A Late Afternoon Autumn Walk

Everything was glowing.

A golden light cast

through the trees,

peeking around the clouds;

gilding leaves, grass,

the very air.

THIS is the gloaming.

Late October,

the sun low,

the air soft,

the breeze blowing through my graying, wild hair.

Red, yellow, russet, orange leaves,

shimmering against the fading blue sky.

Fallen dried leaves dancing,

scraping across the pavement.

I wanted to share the beauty,

but I was alone.

I wanted to bottle it,

for later,

when I needed it.

I couldn’t capture it, but this is the closest I could come.

Wandering Through the Pandemic

NOTE: I wanted to include additional (better) photographs to this post, but the platform wasn’t accepting the format of some. It is a mystery to me. I tried editing them in different ways, accessing them in different ways….I gave up. Oh well. Hopefully you will get my intention.

We are six months into the pandemic. It simultaneously feels like it has been a lifetime and hard to believe that it has been that long. I was looking through photos on my phone and thinking about the journey.

The experience has been both isolating and connecting. I have spent long hours alone. I have also spent hours talking to friends and family.

It is filled with contradictions – an opportunity to commune with nature, but also to feel powerless in the face of nature’s mysteries.

For me it began with my last foray out to dinner with friends in Beacon, New York, on March 7th.  We went to Dia that day and took in the abstract art and pondered its meaning (which I wrote about here).

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The pandemic has continued through today, August 20th, when I took a car ride up the Northway and explored Round Lake, partly driving, partly walking. I was hoping to hike through the nature preserve there but didn’t find a trail. I did find a dock where you could put in a kayak. Unfortunately, I don’t have one. I did find lovely views, brightened by purple loosestrife.

I got back in my car and found a promising bike path. Next time I will have to hook up the carrier to the trunk and bring my bike. I also found a charming shop named Leah’s Cakery. How could I not stop in given that it was apparently named after my daughter? I was rewarded with wonderful iced coffee and a delicious blueberry muffin.

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In these six months I have travelled around the Capital Region visiting previously unseen nature preserves and found many lovely spots, but I have also gone only as far as my backyard for respite.

Some examples of enjoying our back yard:

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Had family come by to swim, while keeping social distance – not easy when delicious babies are involved!

Evidence of some of my hikes throughout the region:

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a moment to appreciate the delicate white flowers

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surprised to find a sculpture on a tree – Montgomery, NY

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Scrambling over rocks in Massachusetts

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Walk through Five Rivers – photo by Barb Bradley

I have observed the arc of the seasons: from the gray skies and barren trees of the end of winter to the deep azure and lush green of middle of summer.

I am probably tanner than I have ever been, though that isn’t saying much.  The sun and I have a complicated relationship. I love it; it doesn’t love me. When I was young, the summer sun would cause a rash. Now with careful use of sunscreen with an spf over 30, I can handle the northern sun (a tropical sun is another story), mostly I freckle, at least I don’t burn. Each time I head out to walk, hike, jog or bike, I slather it on.

In that time, Gary planted a garden and reaped its harvest. He fought off critters that threatened to eat everything, but he won the war. He had a record-breaking tomato crop that we have been happy to share.

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Just some of the bounty from the garden – except the peaches, they came from the supermarket

We had a lot of zucchini, too. I made it every which way, from bread to soup. Luckily Gary and I like both (and they go quite well together, too).

Fortunately, I had stopped coloring my hair long before the pandemic, but I didn’t get it cut until yesterday. It had gotten out of control – frizzy and wild. Over the six months, it has also gotten a good deal grayer, with silver sprinkled in, and white around my face. I don’t mind. I kind of like it, but each time I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror I’m startled by what I see. Hmmm, is that me? After taking a beat, I nod and decide again that I’m good with it. It is a badge of honor – I’ve lived 60 years and it’s okay that people know that.

On some of my hikes I have been accompanied by Gary or a friend, but at least as often I am alone. I am not comfortable going too far afield by myself, but I will walk a well-traveled path. Mostly I go to the U of Albany campus and walk around the pond there. I watched a family of Canadian geese grow from furry goslings to almost full-size. I learned from my daughter-in-law that the black bird I photographed perched on a branch hovering over that pond is a cormorant.  I have also learned that I like being able to put a name to a bird, tree or flower that I see.

For a number of months part of the ring road of the SUNY campus was closed off because they had set up COVID drive-thru testing. Just recently, they reorganized the test site and the full loop is open again. Now that it is late August, I look for signs of students. I have noticed more cars and more people using the tennis courts, but not much evidence of students. The gate to the basketball court is still chained shut. Tennis has been deemed safe to play, basketball is not. The judgments about what is safe and what isn’t keep evolving. Early on the tennis courts were off limits, too.

I am trying to make the best of the situation, trying to internalize that I am blessed. My husband and children are gainfully employed. My mother and in-laws have had health issues made more difficult to address because of COVID, but they have been managing; they have survived thus far. I even got to visit Mom once.

Despite the cooperation of the weather which has allowed us to get outside (though sometimes it has been beastly hot and humid), I feel sad. Hard to shake it, the melancholy that comes from knowing how many have died, how many have and continue to suffer and, while I have faith that a vaccine and treatment will be found, we don’t know how long this will go on.

I work at being positive, each day, finding humor, breathing deeply, looking at pictures of my kids and granddaughter, making my plan to vote and donating funds to candidates I support.  But, truth be told, the sadness remains.

The Dance of the Mask

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Masks ready for my next foray into a public space

As I understand the directive in New York State, you are supposed to be masked (nose and mouth covered) if you are in public when you can’t keep the appropriate physical distance (six feet). Seems simple, but it isn’t.

Some of the complexity I understand – I am confused by what it means in some circumstances (more on that in a bit). Most situations are crystal clear so when people aren’t masked inside stores then they are being defiant or selfish or both. I’m happy to report that the vast majority of folks I see when I go to the Price Chopper are doing it right.

I must confess that I don’t like wearing a mask. I am someone who, under ordinary circumstances, sweats a lot. If I walk around the block, I will be perspiring pretty much regardless of the weather. It is just a fact of my life. My forehead and face get damp easily. Wearing a mask makes it worse. I also wear glasses – contact lenses are not an option for a variety of reasons. The combination of these factors means that I am often looking at the world through fogged up lenses. I need a defroster. Someone should invent glasses that have that feature. Maybe windshield wipers?

Despite this inconvenience, I wear the mask. It isn’t comfortable, it isn’t pleasant, but I wear it. I don’t want to put others or myself at risk.

Now to the grey areas and questions I have…

Sometimes I see people driving in their car with their masks on. I wonder why. If they have passengers that would explain it. But many times, they are alone. I don’t wear my mask if I am alone in my car or if I am riding with my husband. Am I missing something?

The other day I stopped to put gas in my car. There were four other people getting gas at the other pumps. No one had their mask on. I did. Though we were outside, I didn’t think we were distant enough to go without. Again, am I missing something? Why weren’t others wearing their masks?

I wonder about the etiquette of mask wearing when outside in public. I don’t live in a densely populated area. When I go out to walk in the neighborhood, I am able to keep an appropriate distance even if I see someone else. Should I still be wearing my mask under those circumstances? Given that it makes me even warmer and that my glasses fog up, I prefer not to, but I also want to do the right thing. For all I know, my neighbors are grumbling, “why isn’t she masked?” Though, generally, when I see other walkers or bike riders on my street they aren’t masked either. Maybe I can stop fretting about this one.

If I walk in a more heavily trafficked area, I will have my mask on or at the ready so that I can mask up if I approach other people. I will give others a wide berth on the sidewalk and appreciate when others do that for me. Here is my question in this scenario: if all parties are wearing masks, do you need to still to be six feet apart? Can you just walk by each other without taking a detour into the street or onto the grass?

I got an estimate for some work to be done on our deck. The guy came to the house, he rang the doorbell and he backed away to keep an appropriate distance. I opened the door and asked him to go around back so we could talk by the deck. He was wearing a mask when he rang the bell, but it only covered his mouth. I wore my mask when I went outside to meet him in the backyard. I saw him adjust his to cover his nose and it stayed that way for about two minutes before it slid down. He didn’t fix it. I was wondering if I should say something to him. This is another etiquette question. I don’t feel comfortable correcting people on their mask usage. In this case, we were outside, and I could back away when his mask slipped, so I let it go.

To be honest, though, I have never asked someone to adjust their mask, even when I have been in a store. It is all so fraught. I don’t want to be in a viral video where someone goes nuts in response to being called out for not abiding by the rules. I don’t envy store employees who have to enforce the policy. What a thankless, and possibly dangerous, job. It is hard to believe we have come to a point where someone would actually pull a gun (this happened in a Walmart, of course) when admonished to put on a mask. It’s craziness!

I find it very stressful thinking about it all the time and trying to figure out the right way to handle each situation. As I said before, sometimes it is totally clear – other than when I am in my own house, if I am indoors, I am masked. But there are all these other situations where I do this dance. I worry whether I am doing it right and then I worry whether others are. I don’t want to think about it anymore! Maybe it would be simpler to just wear it all the time.

 

Observations and Questions in the Time of COVID-19

Is there more birdsong these days or have I just slowed down enough to hear it?

Same question about critters in general – my yard is filled with bunnies, chipmunks, squirrels, deer, woodchucks. Were they always there and I didn’t notice? As I was writing this, a fawn came out of the woods and strolled across our yard!

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one of two fawns in our yard this morning

I’m thinking of taking up bird watching as a new hobby.

Why do people bother wearing a mask if they don’t cover their nose with it? Are there any medical conditions that are truly worsened by wearing a mask? And, if they are that compromised, why are they walking through the supermarket in the first place? Though I have been tempted, I have never said anything to anyone who was wearing their mask incorrectly. Should I? I don’t want to police other people’s behavior. I also don’t want to get into an argument. At this point, what is the chance that they don’t know better?

It is hard to ignore the fact that poor people of color have been disproportionately harmed by coronavirus – in the incidence of illness, number of deaths, job loss. Perhaps our awareness of how inequitable our society is will be the one good thing that comes out of this catastrophe. The question remains, how will we respond? Will that awareness translate into structural change?

The number of deaths is mind-numbing. It feels like we have stopped noticing. I guess we have to do that, or we would be paralyzed. Will we ever deal with the enormity of it? Will the New York Times run another front page story listing the names of the next 100,000?

How do you decide how much vigilance in keeping physically distant and washing or sanitizing your hands is enough? Our daughter and son-in-law-to-be visited from Somerville, MA this past weekend. The reason for the trip was to order her wedding dress! A bright spot in an otherwise dreary time – even if we don’t know if the party can go on as planned.

The agreement about the arrangements for the visit (per my husband who is a doctor) was that we would keep physically distant. We didn’t hug. We did most of our visiting either outside or at least six feet apart in the house. We didn’t share serving utensils. They stayed in a bedroom in the basement. Any time he handed something to them, Gary ‘purelled’ before and after. I was not quite as careful, though I did my best. I’m thinking that if any one of us has COVID, we exposed the others just by being in the same house for an extended period. Did it make sense to take all of those precautions? I am thankful they visited, regardless of what happens. Unless all four of us get sick, we won’t know that we got it from each other anyway. All it takes is one virus-laden sneeze from a person on the one occasion you go out to put gas in your car… You can go round and round thinking about this, ultimately you make your best guess after weighing the risks and the benefits. The risks of their visit, given that Gary, the most vigilant among us, is the only one out in the work world on a day-to-day basis, and none of us had symptoms, seemed low. The benefit, especially to my emotional well-being, was huge. How are you dealing with making these calculations? Is it making you as crazy as it is making me?

As this drags on, will we get more lax about it?

My mom called asking my thoughts about getting picked up by her brother, taken to his house, visiting for an hour (so she can participate in our family movie club which is done online), and then getting driven back to her place. Her I-pad is too outdated to support the software for her to join in from her own place. She wanted to go. I thought about how hard the isolation has been on her, how much she enjoys movie club, weighed the risks and the benefits, and told her she had my support.

I hope with all my heart that these are the correct calculations.

It’s Not Getting Easier

I thought this would get easier. When the quarantine started, I thought I would settle into the new routine without too much difficulty. After all, it wasn’t all that different from my life before coronavirus. In the beginning I didn’t feel particularly anxious – I had moments where I worried about my husband’s and our children’s health, but I wasn’t terribly fearful of getting ill myself. I was doing what I needed to do, spending more time cleaning and cooking, streaming more movies and t.v. shows, getting out to exercise. I thought, as time wore on, I would get used to it. I am surprised to be finding it harder and harder, even as restrictions are easing.

I’m thinking about why and I don’t have an answer. I have some possible explanations. Though we saw our daughter on Monday, which was wonderful, the ache of missing our kids gets deeper. Not seeing our two-year old granddaughter for three months is beyond painful. Though we FaceTime, I worry that she won’t be comfortable with us when we finally do see each other in person. When I think about it rationally, I don’t believe there will be long term damage to her or our relationship. But, that doesn’t ease the heaviness I feel.

I haven’t seen my mom in months either. On Tuesday the independent living community where she resides began a phased reopening, which is great news. Other than getting outside on her own porch, she has been confined to her one-bedroom apartment for the duration. I can’t imagine how I would have coped with that! Now she will be allowed to walk the grounds in accordance with a schedule (to maintain social distancing). I worry about the toll this has taken on her physical strength and mental acuity. It saddens me that I haven’t been to visit. Now that she can go outside, it is more practical for me to take the 3.5 hour drive to see her. I feel some relief knowing that, but again, we don’t fully understand the damage done or what the future holds. We aren’t out of the woods yet.

Before this happened, we were in the midst of planning our daughter’s wedding in December (2020) – a joyous occasion; an event I take great pleasure in helping to plan. We have not changed the date or arrangements, yet. I so want things to go off without a hitch, she deserves a great, festive celebration. Even if we didn’t have to deal with coronavirus, I would be worried about it all falling into place. Now with the specter of postponing or making major adjustments, all the unknowns weigh on me.

Perhaps more than anything, though, I am troubled by the news; I can’t tune it out. Whether it is the recent reminders that racism is alive and well or the latest effort by Trump to distract from the pandemic, I am sincerely worried about the fate of our country. I know there are good people – many of them. They may, in fact, outnumber the ignorant, ugly ones. But it seems that the latter have more power than their numbers should allow. Our president represents that ignorant, ugly strain of America. While it might be wrong to assume all of Trump’s supporters are of the same ilk, it hard for me to not think the worst. I am aware of Republicans who are ‘never Trumpers,’ but they aren’t in office and wield little power.

If all a Republican can say is that they wish Trump would ‘tone it down,’ as one person I know said recently, then they are blind to the damage being done. Toning it down doesn’t begin to undo the harm. They are unwilling to acknowledge the erosion of the rule of law, ethics and honesty. People may have been cynical about politics before his election, but after 3.5 years of Trump, the idea of virtue in public service appears to be almost dead. Can faith in public institutions be reclaimed?

I want to believe in the potential of our country, in the bedrock values that I thought were at the heart of our founding. Though we may not have fully realized those values – liberty and justice for all – I thought that the vast majority believed in those principles. I find myself asking if ethics, honesty and integrity aren’t part of the foundation of liberty and justice, then how do we achieve those ends?  We seem to have forgotten that the ends do not justify the means.

Just a couple of weeks ago, as I was walking with a friend, keeping an appropriate social distance, I was offering her optimism. She was feeling doubtful. I told her that science will triumph. A vaccine and/or treatment would be found, and we would emerge from the darkness. I still believe that scientists will find a solution to Covid-19, but I now fear that will not be enough. We are at a point where we seem to live in different realities, depending on where you get your news and your own predispositions. If a vaccine is found, will people believe in it and consent to take it? Will it be viewed as a hoax? Will it be made available to everyone?

The inequality, the inadequacy of our health care system, the vulnerability of our economy has been laid bare by coronavirus. Do we have the will to face these deeper issues? Do enough of us even see those issues? I never thought I would come to a point where I would ask these fundamental questions.

I need to reclaim my optimism. I’m not sure how to do that, other than to wait for election day and hope for a blue wave. The only thing to do is to keep on keeping on – writing, looking for constructive, productive activities, and caring for family and friends. Hopefully the gloom will lift long before November.

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I took this photo on my walk yesterday. Though I appreciated the beauty, it didn’t lift my spirits. That’s how I know I’m not in a good place.

Winds of Unrest

I hate this relentless wind. When did it become so consistently gusty here in Albany, New York? I thought Chicago was the windy city. Is this a global warming byproduct? Is it my imagination that it is windier? Am I overreacting because the coronavirus quarantine has made me crazy?

I find it unsettling – I hear the howling. I see branches waving wildly. Yesterday, April 21st, after the rain/sleet/snow showers passed, the sun came out, but the wind remained. I needed to get out of the house, so I took a walk. I kept my eyes open for flying debris. I was worried that a garbage can, it was collection day in our neighborhood, would take flight. I wanted to make sure I was ready to take evasive action! I walked quickly, scanning both sides of the street. Garbage cans slid around, a couple tipped over, but none became airborne. I did my walk and made it home without incident. Phew.

I do remember another time I was disturbed by the wind and we weren’t even under a quarantine, so maybe I just have a thing about unpredictable weather. We were vacationing on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. We had a tradition of going there during the April school break. We met another family and shared a house for ten consecutive years. One year we splurged and rented a beachfront home. It was huge with three floors. The bottom floor had a play room and a bedroom, the middle floor had a master suite and two more bedrooms, and the top floor had the kitchen, a great room with a fireplace, and another master. It was a fabulous home. Unfortunately, it was a stormy week with heavy gray skies and driving rain. The wind screamed through the chimney. I couldn’t relax, especially at night. I was thankful we were in the suite on the second floor – at least the wind’s moaning wasn’t as loud there. In the years that followed we continued to vacation on the Outer Banks, but in a house a few blocks off the beach.

Today, April 22nd, the wind continues to howl. We have several dead trees on our property. Last fall I arranged to have them removed but the person who was going to do it injured his ankle. I didn’t find a replacement, so we postponed the project. None of the trees are that close to the house, but they could damage the pool and fence. Unrelated to the recent weather, I started contacting contractors to do the work – I think it is something that can be done despite the nonessential business shutdown. I met with two contractors today in the middle of the windstorm (we maintained appropriate social distancing). We walked to the area where the work needs to be done, all the while I was listening for the sound of wood cracking, anticipating that a tree could fall. Apparently both contractors shared my concern; they looked around quickly and suggested we go around to the front to talk, there are no trees there. I readily agreed. They didn’t want to be in the shadow of those dead trees any more than I did. I’m saddened by the loss of life, even if it is tree-life. It’s painful but necessary to cut them down. Until they are removed, I have to hope that the wind doesn’t do damage.

There are other healthy trees on our property. We have a giant white pine inside the fence in our backyard (see photos below). It is very much alive. The trunk splits into three parts and each part has many branches. When I look up it seems like it touches the sky. In summers past I have spent time floating in our pool admiring its green, soft needles brushing the bright blue sky. That is the tree that, if it came down in the wrong direction, could do major harm to our house. I love that tree. In this crazy wind, I fear it. I don’t think it is at risk of falling, it looks vibrant and healthy, but you never know. Right now, I have plenty of time to imagine the worst. I watch it suspiciously, looking for hints it might betray us.

Views of our giant white pine on this gray rainy day (4/27)

That appears to be my mood right now; unsettled, uneasy as the air outside. Everything is moving, clouds scudding, spring flowers bowing to the stiff breeze, bushes swaying, the wind chime ringing insistently. Everything is shifting, outside of my control, while I sit at my kitchen counter waiting for calm.

P.S. After several days of wind, it finally subsided. With it my sense of unease lessened too. I was able to get out and take my walks without worrying about flying objects. Even though the post above doesn’t reflect my mood today, I thought it was worth sharing as a glimpse of the ups and downs of this quarantine period. Anxiety, when it comes, seems to be heightened. From what I read and see on social media, I may not be alone in experiencing that. As the coronavirus crisis subsides, hopefully our collective anxiety will too.

I Am Angry

I am angry. I need to say it.

As I think about it, I am angry on a number of levels. First and foremost, I am furious at our president. Though I recognize that he is not responsible for the virus, he is exactly the wrong person to be leading us through this crisis. Let me count the ways:

  1. He is impulsive. Not a good quality in a crisis.
  2. He is unwilling to follow the experts or the data or the science. When asked what metrics he would use to decide when to open the economy, he pointed to his temple – his head!!! “It’s all in here,” he said. I can only shake mine.
  3. He is vindictive. He doles out aid and supplies to his political allies, or those who pay him compliments. I give Andrew Cuomo credit for being able to play that game – at least to some extent. It must be infuriating to deal with someone so juvenile and thin-skinned.
  4. He is a terrible role-model in every sense – from not following the CDC’s advice in his behavior and actions, to his shameless lying. I listened to his first major press conference where he announced that there would be a nationwide website we could consult to find out where to get tested; and that testing sites would be set up in parking lots of Wal-Mart and Target. All of that sounded good – and presidential. I was pleasantly surprised. Sadly, it was all lies; or if not outright lies, he was willfully misleading us.
  5. He never acknowledges when he is wrong or apologizes for lying or saying hurtful, insulting things.

I could go on and on, but I won’t.

I am angry that 43% of Americans still seem to approve of his performance.

I am angry that he will likely not be held accountable for any of this. His unwillingness to acknowledge the potential for pandemic months ago cost thousands of lives. I know others share responsibility, but he is the president! And, despite all of this, he could still be re-elected!

I am angry that he and his administration have rewritten the role of the federal government  – and the Republican party has stood by and watched (or tacitly supported it). The federal government is there to take on problems that extend beyond states’ borders. We can argue about when that comes into play, and we can differ on any number of policies. But, how is this virus different than an attack from a foreign enemy? A pandemic is a threat to our national security and safety. How can it be left to individual states to manage? The virus does not recognize state borders. It also pits states against each other. What is the point of being the United States of America if this is how we are going to operate?

I am angry because I feel powerless. I know the strategies one should employ when feeling powerless, but they are inadequate right now. And, given that I am hunkered down in my house, there are limitations.

I am angry because I have few useful skills for this situation. I don’t know how to sew so I can’t make masks. I don’t have the patience for sewing, knitting or crocheting, and I don’t own a sewing machine, so watching YouTube videos isn’t an option. I don’t have a factory that I can repurpose. I have no health care training. I wonder: what can I contribute? I am trying to be a good citizen by staying home.

I am also angry at myself because I realize that I have been selfish. Though I have been in mourning since Trump was elected, I have largely gone about my life, allowing the injustices that have been perpetrated (the separation of families at the border, the widening gap between the haves and have-nots, the treatment of immigrants generally, the increased threats to our environment, etc.) to pile up, but then roll off me. Maybe it was a matter of self-preservation, letting things go that you feel you can’t change. But now, with CoVid-19, even I can’t escape it. My privilege doesn’t protect me. It makes life easier – my quarantine is way more comfortable than most – but my life has been upended and I worry about family and friends being safe, healthy and able to withstand the economic impact of this calamity. Only now is my anger stirred to this level. How selfish is that?

It’s a lot of anger to be carrying around. I know the drill – do the things I can. Do good deeds for others. Focus on constructive actions – take care of my health, eat well, exercise. Stay connected to the people I love. Look to the helpers for inspiration, and there are many. There are many people stepping up to do good things (I love John Krasinski’s videos), courageous things (going to work at the risk of getting ill is courageous). All of that helps to quell the anger, until it boils up again and I need to vent. Thanks for listening.

A March to Remember

A March to remember.  What a strange month. On March 7th Governor Cuomo issued an executive order declaring a state of emergency here in New York due to the coronavirus. That same day was our last foray out – I wrote about our trip to Dia here. That was our last dinner at a restaurant. It was an excellent dinner, a nice memory, with friends, in person! Three weeks ago. It feels like a lifetime.

I have to admit I find myself struggling. But I am fighting it. Here are some things I find helpful:

  • Putting on music while I do chores. Somehow, I was not in the habit of doing that. It is motivating and I am rediscovering artists I haven’t listened to in a while. I have a new appreciation for Paul Simon’s American Tune. Give it a listen, it is quite timely.
  • Skipping articles that detail the horrors faced by medical staff in New York City hospitals. I see the headlines and my stomach knots. I don’t need to read more.
  • Making a plan for the day so that I know what tasks I will accomplish. I don’t always accomplish them, but just making the list helps my spirits.
  • Setting aside time to get outside – even if the weather is bad. Fresh air helps. I walked in the drizzle on Saturday and Sunday; I didn’t mind it at all.
  • Looking at photographs of my granddaughter – guaranteed to make me smile. Sometimes I text my son and daughter-in-law to request a new one. They have been great about accommodating me. Photographs of my granddaughter probably won’t do it for you, but something will – your child or pet or beautiful scenery.
  • Reaching out via text or phone to folks. This is harder for me than it should be. It always has been, I didn’t realize how well practiced I am at social distancing until now. I am working at doing more reaching out. I always feel better after I do it, but I have to psyche myself to take the first step. This does not apply to my immediate family – I would reach out to my kids hourly if that was acceptable.

Which brings me to something that I’ve been thinking about. It has been three weeks of this version of social distancing, which is far more extreme than my usual practice. Under normal circumstances it isn’t uncommon for me to go three weeks without seeing my children in person. My daughter lives in Somerville, MA; my son in Norwalk, CT. But knowing I can’t hop in the car to see them, and not knowing when I will be able to, changes things. I feel frustrated. We have been using FaceTime, but it isn’t the same. I want to be in the same room. I want to hug them. Maybe it is like forbidden fruit – when you know you can’t have something (someone), you want it more. I know our reunion will be especially sweet and that thought sustains me – sometimes. Sometimes I’m just angry and feel deprived.

Back to helpful things:

  • Switching up meals or trying to be a bit creative about them. On Friday evening, Gary made a fire in our chiminea in the backyard and we ate our dinner next to it. It was a beautiful night, cool, with a bit of a breeze; perfect for sitting next to the warmth of the fire. We watched the sparks leap up against the night sky and eventually the stars came out. Our use of the chiminea has been limited to when we entertain in the summer. Seems silly not to make use of it now.
  • Playing ping pong (insert any other game you have forsaken, i.e. backgammon? chess?). We have a ping pong table in our basement. I don’t remember the last time we used it – stuff was piled on it, as was a thick layer of dust. Gary and I have a history with ping pong. When we were in college, at the beginning of our courtship, we would go to the library tower to study. After maybe an hour we would take a break and head to the student union. We’d play ping pong and get a snack. We spent far more time chatting, playing ping pong and snacking than studying. Fast forward forty years. We found the paddles and a ball in our basement and dusted off the table. Gary thoroughly schooled me, which wasn’t surprising, but we had fun. We played about six games. I got less rusty as we played. Maybe by the end of this ordeal, I’ll give him a run for his money.
  • Watching Governor Cuomo’s daily press conference. Though the information may be grim, it is presented in a straightforward way and he reminds us of all the steps being taken to fight the pandemic. And, who knew he could be so empathetic? He shares his humanity. It’s interesting how this is a case where a person has stepped up to meet the challenge. I was not a fan of his strong-arm political tactics or his personality, but I think his strengths are particularly useful (decisiveness, attention to detail, organized, no nonsense) in this context. And, either he was more compassionate than I understood, or he has matured into that role. Either way, I am grateful. His policies are also shaped by the right values – people come first.
  • Avoid all coverage of the president – this is essential for my mental health.

There you have it. Ten helpful things – for me, anyway. Maybe some will work for you. I would love to hear yours! As this drags on, the more ideas the better; the more tools to call upon to get through this uncertain time.

One final thought: In re-reading this, I realize that I am quite lucky to still like my husband! Thank you, Gary!