any of those speeches.  And while I realize it was only words, I was glad to see that you could restrain your tendencies.         At least once.

As a former teacher and an always-educator, my message to you is I'd like to remind you that you are the role model for millions of individuals who look up to and hold their President in esteem. You and your words, actions, and behaviors, impact millions — especially those citizens who aren't yet voters — our young people.

I say this because many, many years back, when I was giving a workshop on academic integrity with the eighth-grade class at a private, elite academy, one of the students justified his choice of actions by saying, "Well if the President can lie, why can't I?"  I was dumbfounded.  Not just at what this student said and believed, but at the fact that not one other adult in the room chose to tackle the ethical issues raised by that response.  

I bring this story up because it was in reference to then-President Clinton. Despite the fact that I am in disbelief at much of what you are doing, that is your right to do.  This is a democracy, flaws and all; it is what we've got, what has worked, what is often envied, and what people fight for.  Democracy will work its way through this the way it always has.  It lies in the words and actions of our elected officials and the populace.  While I'm waiting for democracy to work,  I can't abide by the lack of standard you are setting for our children.  Nor can I understand how those who support you can overlook the crassness and the lack of decency in your daily behavior.

Almost immediately after the inauguration of the Trump presidency, in two very different settings (one on an airplane and the other in a college campus paper) I heard examples of young people behaving in ways I found disturbing.  One was a reference to a student overhearing a few other students openly talking in a racist way while walking across their college campus.  The other way was a college professor headed back to his campus in another state, recounting that all of a sudden some students were balking at the partners they were being teamed with, etc.  To me that was appalling.  And like it or not, you, the President, gave them license to behave that way.

President Trump, here's what I'd ask: Isn't there a way for you to fulfill your new role, do the work you want to do but do it in a more positive, character-building way because it's what's best for all our children?  

I'm not asking you to stop tweeting, but does every day have to be a day that you disparage someone or some group?  Does every day have to be a day that you spout untruths?  Why not do your job without doing that?  I know it's not how you're used to behaving, but you're not in the real estate business NOW (well, at least you shouldn't be).

It's in no one else's control; what you say and do sets a standard for a portion of our populace.   I understand the focus on a bottom-line business approach and attention to more efficiency because we've gotten very top-heavy and incredibly sluggish about how our government runs.  I'm all in favor of improving THAT.  But I deplore how you are governing.  I rail at your lack of discipline and your choice to be uncivil and unwelcoming to those who most need the protection of the Presidency.  

I expect my President to be truthful and compassionate and just — that is what I wish and want and hope for, because it is what everyone who loves America deserves.  Other postcards will say much more, but today I'm focusing on the thing I believe you CAN change.

President Trump, we can disagree on just about everything else but can't we agree that all our children deserve to feel safe from the fear of being uprooted from their families?  Can't we agree that every student deserves to feel safe from harm, be it verbal or physical?  Can't we agree that making America great is making it strong AND kind AND inclusive?

I can.

I hope you can.