Pandemic Woes?

            The mayors of the San Francisco Bay Area announced the pandemic shutdown as we were returning from a trip. My initial reaction was shock and confusion. What will be open? What would I be able to do? How will this change the life I’ve created since I retired?

            Now that we’re all these months into the pandemic response, I have to admit that not a lot has changed. I still go hiking three days a week with a friend, with masks and social distancing.

My two book clubs are held via zoom, making it fun to share thoughts.

I belong to two critique groups that help with my writing. We also meet via zoom, so I’m still getting ideas about how to sharpen my stories.

My Red Hat group went into hibernation as we are all in the older population. The last month, however, we’ve figured out that we can bring chairs and lunch, sit six feet apart and keep in touch.

One addition that I hadn’t planned on was all the free interviews with authors! Several bookstores host these events on a regular basis.

Yes, the pandemic has changed my life, but alternative activities and methods have arisen that allow some semblance of normality. That’s what life is all about: adapting to changing circumstances.

More Than Just Surviving

These are trying times. Because of a coronavirus are lives have drastically changed. Workers aren’t working unless they are deemed “essential”. Roads which normally would be congested morning and evening are practically empty. Restaurants aren’t serving unless they can provide to-go meals.

Libraries aren’t open. We can’t go to the gym, theater or conferences. Families can’t see each other and teachers can’t provide one-to-one assistance to their students. Baseball and basketball aren’t happening.

Many parks are closed and those that are open have closed parking lots and imposed restrictions limiting how many people can gather in a given place at the same time.

How do you survive in these changed circumstances?

Technology has become the lifeline for most of us. Virtual meetings, family visits, classrooms, even yoga studios allow us to interact with others. Of course there’s the phone, but it can’t take the place of seeing a loved one’s face or interacting with cherished friends.

Because we are curious about when life can return to normal we feast on the news. We find ourselves spending too much time online, reading reports and studying statistics hoping to see the light at the end.

There are days when circumstances seem to be changing. We smile more, laugh more, feel lighter and brighter and happier overall. Then we hear of a new outbreak and we sink back into that dark hole.

We forget that there are things we can still do. If we have yards, we can go outside. Live in an apartment building? Go up on the roof. We can don masks and walk around the block, making sure to maintain social distancing when we encounter others.

We can still barbeque and sit on balconies or decks if we have them. We can listen to music and read good books. We can watch documentaries on television and play board games with those in our homes.

If we’re crafty, we can make something. Paint, knit, crochet, sew, build. Cut, fold, stamp.

If we have the physical ability we can tackle home-cleaning tasks that we’ve put off for years. The stuff in the garage might not be needed anymore. The garden that we’ve neglected now needs plants that can provide food as well as beauty. Clean windows, showers and tubs. Polish the wood floor and wipe down blinds.

When we’re feeling sad we can do something uplifting. Bake cookies to nourish, sew masks to give away, connect via email, phone or internet.

We have to change our mindset. Instead of dwelling on what we can’t do, think of all the blessings we’ve been given. Instead of moping about, rejoice in another day of life. Instead of carrying sorrow on our shoulders, find reasons to rejoice.

Things may not be wonderful right now, but an end will come. When it does, let’s not look back on these times with regret for what we didn’t do, but instead on all the things we did.

That’s the attitude needed to survive. We can do this. We can choose to walk alone or we can use what tools we have to pull others into our circle. We are children of survivors. We are survivors.

 

Seek Change

I’m tired, so tired of:

persistent whiners,

constant complainers,

nay Sayers, and

ne’er-do-wells

who get their jollies

by belittling others

as playground bullies.

 

I’m tired, so tired of:

lazy nonperformers,

excuse finders,

procrastinators and

incompetents

who destroy the efforts

of hard-working people

through gross manipulation.

 

I’m tired, so tired of:

jealous intellects,

devilish reviewers,

self-protective chumps,

and feeling-bashers

who denigrate works

to bolster their own

feelings of competence.

 

Instead of finding fault,

look for joy.

Instead of whining,

seek peace.

Instead of creating havoc,

settle the inner voice.

 

Instead of destroying dreams,

offer solace through

kind words,

constructive criticism

designed to improve

rather than ruin.

 

For everyone thrives

when voices of hope

fill the earth.

And then I’ll no longer

be tired.

Resurrection

Papers, lifted by a gutsy breeze

Flapped about like feeble gulls’ wings,

Until, at last, their drunken flight ceased

Abruptly, like puppets on strings.

 

Through open window they had fallen

Landed in a puddle quite deep.

Now the spell of written words broken

Quietly, they drifted to sleep/

 

Letters danced in the mind’s ballroom

Exposing every faux pas.

Signal fires of humanity’s doom

Unwoven, like arrows of straw.

 

Windows blackened shatter by gunfire

Pain inflicted on those who dream

Forgotten the words to inspire

Leaving behind a crooked seam.

 

Until one morning with the sunrise

Rays impaled the heart of the mess

Erased and cleansed, papers did arise

United, with tuneful address.

Soared again with joyful abandon

Like children enjoying their play.

Through window papers excitedly spun

Yesterday’s worries away.

 

A Different Kind of Bravery

By nature I am not a brave person. Put me in a room with unfamiliar people and I cannot speak. I want to join in, but can’t find the strength to open my mouth and risk not fitting in.

On top of that I don’t embrace change and am incredibly happy living my life as is.

Yet despite how I am, when I think back over the years, a number of events arise in which I had to fight against my nature and step outside my box.

As a young child I preferred my own company, so going to school for the first time was a frightening experience. Because I was socially awkward my parents found the money to put me in private Kindergarten. I learned a lot of things that set me on the right path academically, but I did interact with others. I spent playground time in the sand box, constructing my imaginary worlds.

Age did not improve my ability to meet new friend, but I did learn how to function within the system. And I did it on my own. No teacher, no school counselor, no administrator helped me negotiate the ins and outs of school. I roamed the playground lost in my own world, circling around and around, spinning stories both fantastical and what would now be called magical realism as they had nothing to do with what was feasible. I knew I was weird, and when you’re weird, you don’t have friends.

I had the grades and a massive scholarship so I was able to go to college, but this required a tremendous amount of bravery as this would be a new experience in a foreign environment. I was terrified. The first months were painful as even my roommate ignored me. But as time passed thanks to people that spoke to me first, I made a few friends.

Finding a job scared me, because as before, it meant entering unfamiliar places, approaching unfamiliar and often cold people, and facing repeated rejection. Once I did get hired, there was the problem of new expectations and jobs that I knew nothing about, which meant asking for help. I asked only when tears filled my eyes, but each time I was successful, my confidence grew.

I would like to think that age has increased confidence, but it hasn’t. What it has given me is the understanding of myself and has given me the ability to move into new situations despite the terror that such things create.

I am blessed with a husband who encourages me to continually step outside my box and go out into the world. Because of him I travel, write, and sing. Because of him I join clubs, go to luncheons and meet up with friends.

Sometimes I wonder how different I might have been if there had been someone like him in my life from the first time I ever left the house as a child. Because of my husband I am learning to be brave.

And because of people I’ve met through conferences, book clubs and the senior center, I prefer the company of others. I am no longer isolated in my head.

That’s a wonderful way to live!