I don't know where this wind comes from, swirling, skirling, bagpiping over the marshland, then bossing about the big trees. Oak branches bounce and dance, wind-wrestled and wild. The tall white lillies, small trumpet-shaped blooms incandescent in the dull evening light, jounce and bow, stirred and restless. Ravens get tossed up, flutter in place, then dive down to safety on branch or power line.
I don't know where this wind comes from, why it scours this flat land, punishing it with a fury meant for someone else, some other target, the way a woman scorned burns all the dishes and never repents.
We don't know where this wind comes from, this crowned virus that burns through the human-scape. righting some ancient wrongs perhaps, settling old scores.
Wednesday, April 29, 2020
April 21, 2020 Dispatches from the Pandemic - How can we re-open the parks?
Pondering the return to what might resemble normal life, because what else can we think about right now? Our brains search for some sort of predictions of the future - we want to be able to land on something. We need to be able to imagine our future.
I'm thinking that here in Northern California, we could start by opening county and municipal parks, local places to help ease the burden of SIP. Devise some system to limit the visitors -- odd numbered license plates on odd numbered days, even numbers on even days, as they did in the days of gas-rationing. Or by location: you can visit parks within your county or city, or within 5 miles or 25 miles of your home - different locales might have different rules. Cops can issue tickets of $1000 to violators when they run the plates. Maybe we can get the DMV revved up to send out special stickers to each county? Or randomized license plate numbers? Run this over a few weeks to see how it works. People have to have some room to roam. And I think they'd be willing to stay local and wear masks and practice physical distancing for the privilege of a long hike. I know I sure would - I crave the vistas of a long hill before me, the feel of waves pounding on the shore, the call of those pesky darn gulls.
Heard some places limit attendance by letting the parking lot fill up - then the next cars have to keep driving, maybe to another park or return home. This doesn't help the small kids in the car, antsy to get out and run. Hmmmm. Another tactic - hiking in one direction on loop trails, so you only have to worry about folks who pass, not oncoming hikers.
But what about the bathroom problem? Even if opened up, will people be too spooked to use the bathroom or porta-potty? Would they decide to go out behind a bush? or sand dune? That sure can't be sanitary. This argues for staying close to home - or wearing adult diapers.
Think about how we can possibly live with this disease for the next year or two, until immunity is built. What safe practices can we build into our lifestyles? What strategies will we employ?
Below the Fold
Drumpgf got his knickers in a twist today because some people want to vote him out of office.
Well, duh, that's how politics works. If he doesn't like the hot water, he better jump out of the pool. Seems like he dropped by the show Morning Joe and heard some "hatred and contempt." If hatred and contempt from a few opponents bother him, then what is he doing in politics? Go back to the business world, where people toady up, if that's what he likes, because if he's in public office, he's gonna be called names and he's gonna have opposition. That is what we do. Really, we don't care if his feelings get hurt. My heart does not bleed one teeny tiny little bit for him. Not even a nanometer.
 |
| Form a hike in February |
Heard some places limit attendance by letting the parking lot fill up - then the next cars have to keep driving, maybe to another park or return home. This doesn't help the small kids in the car, antsy to get out and run. Hmmmm. Another tactic - hiking in one direction on loop trails, so you only have to worry about folks who pass, not oncoming hikers.
But what about the bathroom problem? Even if opened up, will people be too spooked to use the bathroom or porta-potty? Would they decide to go out behind a bush? or sand dune? That sure can't be sanitary. This argues for staying close to home - or wearing adult diapers.
Think about how we can possibly live with this disease for the next year or two, until immunity is built. What safe practices can we build into our lifestyles? What strategies will we employ?
Below the Fold
Drumpgf got his knickers in a twist today because some people want to vote him out of office.
Well, duh, that's how politics works. If he doesn't like the hot water, he better jump out of the pool. Seems like he dropped by the show Morning Joe and heard some "hatred and contempt." If hatred and contempt from a few opponents bother him, then what is he doing in politics? Go back to the business world, where people toady up, if that's what he likes, because if he's in public office, he's gonna be called names and he's gonna have opposition. That is what we do. Really, we don't care if his feelings get hurt. My heart does not bleed one teeny tiny little bit for him. Not even a nanometer.
Tuesday, April 28, 2020
4/20/2020 - Sheltering In Place Chronicles on National Weed Day
4/20 in 2020 is more or less a bust. No big gatherings, no contacts, no contact high. Don't even want to get high. Just want to get Drumpf out of office. True dat.
I can't quite keep up with the pace of this blog, folks, but I'm going to keep trying. I have gotten out of sequence with the days, so please bear with me. I might post a few pages as "Under Construction" so I can maintain the ordering of the posts.
Think it's time to employ the 25th Amendment, don't you? This President has endangered lives and allowed people to die because of his inaction, because he is more concerned about the state of the stock market and being re-elected. (Because once he's out of office - whooie, mamma -- those lawsuits are gonna fall down upon him.)
He's becoming erratic: see his whipsaw behavior around State responsibility for dealing with COVID -19. I mean, check this out:
Why is this not the time to enact the 25th Amendment and get him out of office, so the country can begin to re-assemble, begin to heal? Perhaps because the chaos would be insurmountable in this time of The Virus?
So we must VOTE HIM OUT.
You betcha.
I'm just not so confident that we will last that long at the rate he's going. He is acting more and more erratic and the campaigns haven't even begun yet.
* And yet how many people really showed up to these Liberation Protests? And who were they, exctly? Seems like many of them were organized as groups to participate in this exercise, rather than a true gathering of citizens. Most citizens with a solid understanding of the Germ Theory of Disease ( i.e. almost everyone except Drumpf) support sheltering as long as we can stand it. As Robert Hubbell asserts in his newsletter, there weren't that many Liberationsist, compared to the many more who stayed away, keeping quarantine. And given the contagiousness of the virus, how many of these protesters will be ill in two weeks, how many will need to be hospitalized?
So there is that.
We wish them well, we really do. But I didn't see much in the way of preventative action (masks, distancing) in the few pictures I saw.
p.p.s. will look for the articles to support my points above.
I can't quite keep up with the pace of this blog, folks, but I'm going to keep trying. I have gotten out of sequence with the days, so please bear with me. I might post a few pages as "Under Construction" so I can maintain the ordering of the posts.
Think it's time to employ the 25th Amendment, don't you? This President has endangered lives and allowed people to die because of his inaction, because he is more concerned about the state of the stock market and being re-elected. (Because once he's out of office - whooie, mamma -- those lawsuits are gonna fall down upon him.)
He's becoming erratic: see his whipsaw behavior around State responsibility for dealing with COVID -19. I mean, check this out:
- first, the states must take full responsibility to provide health care, get PPE supplies for their hospitals and devise thier own rules and regs about how to deal with the virus because he and the Republican Federal Gov't weren't taking any responsibility. They weren't going to provide PPE supplies on a national basis (even though that's their job), they couldn't supply tests, they weren't going to enforce a unified policy to defend against the disease. Enacting a full national shut down, due to our lack of testing and preparedness, would have been the only sure way to beat the disease - and he refused to do it. Up to the States, he said.
- Then, two months later, Drumpf insisted he had total authority to force the states to open their economies (which no President can do to a State) by May 1st. Clueless there, and obviously not listening to any advisor.
- When the Governors rightfully refused to budge, he acknowledged the Governors did have the authority over their own states about returning to full economies. Someone must have gotten through to him about the legalities. Wonder how anyone does that?
- Then he publicly urged people in those states to LIBERATE their states* --that is, to actively disobey the laws and regulations of their state and protest in groups for the right to re-start all commerce, to repeal the shut-down orders - in effect, calling for rebellion against a State Government. This is so against US Constitutional law that I can't imagine anyone with a grasp of how our government works is able to keep breakfast down.
Why is this not the time to enact the 25th Amendment and get him out of office, so the country can begin to re-assemble, begin to heal? Perhaps because the chaos would be insurmountable in this time of The Virus?
So we must VOTE HIM OUT.
You betcha.
I'm just not so confident that we will last that long at the rate he's going. He is acting more and more erratic and the campaigns haven't even begun yet.
* And yet how many people really showed up to these Liberation Protests? And who were they, exctly? Seems like many of them were organized as groups to participate in this exercise, rather than a true gathering of citizens. Most citizens with a solid understanding of the Germ Theory of Disease ( i.e. almost everyone except Drumpf) support sheltering as long as we can stand it. As Robert Hubbell asserts in his newsletter, there weren't that many Liberationsist, compared to the many more who stayed away, keeping quarantine. And given the contagiousness of the virus, how many of these protesters will be ill in two weeks, how many will need to be hospitalized?
So there is that.
We wish them well, we really do. But I didn't see much in the way of preventative action (masks, distancing) in the few pictures I saw.
p.p.s. will look for the articles to support my points above.
April 19, 2020 - SIP in Place
Walking a lot this week, trying to get the yayas out, cope with the anxieties of the age. Being cooped up. Not knowing how we will function in a newer world as we wait for the vaccine to be created, treatment to be developed, or for the virus to bloom out of existence. Thinking this one will be around for awhile, with all our sloppy handling of it. Hoping our finances will weather the storm. Ordering everything for delivery that we possibly can. As time goes by, we are sticking closer and closer to home, like agoraphobes. Time to get out the puzzles, card games, Boggle, Bananagrams.
On the Sourdough Front, we had cinnamon rolls fresh outta the oven. Oh my, yes. Thank you, Cory! We will be bakers before the end of this quarantino. There is a certain amount of pleasure on being able to rely on our own resources. Reminds me of the old hippie days. Bake your own bread. Grow your own food. Make your own masks. Share them with friends. Least amount of commerce as possible, certainly no purchase from corporate concerns. Help out your neighbors. The trade economy.
Meanwhile, reading these stories filed from around the world
NYR of Books Journals
April 6 - 12, 2020
Meanwhile, reading these stories filed from around the world
NYR of Books Journals
April 6 - 12, 2020
Saturday, April 25, 2020
April 18 2020 - Dispatches from a Pandemic - Saturday morning: Holding.
Late morning and the birds are quieter now than those first hours of dawn. Still there's the wheeeeep wheeeep from a flurry of finches. And the wheezy high pitched whistles of the wax-wings, like listening to electricity escapoing from wires.
The air is soft and damp, full of impending rain. The sky, the clouds, the rain all feel held back, constrained, the way we feel right now, restrained, contained, quarantined. A lazy wind pushes the pepper tree around, rearranging the drooping branches, heavy with pepper berries. A mockingbird flutters out of the pepper tree down to the half-full bird bath and then back up to the fence, to hop along his personal train track.
The lilies along the back of the house have white trumpet-shaped blooms perched in rows along a central stem, little handkerchiefs draped along a slanting line. A particularly luminous, white catching and holding light, glowing even against the grey-white of the low slung sky. Tiny stamens drip with faintly yellow pollen and the pistil looks like a three-pronged fishhook of some kind emerging up out of the middle, the prongs tipping back in elaborate curls The fragrance is faint, at least to me, a hint of citrus, a touch of ginger.
The pollen, of course, makes me cough, makes me sneeze. And no one wants to be coughing these days. We hold back from coughs, we refrain from sneezes, not wanting to think of consequences, the train of possibilities, no matter how far-fetched. Any indication of illness, once brushed aside or ignored - a chill, a hot spell, aches in legs or shoulders - now carry that tiny electrical charge, that tiny bit of what if -- what if this is the first step.
We hold our breath, we hold ourselves, we hold back.
The air is soft and damp, full of impending rain. The sky, the clouds, the rain all feel held back, constrained, the way we feel right now, restrained, contained, quarantined. A lazy wind pushes the pepper tree around, rearranging the drooping branches, heavy with pepper berries. A mockingbird flutters out of the pepper tree down to the half-full bird bath and then back up to the fence, to hop along his personal train track.
The lilies along the back of the house have white trumpet-shaped blooms perched in rows along a central stem, little handkerchiefs draped along a slanting line. A particularly luminous, white catching and holding light, glowing even against the grey-white of the low slung sky. Tiny stamens drip with faintly yellow pollen and the pistil looks like a three-pronged fishhook of some kind emerging up out of the middle, the prongs tipping back in elaborate curls The fragrance is faint, at least to me, a hint of citrus, a touch of ginger.
The pollen, of course, makes me cough, makes me sneeze. And no one wants to be coughing these days. We hold back from coughs, we refrain from sneezes, not wanting to think of consequences, the train of possibilities, no matter how far-fetched. Any indication of illness, once brushed aside or ignored - a chill, a hot spell, aches in legs or shoulders - now carry that tiny electrical charge, that tiny bit of what if -- what if this is the first step.
We hold our breath, we hold ourselves, we hold back.
Friday, April 24, 2020
April 24 2020, Friday. Dispatches from the Pandemic - Drinking Bleach (don't do it!) and the USPS (save it !!)
 | |
| SARCASM! DO NOT INGEST BLEACH |
Is he mentally competent? Has he ever taken one science class? I think not. What a freakin' moron. He needs to be held accountable for making insane, dangerous suggestions to a country looking for leadership. Which we won't ever get from him.
You know, a true leader would offer to be the first to try a new cure. Wonder if he will take that challenge?
It is seriously time to question whether Drumpf is mentally competent to stay in office, to be offering advice to the country. I know, I know, it's been obvious for a long time to many of us that his elevator doesn't go to the top floor, doesn't even get to the hem of his bad toupee. But what is going to happen when someone attempts this cure and dies a wretched, mouth-burning, lung-destroying, stomach-churning death? I would hope Trump is brought up on charges for it (murder in my book), for his reckless, irresponsible suggestions. It looks like the disinfectant companies are worried enough about the issue that they are posting disclaimers on store shelves, pushing notices out on Twitter and making their own statements to the press. This is beyond irresponsible behavior by Trump - it is reprehensible. It's not even the sick-joke sarcasm he pretended it to be in today's (Friday's) press conference.
And we're not done yet. Today, Drumpf also called the US Post Office "a joke." I just about drove off the road on my way to mail home-made masks to my friend who works in a hospital in Utah. The US Post Office is a service for all Americans, it was never intended to be a business or make a profit; its a benefit for citizens and businesses. And we need it now more than ever, with all the stuff we have to have mailed to us in the Age of the Coronavirus. Not to mention our need to Vote By Mail later this fall.
Our MOCs need to stand up the Republicans and that bullying Trump and tell them hands off the USPS.
Give me a freakin' freakin' break.
We can't vote this doofus out of office fast enough. Give me Joe Biden any day of the week and twice on Sundays.
Here are some good articles from The Atlantic that talk about the value ( The Quiet Heroism of the USPS ) and history of the USPS ( Why The Postal Service Is Worth Saving). They offer some background to Drumpity's comments and moves today.
Now I'm gonna go order a whole bunch of stamps and start mailing cards to my friends every day. Let's see if we can give some love to the USPS.
- https://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2019/02/what-happens-mail-during-natural-disaster/581794/
- https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/04/why-postal-service-worth-saving/610672/
Thursday, April 23, 2020
April 17, 2020 - Cool Things!
Finding all sorts of neat messages painted on rocks or sprayed on tiles as we walk around the neighborhood. Such wonderful surprises.
Also, rainbows and teddy bears, to inspire the wee ones. I might put up a unicorn or two on our garage door. Why not?
The strategy is to take deep breaths. To feel the earth, to find the joy. To survive the chaos that envelopes the world right now. Take time to enjoy what is right in front of us right now, even the tiniest sliver of it, because we can.
We can't fix everything right now, but we can treasure a blue-painted rock with a funky-faced grin.
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
April 15 2020 - Captain Bligh on the High Seas ~ Journals of the Contagious Times
This is the day this President compares himself to Captain Bligh in Mutiny on the Bounty, stating that he has "total authority" over States' affairs and could order them to open their economies and change their Shelter-in-Place regulations. Ha, ha. Of course, anyone with a Sixth Grade education knows that he can't, that no US President has that authority. States enacted those restrictions and only States can reset them. Obviously Donald "Bligh" Drumpf doesn't know much about the Constitution, doesn't understand it, doesn't even care whether he does or not.
Does anyone else wonder about this reference, though? Does he remember how that movie plays out? It does not end well for sadistic little Captain Bligh. Should we take it as prophecy, that by the end of this, Drumpf, too, will be cast adrift in a tiny little boat on the high seas? We can hope - but we can't take this prophecy on face value; we must act to ensure that Drumpf is cast out of office.
For one thing, we must fight voter suppression by demanding the right to vote by mail in these contagious, courageous times. Text-banking, phone-banking, writing letters to the Editors, supporting our Democrats as they seek election or re-election; all of that helps. Support the ACLU; support the League of Women Voters, join Fair Fight 2020 as they strike back at unjust voter suppression tactics;
And yesterday, hooray, Obama came out for Joe Biden. For those who missed it:
Obama Supports Biden
LET"S GO!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
More info on various voter-suppression actions.
Common Dreams Voter Suppression
Does anyone else wonder about this reference, though? Does he remember how that movie plays out? It does not end well for sadistic little Captain Bligh. Should we take it as prophecy, that by the end of this, Drumpf, too, will be cast adrift in a tiny little boat on the high seas? We can hope - but we can't take this prophecy on face value; we must act to ensure that Drumpf is cast out of office.
For one thing, we must fight voter suppression by demanding the right to vote by mail in these contagious, courageous times. Text-banking, phone-banking, writing letters to the Editors, supporting our Democrats as they seek election or re-election; all of that helps. Support the ACLU; support the League of Women Voters, join Fair Fight 2020 as they strike back at unjust voter suppression tactics;
And yesterday, hooray, Obama came out for Joe Biden. For those who missed it:
Obama Supports Biden
LET"S GO!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
More info on various voter-suppression actions.
Common Dreams Voter Suppression
Sunday, April 19, 2020
Saturday, April 18, 2020
April 13, 2020 - "The Radius Of Love" (w/Amber Gray, Annaleigh Ashford, Norbert Leo Butz,...
Check this out ... and feel free to share. Cracks me up everytime I watch it ~
And yes, some strong language reminding us to stay the eff at home and wash your effing hands.
But oh the tunes!
April 12, 2020 - Easter Under SIP
A mix of weather today, soft breezes and a sun released from clouds and haze. Normally a day for family to gather over a meal and baskets of chocolate. But this year not much going on, with everyone staying in home. Zoom Passovers happened all week, with readings of the Haggadah downloaded and shared via video conferencing, and Zoom Easter get-togethers all weekend, with shared menus, gab-fests, eating of the chocolate bunny-ears.
Around the neighborhood, an Easter Egg hunt was improvised for the wee ones, with quickly painted eggs and cut-out bunnies in front of homes for kids to search for, each family gathered unto themselves in a car or walking in small groups. And while churches had online services and no physical gatherings, it seemed like the pull of family was hard to deny. On my peripatetic stroll in the late afternoon, I noticed two or three houses scattered around that had some extended family over to share chocolate and laughter and, in one case, a small barbacoa. The noise of people chatting and joking was uplifting, even if a bit nervy and risky.
Today, we've finally joined the Sourdough Coalition! We had purchased flour early on but never found yeast, so Cory buckled down and got our starter going about a week ago. The Bay Area is known for its sourdough yeastiness, so I figured we had a decent chance of capturing something tasty. Today, Cory made her first loaf - and we can hardly wait!
Fresh baked bread and lamb curry -- it's gonna make a fine meal and rich memories.
April 10, 2020 - Friday. Long Walk on a Good Enough Friday
 |
| Rabbit Tree on Santa Margarita Island |
We took a long walk over to Santa Margarita Island, a 3-mile round trip from our house, about an hour and a half all told. We walked on sidewalks past gardens just revving up and in streets eerily devoid of cars or trucks or even bikes. The island is more like an islet, not even 1/2 mile around the edge and back. Some big rocks in the middle, a few small oaks, madrone, some low brush, loud bees, busy birds. Grasses and wild flowers wave in the gentle winds that kick up now and again. Low, humid clouds dominate the sky, never letting the sun gain any traction on the day.
The island is fascinating and compact.There are few obvious lounging places until you climb up into the rocks, where there's almost a bower of small trees and rocky seats overlooking the marsh to the north and the creek wandering off to the east. Compared to China Camp with its grassy meadows, steep inclines and stunning bay views or Pt Reyes National Seashore, with all the beach-hikes, mountain-hikes, canyon hikes you could desire, this little County Park islet barely stands out. This whole experience in lock-down living would be very different if we could get out to something like wilderness, get closer to trees and waves and ocean breezes, go wander around the big, charismatic parks.
And yet. There's something to be said for local.
Right here in this little subdivision there are just enough vestiges of the wilder-world, of nature, grass, flowers, insects, ravens, yellow-capped sparrows with their distinctive descending minor-key three notes, towhees chinking away the afternoon, ravens fussing around the bird bath, murmuring and croaking, tall trees rustling in a rising wind measured by the clink of the wind chime, bees wandering in the open window and back out again. We think we have nothing or very little in the way of nature, of walking space, but now that we are forced to look, we find the hidden treasure all around us.
This island is a tiny jewel of grasses and big rocks and small trees, protected from habitation and therefore available to us Isolationists for a chance to look across water, to hear the calls of birds. It is enough - it is more than enough. All without driving and sticking closely to Physical Distancing Guidelines. Mt Tamalpais gives us her stern look through the grey skies; wrens and rails call and scurry through the mud and reeds.
This restriction to quarters has forced us to look and explore more closely to home, the way a kid might, who only had a bike and their sneakers to get themselves around. I want to return to Santa Margarita Island, with my journal, binoculars, some oranges - as good a place as any to sketch and create some verses and live in the outside world. And bask in the moments of joy we are able to wrest amidst the worry, confusion and consternation of the world in a pandemic.
Thursday, April 16, 2020
April 9, 2020 - Thursday; SIP Journals: Farmer's Market Protocal
 |
| Lilies in the slant of the afternoon. |
A grey-skied day this morning; a subdued, quiet focused mood. No music. No gabby gatherings of friends. No one lingering at the little round cafe tables with coffee and a spot of lunch. But still, busy enough. Just.
The market management (AIM) has it down. The aisles between the rows of vendors had been widened considerably, so there was plenty of space for folks to maintain the requested 6-foot margins around themselves. There were marks on the pavement to indicate adequate spacing while waiting in lines or walking around. We wait our turn, scoping out what's available - asparagus, artichokes, avocados, apples. (Isn't alliteration fun?). Then you tell the vendor your choices, they collect it, bag it and hand it to you or place on a package pick-up table. Often you pay a separate person, so the person handling the food isn't handling the cards or the cash. It all feels very clean and contained. Certainly under more control than many grocery stores, where someone could paw over the piles of oranges or mishandle a bunch of grapes and no one would know. And I liked being outside, not in the constricting, narrow little aisles of the local stores.
I'm impressed. It's not the lively scene of the Time Before Covid (TBC) but for being out in society, it feels safe enough. And this is true - we enter grocery stores, public spaces as if they are DMZs, as potentials intersections with an enemy. I'm sure we'll get back to something that resembles normal at some point, but until we have robust testing and medical protection, our actions will always be proscribed and constrained while out in public. Wonder if that will mean a richer interior life, steeped in contemplation and a deeper appreciation for the gifts of being alive? Will it mean more and more of our social and commercial interactions will take place online?
Also, there's a vendor with veggie-starts. Think I'll have to come back next week with the garden in mind.
 |
| Tree -- or Rabbit? Now that is a question. |
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
April 8, 2020 - Weds -SIP Chronicles -Language of Quarantine
This evening, in our Writing Group Zoom-In, we wrote to this prompt: transmission.
You can write one, too.
My response was short, ragged, disjointed. Rambling about the transmission of energy from soil through roots to plant. But I was avoiding. Transmission has become a loaded word now, dripping with the implication of disease jumping from one body to another. We are but transfer points for this virus, transmission joints, in a more medical, scientific parlance, we are known as vectors.
Think of all the terms we have become so familiar with so quickly: isolation, self-isolation, isolate, contact tracing, cordon sanitaire, droplets, aersol-borne. Essential activities, essential workers. Fomites - inanimate objects that transmit disease, not the coronavirus strongest method of attack, but what our constant cleaning (no longer considered OCD) of doorknobs, countertops, packages, bags attempts to defeat. Community transmission. Negative-pressure rooms - not the place you want to spend your last hours on this planet. R0 - reproductive rate. Viral Shedding - what we might be inadvertently doing before any symptoms show.
New terms: quarnatini, quarantime (the inability to determine any particular time of day or week or season while sheltering in place), quarantizzy - what the cat does at the end of the day. Quarantune - songs of the coronavirus. To Zoom. Drive-by birthday parties.
Think of the ordinary words that have acquired newer meanings. Surge. Flatten the Curve. The peak - that rapidly moving target of the height of infections.
Think of the terms we may never forget. First million cases. Antibody tests. Plague. Masks. Pandemic.
First Spring Spent Indoors.
Coronavirus Glossary
You can write one, too.
My response was short, ragged, disjointed. Rambling about the transmission of energy from soil through roots to plant. But I was avoiding. Transmission has become a loaded word now, dripping with the implication of disease jumping from one body to another. We are but transfer points for this virus, transmission joints, in a more medical, scientific parlance, we are known as vectors.
Think of all the terms we have become so familiar with so quickly: isolation, self-isolation, isolate, contact tracing, cordon sanitaire, droplets, aersol-borne. Essential activities, essential workers. Fomites - inanimate objects that transmit disease, not the coronavirus strongest method of attack, but what our constant cleaning (no longer considered OCD) of doorknobs, countertops, packages, bags attempts to defeat. Community transmission. Negative-pressure rooms - not the place you want to spend your last hours on this planet. R0 - reproductive rate. Viral Shedding - what we might be inadvertently doing before any symptoms show.
New terms: quarnatini, quarantime (the inability to determine any particular time of day or week or season while sheltering in place), quarantizzy - what the cat does at the end of the day. Quarantune - songs of the coronavirus. To Zoom. Drive-by birthday parties.
Think of the ordinary words that have acquired newer meanings. Surge. Flatten the Curve. The peak - that rapidly moving target of the height of infections.
Think of the terms we may never forget. First million cases. Antibody tests. Plague. Masks. Pandemic.
First Spring Spent Indoors.
Coronavirus Glossary
Sunday, April 12, 2020
April 7, 2020 - Tuesday - Journals of the SIP - NYR of Books. Three Weeks and A Howling Moon.
Here we are, the end of Week Three. This would have been our day of release from the original SIP orders, but no one much notices, they don't give a fare-thee-well. What we do notice is that we've had some slowdown in the growth of cases in California, even as the nation races towards half-a-million cases of the virus. We've noticed the folks that didn't make it - like the magnificent musicians John Prine, Ellis Marsalis, Bill Withers - and the folks who did, like Dr Matt Willis, Marin County Public health Officer, who was diagnosed with COVID-19 on March 23, just after California's SIP was put in place. After two weeks in bed and full-on quarantine, he released a video today, sharing his experiences with the disease and his gratitude for the care he received, for the organized and supplied emergency room he went to, for the fact that our hospitals in Marin, at this point, are not over-whelmed. He looks -- well, he looks like he went through something, he looks humbled and full of gratitude. Check it out here.
I've also been fascinated by this series of reports, as collected by the New York Review of Books, ThePandemic Journals, first-hand accounts from around the world on the impact of this virus, this new global reality. I can't stop reading them. They are not grim; they are just true.
https://www.nybooks.com/daily/2020/04/06/pandemic-journal-april-6-12/
And boy, howdy, was the moon ever full and the howls loud and vigorous tonight!
I've also been fascinated by this series of reports, as collected by the New York Review of Books, ThePandemic Journals, first-hand accounts from around the world on the impact of this virus, this new global reality. I can't stop reading them. They are not grim; they are just true.
https://www.nybooks.com/daily/2020/04/06/pandemic-journal-april-6-12/
And boy, howdy, was the moon ever full and the howls loud and vigorous tonight!
 |
| A Howling Moon |
Saturday, April 11, 2020
April 6th, 2020 - Dispatches from SIP: Hike Out For Beer
Today we figured no cars, no stores. But we forgot about no beer.
So we decided to walk to the nearest store of any kind, a 7-11, about a mile away and see what that was like. I mean, we could have driven. And a few months ago, I would have refused to walk that far. But I've been clocking a mile or two every day now for awhile -- and so, what the heck. We hiked out for beer.
A low, grey sky, impending rain. It was still damp from the morning's rain. But it wasn't so cold that a jacket, a scarf (that could double as a mask), and some good socks couldn't deal with it. My daughter and I had sturdy canvas bags and plotted the most efficient route through the meandering drives in our neighborhood.
Along the way, I found colors - purple mostly, but yellow too, and pink, the palette of spring and Easter eggs. it became a Color Walk. Try it, it's the most fun - pick a color, take a walk, take notes - and write about it.
So we decided to walk to the nearest store of any kind, a 7-11, about a mile away and see what that was like. I mean, we could have driven. And a few months ago, I would have refused to walk that far. But I've been clocking a mile or two every day now for awhile -- and so, what the heck. We hiked out for beer.
A low, grey sky, impending rain. It was still damp from the morning's rain. But it wasn't so cold that a jacket, a scarf (that could double as a mask), and some good socks couldn't deal with it. My daughter and I had sturdy canvas bags and plotted the most efficient route through the meandering drives in our neighborhood.
Along the way, I found colors - purple mostly, but yellow too, and pink, the palette of spring and Easter eggs. it became a Color Walk. Try it, it's the most fun - pick a color, take a walk, take notes - and write about it.
April 5, 2020 - Dispatches from SIP- Podcast Palace
We're calling ourselves The Podcast Palace around here.
With the end of Week Three of Sheltering In Place closing in, we're resorting to podcasts as a way to create aural and psychic space around ourselves. Not that this is news to anyone in the tech world or those who have already been WFH. But it's a different look for us. All of us have our earbuds in - some with dangling cords, some cordless. Two of us have over-the-ear noise-cancellers, which gives us the look of spaced-out bears. Coming around the corner with a basket of laundry or a clutched notebook, we have more than once scared the bejeesus out each other, all of us similarly and earfully entranced in some other dimension.
The aural pitch of news-talk radio and disaster-TV-news deliberately calibrated to raise our hackles and anxiety drives me batty, the endless repetition of the same words over and over, nothing new and very rarely much hope. Yet. I'm sure the time for hope will come, a time when we will regain something that looks like normal life, a time when we can even envision what that might look like -- but for safety's sake, it's a lot further down the road than the current President pretends it is. I rely on our Governor Newsom for direction - and I will listen to his news briefings, for they are based on facts and figures, on science and safety. Otherwise, podcasts it is. I'll knit, weed, paint, walk, clean -- so much cleaning in this world, right? and listen to stories and songs to get me through time. Yes, you surmised that right, I don't watch much TV news. Virtually none. They lost me when the FCC deregulated tv, allowing news to lose the tenets and ethics of true journalism and become partisan mouth-pieces.
And there are sooooo many good podcasts, enough to fit any mood (sad, anxious, energized, cranky) or need (information, distraction, humor, connection). Here are some that get me going.
I've been listening to Family Secrets, too, by Dani Shapiro. She's been offering bonus episodes, as many podcasts are right now, to handle the issues and the influx of listeners. The April 4th Bonus Episode is an interview with Stephanie Wittles Wachs, creator and host of the podcast of Last Day. They have a wide-ranging discussion on the global trauma we are all facing right now. It is rather mind-boggling to comprehend that everyone in the world is being affected by this virus, to a greater or lesser degree. I mean, everyone. Even though we had World Wars, in which most people were affected - not everyone was. This is truly a global event, affecting all countries, all peoples.
And then Dani Shapiro, in her wisdom, reminds us that, in terms of family, we will never have this time again, when the family unit is so tightly sealed unto itself. Many of us are finding more out about our children and parents that we ever thought possible. We are making meals together, watching shows together (like the old days!) sharing podcasts, things that wouldn't have happened in that other, more regular life when we were all out and about. I find myself telling family stories that I hadn't really shared before, about the 60s, the protests, the riots, the Viet Nam War, the marches. I talk about my mom and her three sisters, born of Finnish immigrants, speaking Finnish as a first language. I try to describe my father, a WWII vet, with untreated, undiagnosed PTSD. Perhaps it's boredom, perhaps it feels essential, perhaps its just what people do when we're hunkered down in our bunkers, seeking to pass the time.
So here is a very partial list of what I've been listening to. All of them can be found wherever you listen to podcasts, so I am not making them all live links.
Hidden Brain by Shankar Vedantam
By The Book with Jolenta Greenberg and Kristen Meizner
Memory Palace by Nick DeMeao - memorable snippets
Happier with Gretchen Rubin and Liz Craft- I love the banter between the sisters, the happiness hacks, the variety of ideas.
The Kitchen Sisters- history-keepers, thoughtful stories, artfully crafted.
Satellite Sisters - wide ranging, poitical and cultural insight, reflection
On Being with Krista Tippet - as thoughtful and insightful as they get
99% Invisible by Roman Mars- design is everywhere.
Anthropocene by John Greene- essays by the earful
Sleep With Me by Drew "Scooter"Ackerman - when I need to sleep, this is the one that does it.
Of course, there are more. Share your favorites in the comments below.
With the end of Week Three of Sheltering In Place closing in, we're resorting to podcasts as a way to create aural and psychic space around ourselves. Not that this is news to anyone in the tech world or those who have already been WFH. But it's a different look for us. All of us have our earbuds in - some with dangling cords, some cordless. Two of us have over-the-ear noise-cancellers, which gives us the look of spaced-out bears. Coming around the corner with a basket of laundry or a clutched notebook, we have more than once scared the bejeesus out each other, all of us similarly and earfully entranced in some other dimension.
The aural pitch of news-talk radio and disaster-TV-news deliberately calibrated to raise our hackles and anxiety drives me batty, the endless repetition of the same words over and over, nothing new and very rarely much hope. Yet. I'm sure the time for hope will come, a time when we will regain something that looks like normal life, a time when we can even envision what that might look like -- but for safety's sake, it's a lot further down the road than the current President pretends it is. I rely on our Governor Newsom for direction - and I will listen to his news briefings, for they are based on facts and figures, on science and safety. Otherwise, podcasts it is. I'll knit, weed, paint, walk, clean -- so much cleaning in this world, right? and listen to stories and songs to get me through time. Yes, you surmised that right, I don't watch much TV news. Virtually none. They lost me when the FCC deregulated tv, allowing news to lose the tenets and ethics of true journalism and become partisan mouth-pieces.
And there are sooooo many good podcasts, enough to fit any mood (sad, anxious, energized, cranky) or need (information, distraction, humor, connection). Here are some that get me going.
- For current affairs, The Daily from the New York Times offers insight about the news that I can handle - most of the time, that is. Or a darn good story, like The Sea Monkey Fortune
- RadioLab is a classic that has accompanied my ears from its days on FM radio, late at night. Now Bob Krolich has retired. Oh my goodness. But the podcast rolls on with some great Dispatches
- Wait Wait Don't Tell Me -- will have you in stitches, even if it is closely tied to current affairs. These are necessary laughs, because without humor, we just might not make it.
- Ologies with Alie Ward pretty much tops my list, though. Her concern for everyone, her genuine enthusiasm for science, her approach of asking "dumb questions of smart people " pulls all of us into the journey of discovery, because don't we all feel dumb about some things? Her episodes about Fearology (April 30, 2018)and Virology (March 9 2020) are not to be missed in the current climate -- but all of them are fascinating, even when you don't think they will be. I mean, who knew I'd get any feels for hagfish (Hagfishology) ? She's my go-to when I feel most fragile.
I've been listening to Family Secrets, too, by Dani Shapiro. She's been offering bonus episodes, as many podcasts are right now, to handle the issues and the influx of listeners. The April 4th Bonus Episode is an interview with Stephanie Wittles Wachs, creator and host of the podcast of Last Day. They have a wide-ranging discussion on the global trauma we are all facing right now. It is rather mind-boggling to comprehend that everyone in the world is being affected by this virus, to a greater or lesser degree. I mean, everyone. Even though we had World Wars, in which most people were affected - not everyone was. This is truly a global event, affecting all countries, all peoples.
And then Dani Shapiro, in her wisdom, reminds us that, in terms of family, we will never have this time again, when the family unit is so tightly sealed unto itself. Many of us are finding more out about our children and parents that we ever thought possible. We are making meals together, watching shows together (like the old days!) sharing podcasts, things that wouldn't have happened in that other, more regular life when we were all out and about. I find myself telling family stories that I hadn't really shared before, about the 60s, the protests, the riots, the Viet Nam War, the marches. I talk about my mom and her three sisters, born of Finnish immigrants, speaking Finnish as a first language. I try to describe my father, a WWII vet, with untreated, undiagnosed PTSD. Perhaps it's boredom, perhaps it feels essential, perhaps its just what people do when we're hunkered down in our bunkers, seeking to pass the time.
So here is a very partial list of what I've been listening to. All of them can be found wherever you listen to podcasts, so I am not making them all live links.
Hidden Brain by Shankar Vedantam
By The Book with Jolenta Greenberg and Kristen Meizner
Memory Palace by Nick DeMeao - memorable snippets
Happier with Gretchen Rubin and Liz Craft- I love the banter between the sisters, the happiness hacks, the variety of ideas.
The Kitchen Sisters- history-keepers, thoughtful stories, artfully crafted.
Satellite Sisters - wide ranging, poitical and cultural insight, reflection
On Being with Krista Tippet - as thoughtful and insightful as they get
99% Invisible by Roman Mars- design is everywhere.
Anthropocene by John Greene- essays by the earful
Sleep With Me by Drew "Scooter"Ackerman - when I need to sleep, this is the one that does it.
Of course, there are more. Share your favorites in the comments below.
Tuesday, April 7, 2020
April 4, 2020 - Saturday Dispatches SIP
I fuss around the side yard today, creating a Kitchen Garden. I want herbs, tomatoes, basil, pomegranates. I listen to Gavin Newsom's press conference as I shift rocks and look for worms in the drizzle; I find it impossible to listen or watch the ones from the White House, so full of misinformation and lies; the bad behavior like a five-year-old bully. A bully who has endangered the lives of all Americans. 
I'm so proud of our Governor Newsom. He installed the lock-down hard and early (March 17) and saved lives; he's even strengthened the orders, as the weeks have gone by, not even promising an end date for them, preferring to gauge the release of SIP on the actual health of the state. Though for sure we're on SIP through April. And into May. Newsom has shared accurate knowledge even if it doesn't reflect well on him and today owned the lack of accurate and fast testing. Though I have to say, testing is something the Federal Government should have been doing right away, early and often. Newsom is acting more like a President than the one who's in the White House right now.
Monday, April 6, 2020
April 2, 2020 - Thursday, Dipatches from the SIP: Paper Rock Scissors
Writing Prompt: Paper Rock Scissors
You never know about chicken; they hide, for one thing. Locking up my neighbor's chicken coop for the night while they are away, I count to be sure they are all inside - first there are 11 and then 13 and then maybe 12? Should be an even dozen of the tawny, red-wattled hens. But they get all bamboozled up, Scissors, as I call one of them, over Rock and Paper behind Scissors and then when I look away, one flutters down from a higher perch and they are cooing and moving their necks and watching my finger as I try to count them and now Paper is over Scissors and Rock has moved behind Eight Ball. Finally, I see how they are all layered and in place and accounted for. Whew. I check the wooden nest-boxes for eggs. I don't want to leave any behind overnight.
So I've been handling unwashed eggs, still warm from the chicken, but salmonella seems like small potatoes now. I know how to deal with it - good strong handwashing, for one thing, antibiotics, for another, should other methods fail. It's this new disease we don't know and the future we can't see that has us tied in knots.
And yet, when could we ever really see the future? No doubt, much of the world will be the same or similar when we return to it - there will still be roads and cars, shops and sales, banks and schools. There will still be work. And gardens. Some things could be very different - more telecommuting might bring about less traffic, cleaner air. We might return to the way olden days of delivery of groceries and eggs and goods, as a habit, if nothing else. But we have to get through this first, subdue and subjugate this new disease that has put a huge dent in our fabric of living, twisted it, rent it, gnawed huge holes in it.
Rock, Paper, Scissors - what solutions will be used to quell Virus? Testing, physical barriers, social distancing - how many times will we go through this routine before a Vaccine puts a hex on this beast? We can't know this now - we'll have to experience it. And take notes.
You never know about chicken; they hide, for one thing. Locking up my neighbor's chicken coop for the night while they are away, I count to be sure they are all inside - first there are 11 and then 13 and then maybe 12? Should be an even dozen of the tawny, red-wattled hens. But they get all bamboozled up, Scissors, as I call one of them, over Rock and Paper behind Scissors and then when I look away, one flutters down from a higher perch and they are cooing and moving their necks and watching my finger as I try to count them and now Paper is over Scissors and Rock has moved behind Eight Ball. Finally, I see how they are all layered and in place and accounted for. Whew. I check the wooden nest-boxes for eggs. I don't want to leave any behind overnight.
So I've been handling unwashed eggs, still warm from the chicken, but salmonella seems like small potatoes now. I know how to deal with it - good strong handwashing, for one thing, antibiotics, for another, should other methods fail. It's this new disease we don't know and the future we can't see that has us tied in knots.
And yet, when could we ever really see the future? No doubt, much of the world will be the same or similar when we return to it - there will still be roads and cars, shops and sales, banks and schools. There will still be work. And gardens. Some things could be very different - more telecommuting might bring about less traffic, cleaner air. We might return to the way olden days of delivery of groceries and eggs and goods, as a habit, if nothing else. But we have to get through this first, subdue and subjugate this new disease that has put a huge dent in our fabric of living, twisted it, rent it, gnawed huge holes in it.
Rock, Paper, Scissors - what solutions will be used to quell Virus? Testing, physical barriers, social distancing - how many times will we go through this routine before a Vaccine puts a hex on this beast? We can't know this now - we'll have to experience it. And take notes.
Sunday, April 5, 2020
April 1, 2020, Weds. No Foolishness Today. Dispatches from SIP, 2020
Yesterday, March 31, was Cesar Chavez Day in California, or in the local parlance of the Rincon Way Ranch, NWFH ~ Not Working From Home Day -
So, of course, we tackled making face masks. Our pattern is rather clunky -- and then we found that working a sewing machine is too close to working a computer; our eyes crossed and our backs gave out. We'll try again. There is such a need for them. This is the Victory Garden Effort of our times. Do you have pattern to recommend? Please post in the comments!
Today, April 1, doesn't feel like much of a joking, foolish kind of day, so I haven't bothered with trying out a prank. I don't think anyone I know has. Even if it might have leavened the mood, things feel far too serious for pranks and light-hearted Tom-foolery.
Instead, I took a socially-distanced walk with an old friend I only just recently re-met. Back in the days of Time Before Coronavirus II (TBCV) walking six-feet apart would have seemed almost Monty Python-esque, like some bizarre challenge: how far can you walk, keeping six-feet apart and still keep a connection going? Turns out, it is quite possible, especially as the connections run deep and the concerns, fears and politics align so well between us.
We met back when our kids shared grades and schools in Petaluma, but we hadn't seen or talked to each other in many years. There was a move to the mid-West for her family and then a return to the Bay Area upon retirement, though not back to Petaluma. And though I knew we were within spitting distance of each other after our move down to Marin, it took a chance encounter on the Hamilton Levee in mid-March for us to fully reconnect. We are both huggers, and while physical contact was already completely verboten at that point, we snuck in one long hug that first meeting, among avid talk between us. We couldn't help ourselves. There was history in the hug and a gladness for renewed friendship.
Today we do keep our distance, offering a wave and a touch to the heart as our greeting and then walking a long 2-mile loop, catching up on each other's lives, our kids, our grandkids. Going over the new rules now - and how devastating it feels not to be in literal touch with the littlest ones. Even though we understand and acknowledge the need for distance, that's one of the hardest to endure.
Then I went home, without sharing coffee or tea or a tour of her new-to-me house, and I kept working on making masks. Here's the NYT article with instructions on making the pleated kind of mask. Think I'll try this one next. I have a friend in Utah who needs them, desperately. Well, I think we will all need them soon enough.
p.p.s. Doctors Plead for PPE
https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/19/us/hospitals-coronavirus-ppe-shortage.html
So, of course, we tackled making face masks. Our pattern is rather clunky -- and then we found that working a sewing machine is too close to working a computer; our eyes crossed and our backs gave out. We'll try again. There is such a need for them. This is the Victory Garden Effort of our times. Do you have pattern to recommend? Please post in the comments!
 |
| Poppies along the levee at Hamilton Field |
Today, April 1, doesn't feel like much of a joking, foolish kind of day, so I haven't bothered with trying out a prank. I don't think anyone I know has. Even if it might have leavened the mood, things feel far too serious for pranks and light-hearted Tom-foolery.
Instead, I took a socially-distanced walk with an old friend I only just recently re-met. Back in the days of Time Before Coronavirus II (TBCV) walking six-feet apart would have seemed almost Monty Python-esque, like some bizarre challenge: how far can you walk, keeping six-feet apart and still keep a connection going? Turns out, it is quite possible, especially as the connections run deep and the concerns, fears and politics align so well between us.
We met back when our kids shared grades and schools in Petaluma, but we hadn't seen or talked to each other in many years. There was a move to the mid-West for her family and then a return to the Bay Area upon retirement, though not back to Petaluma. And though I knew we were within spitting distance of each other after our move down to Marin, it took a chance encounter on the Hamilton Levee in mid-March for us to fully reconnect. We are both huggers, and while physical contact was already completely verboten at that point, we snuck in one long hug that first meeting, among avid talk between us. We couldn't help ourselves. There was history in the hug and a gladness for renewed friendship.
Today we do keep our distance, offering a wave and a touch to the heart as our greeting and then walking a long 2-mile loop, catching up on each other's lives, our kids, our grandkids. Going over the new rules now - and how devastating it feels not to be in literal touch with the littlest ones. Even though we understand and acknowledge the need for distance, that's one of the hardest to endure.
Then I went home, without sharing coffee or tea or a tour of her new-to-me house, and I kept working on making masks. Here's the NYT article with instructions on making the pleated kind of mask. Think I'll try this one next. I have a friend in Utah who needs them, desperately. Well, I think we will all need them soon enough.
p.p.s. Doctors Plead for PPE
https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/19/us/hospitals-coronavirus-ppe-shortage.html
March 31, 2020 - Tuesday. Week Two: Dispatches from SIP. Shoppers report: Costco.
In this Age of Sequestering, we are trying to take turns going out for supplies. With three adults hunkering down at the house, it's not so bad. If each of us goes out once during the week, most of our bases are covered with each person only having to venture into the contact-possible zones once. Anyway, that's the plan.
It was my turn for the big run, so I went to Costco in Novato to stock up for a few weeks. Pretty organized, I thought; it felt fairly secure. The parking lots looked to be about a quarter full. If that. And sure, a goodly line to get in, but everyone was patient, sticking to their square of sidewalk, with one full square between each of us. Therefore, the line was long in term of distance - along the whole huge warehouse, around the corner, past the auto shop and out almost to the back access road - but short in terms of the number of people waiting, maybe 30 to 40 folks standing about 8 feet apart. Plenty of people wearing masks. I felt socially irresponsible, only carrying wipes soaked in rubbing alcohol in one hand which I planned to use to wipe the handle of my cart. However, Costco employees were sanitizing the cart handles as they brought them back from the parking lots.
I jammed the wet, alcohol-fragrant wipe in my pocket. I thanked the young man at the door who was letting us in, ten or fifteen at a time. This made the line jump up quickly ... and then stop for a time, like some sort of erratic conga line.
There was a sign on an easel just inside the door noting what was available and what wasn't. Toilet paper was back in stock, though only one package at a time per customer. No ibuprofen right now, which had been sitting on my list since I learned that was the preferred pain med for the 'Rona. We'll see if we ever get any, as it seems to be out of stock everywhere, online, offline, IRL.
With only 100 shoppers in the cavernous store, customers could easily have an entire wide aisle to themselves. It got tight around the meats and produce and in the frozen foods, but employees with wide white wipes were disinfecting the door handles along one side, then the other. Meanwhile, I was dipping my fingers into the alcohol-soaked wipe dampening my jacket pocket. I made it a point to only pick up what I was going to put in my cart. Which meant I - and everyone, I noticed - stared at things a lot, cocking our heads and necks, squinting to read ingredients written sideways or in tiny print along the bottom.
Coffee (two bags of French Roast, yes!), crackers, sugars, some tri-tip, peanut butter pretzels, frozen fish, Annie's Mac N'Cheese. A few things for our neighbors across the street who shouldn't be going out to stores. Some little potatoes, onions. Rice. But no hands soaps to speak of. Well, perhaps in a few weeks.
Once I got to the check out stations, there wasn't much of a wait to get out. I had to hold my receipt up to be marked as I left the store, but otherwise, I exited with most of what I came for, plus a few extras, which was always the way of that place. And as long as we have coffee, I'm not worried about toilet paper.
And so here, we are, the end of Week Two. We got through it - and we already know we're in it for a much longer haul, until the first week of May, for sure. But personally, I'd rather go long than go short on this particular play.
It was my turn for the big run, so I went to Costco in Novato to stock up for a few weeks. Pretty organized, I thought; it felt fairly secure. The parking lots looked to be about a quarter full. If that. And sure, a goodly line to get in, but everyone was patient, sticking to their square of sidewalk, with one full square between each of us. Therefore, the line was long in term of distance - along the whole huge warehouse, around the corner, past the auto shop and out almost to the back access road - but short in terms of the number of people waiting, maybe 30 to 40 folks standing about 8 feet apart. Plenty of people wearing masks. I felt socially irresponsible, only carrying wipes soaked in rubbing alcohol in one hand which I planned to use to wipe the handle of my cart. However, Costco employees were sanitizing the cart handles as they brought them back from the parking lots.
I jammed the wet, alcohol-fragrant wipe in my pocket. I thanked the young man at the door who was letting us in, ten or fifteen at a time. This made the line jump up quickly ... and then stop for a time, like some sort of erratic conga line.
There was a sign on an easel just inside the door noting what was available and what wasn't. Toilet paper was back in stock, though only one package at a time per customer. No ibuprofen right now, which had been sitting on my list since I learned that was the preferred pain med for the 'Rona. We'll see if we ever get any, as it seems to be out of stock everywhere, online, offline, IRL.
With only 100 shoppers in the cavernous store, customers could easily have an entire wide aisle to themselves. It got tight around the meats and produce and in the frozen foods, but employees with wide white wipes were disinfecting the door handles along one side, then the other. Meanwhile, I was dipping my fingers into the alcohol-soaked wipe dampening my jacket pocket. I made it a point to only pick up what I was going to put in my cart. Which meant I - and everyone, I noticed - stared at things a lot, cocking our heads and necks, squinting to read ingredients written sideways or in tiny print along the bottom.
Coffee (two bags of French Roast, yes!), crackers, sugars, some tri-tip, peanut butter pretzels, frozen fish, Annie's Mac N'Cheese. A few things for our neighbors across the street who shouldn't be going out to stores. Some little potatoes, onions. Rice. But no hands soaps to speak of. Well, perhaps in a few weeks.
Once I got to the check out stations, there wasn't much of a wait to get out. I had to hold my receipt up to be marked as I left the store, but otherwise, I exited with most of what I came for, plus a few extras, which was always the way of that place. And as long as we have coffee, I'm not worried about toilet paper.
And so here, we are, the end of Week Two. We got through it - and we already know we're in it for a much longer haul, until the first week of May, for sure. But personally, I'd rather go long than go short on this particular play.
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
March 28 2020 SIP Journal: "Try Eye Hugs" from Molly Wertz
'Round about the first week of SIP, perhaps even the first day, when we were all getting used to the funny rules of social distancing for virus protection, my friend Molly Wertz came by for a walk around the marsh trail just down the road from my house. I think we were mostly 6 feet apart, but these were early days and we had to practice. We talked of many things, of walruses and kings, of our children who had grown up around each other, and our grandchildren, who sometimes see each other; we mulled over how to hold each other without touching, of elbow bumps, hip-bumps, footsie-bumps. Then she went out to Forestville and wrote this piece about eye hugs, which ran that weekend in the Press Democrat. Check it out; it's a lovely piece! To Stay Connected, Try Eye Hugs
https://www.pressdemocrat.com/opinion/10837506-181/close-to-home-to-stay
https://www.pressdemocrat.com/opinion/10837506-181/close-to-home-to-stay
Monday, March 30, 2020 - Community Howl, 8 p.m. - Dispatches from SIP -
Tonight, at 8 p.m. sharp, the three us stepped outside the house and the howls, yips and yodels were already echoing against the hill on the far side of North San Pedro Road. We lifted our faces, framed our voices with our hands and joined in for two minutes of unabashed wolf-style howling. It was thrilling, uplifiting, a communal rebuke against the physical restraints we all must operate under these days if we are to slow the transmission of COVID-19. A primal yowling, a release of anxiety. We heard yippers, we heard long involved rolling ar-hooooooos! but all were expressions of gratitude and support for the nurses (some who live on our street) and doctors and sonographers and EMTs and the myriad of medical personnel risking their lives so that we can survive the pandemic. And isn't that the very definition of a soldier?
Our medical folks are on the front lines, exposed to this relentless enemy in countless, unending ways. They have been left unprotected and unsupported, dangling in the wind, through the mismanagement of the pandemic crises from the very start by Drumpf and his Republican henchmen (you can read most of the sordid details here) - most certainly many of our valiant Soldiers of Medicine will die in this fight. Yet they return to the fray, even if exhausted, sick, missing their families, leaving a sick loved one at home to fight the illness alone. Heroes, all.
And so we take the cue from Italy and Spain and France, where the sequestered citizens step outside at 8 p.m. every night and applaud their health care workers. It's the least we can do -- though of course, we've added some unique twists to the practice. Howling like wolves - it seems appropriate in this land of Jack London and The Call of the Wild, in this territory where coyotes are snooping around our spaces. Wonder what the coyotes think of this Community Howl? Have the Humans gone mad, lost their collective minds?
Or maybe, we are finally getting it, that the community that howls together, stays together, through thick and thin, in sickness and in health..
Our medical folks are on the front lines, exposed to this relentless enemy in countless, unending ways. They have been left unprotected and unsupported, dangling in the wind, through the mismanagement of the pandemic crises from the very start by Drumpf and his Republican henchmen (you can read most of the sordid details here) - most certainly many of our valiant Soldiers of Medicine will die in this fight. Yet they return to the fray, even if exhausted, sick, missing their families, leaving a sick loved one at home to fight the illness alone. Heroes, all.
And so we take the cue from Italy and Spain and France, where the sequestered citizens step outside at 8 p.m. every night and applaud their health care workers. It's the least we can do -- though of course, we've added some unique twists to the practice. Howling like wolves - it seems appropriate in this land of Jack London and The Call of the Wild, in this territory where coyotes are snooping around our spaces. Wonder what the coyotes think of this Community Howl? Have the Humans gone mad, lost their collective minds?
Or maybe, we are finally getting it, that the community that howls together, stays together, through thick and thin, in sickness and in health..
March 29, 2020 - Sunday. The Four (Five?) Things That Fall from the Sky.
A mixed-bag Sunday - some clouds, some sun, some rain. Two newspapers grace the table, replete with articles about the rise of the virus, the state of the nation, the condition of the world. But I am compelled to dig, to plant, to consider what sunlight, dirt, wind would mean to a lilac tree, to irises, to blue-flowered penstamen, to the small grasses I'd gaffled from our house on B Street just before we moved, pulling them from the soil, hey babes, you're coming with us.It takes time and study to learn how the elements play out across a new lot, how the geometry and vectors of the house interfere with the four things that come down from the sky - sunlight, rain, fog, snow (not so much snow around here, I must admit). Oobleck is that fifth option, submitted for our approval by Dr Suess. I try to read where the wind plays and dallies, where the sun might break through the future foliage of the mulberry tree, as gauged from the just leafing-out buds. These are landfill lots, thin topsoil sitting on yellow-brown clay and lots of infill-rocks. It takes a lot of amending to provide beds amenable to roots. If we had to survive on what we could grow out of our plot this year, it would not be pretty.
So I concentrate on flowers for now, deploying them like little thin miners to tunnel through mixture of rocks and the dense, gluey clay-stuff. This is not rich adobe clay, so dark, almost black, with nutrients. This clay is anemic, pale, almost yellowish-brown, old dried up oobleck perhaps, a continuous layer that seals up against water and rots the roots. One must dig through this layer, down into the old marsh below or build up, with raised beds or mounding habitats.
And so through the sweeping waves of sun and rain-drizzle and cloud-shadow, I dig and plant, convincing myself of a summer and a fall that will arrive. Yes, indeed, it will. But first we must get through all of this. And we can only do that together.
Saturday, March 28, 2020
March 27, 2020 Friday - Dispatches from SIP- Poppies On The Hill
A walk to the top of a local hill - because we're not driving too far out of our area for our walkies - brought us brilliant orange poppies against a chilly blue spring sky.We're lucky to have Governor Gavin Newsom going to bat for us citizens in the State of California.
We're facing a major change in the way we will conduct our lives going forward, both in the short and long term. But we can do it; it will happen. It is happening
In fact, there is little choice here. We can deal with it well or badly, but we deal with it we must. Until we have the vaccines or other tools to control the virus, we will continue live our life in its shadow, adjusting protocols to minimize transmission.
When the big picture gets overwhelming, focus on the small. The poppies on the hill are doing that for us quite well today.
Friday, March 27, 2020
March 26, 2020 - Dispatches from SIP
Today the US became the country with the most cases of COVID-19 in the world, 85,000+. And we aren't even testing everyone.
So, yeah, guess this will easily be over by Apr 12.
Not.
Today, we placed first
In COVID-19 cases
Nothing to celebrate
So, yeah, guess this will easily be over by Apr 12.
Not.
Today, we placed first
In COVID-19 cases
Nothing to celebrate
Wednesday, March 25, 2020
March 25, 2020 Dispatches from SIP - ZoomTime!
Seems like we are all Zoming now (video conferencing, that is) - Zoom Yoga, Zoom Poetry Readings, Zoom Koffee Klatches, Zoom Activism, Zoom Writing and Painting and Parenting and Family Gatherings -- it's all there, somewhere. I could probably be in two or three Zoom sessions a day, if I didn't insist on gardening. We might be maintaining social distance, as in the photo below of a once bustling and busy walking spot in Marin, but we are connecting more than ever. At least digitally.
My friends Micki and Julie have decided to use the term "physical distancing" rather than "social distancing" because their social calendars are all filled up, leaving just enough time between sessions for a snack break or a walk around the block. Or a tussle with the dog. "Social distancing" sounds so bleak and depressing as if we've been ostracized in that medieval kind of way. But really, it's the physical distance that's so necessary - that 6 precious feet of protection that the virus can't jump so well. Isolation is so difficult, it feels like punishment because we crave social closeness, the hand clasp, the touch on the shoulder, the ability to see faces, especially, to look into people's eyes. We glean a highly nuanced secondary communication from faces, absorbing information unconsciously and this makes video conferencing feel like a fuller communication.
Zooming onward, forward, together.
My friends Micki and Julie have decided to use the term "physical distancing" rather than "social distancing" because their social calendars are all filled up, leaving just enough time between sessions for a snack break or a walk around the block. Or a tussle with the dog. "Social distancing" sounds so bleak and depressing as if we've been ostracized in that medieval kind of way. But really, it's the physical distance that's so necessary - that 6 precious feet of protection that the virus can't jump so well. Isolation is so difficult, it feels like punishment because we crave social closeness, the hand clasp, the touch on the shoulder, the ability to see faces, especially, to look into people's eyes. We glean a highly nuanced secondary communication from faces, absorbing information unconsciously and this makes video conferencing feel like a fuller communication.
Zooming onward, forward, together.
 |
| A friendly cormorant by the Civic Center Lagoon |
 | ||||
| A socially distant Marin Civic Center Lagoon |
Tuesday, March 24, 2020
March 24,Dispatches from SIP, First Week: A Fugitive Spring:
In an odd fugitive spring, an odd, topsy-turvey kind of day with rain and sun in almost equal measure. It's been a full week of Shelter in Place. We have hunkered down. We have ordered groceries and supplies online. We've gone out to storea as infrequently as possible. We are stocking up on basics - flour, rice, sugar, coffee, beer. We make dinner every night and eat it together, because, well, what else do we have to do? Who else do we have to see?
This was a day of two walks out on the marsh, one in the morning wet and windy, the other in the evening with high puffy clouds, deep bright slant of sun and only a touch of rain. We live out in an odd corner of the
world, a kind of a backwater, a bit
forgotten, without much foot traffic or visitors. We had only just moved here about six months ago, not long before the fires and outages that ravaged Northern California again. Although I miss my old town of Petaluma dearly, I now appreciate this sense of distance, tucked out at the end of East San Rafael. While we have plenty of neighbors and most are around for most of the day, we sure do keep our physical distance.I think about the kids, no longer in daycare, no longer in school, no longer going through the dance of socialization, of friendship, of physical playtime together. What is this like for a four-year-old, a five -year-old?
It reminds me of those summers when I was four and five and polio was alive in the world. There was a kind of terror that underlay almost any sickness. Especially in the summer. One girl in my kindergarten class wore braces as a result of polio; those of us sitting by her would loosen and tighten the little wing nuts by her knees that allowed her to sit or stand. Spasms would rocket through her legs sometimes and she'd claw at the braces, in tears. She was only five, too.
I remember the delirious freedom associated with the polio vaccine. It wasn't just the sugar cubes it was administered with. It was being able to swim again in the ponds and streams, because the bacterium was most often contracted in water. My mother was in tears, bowing in gratitude for the scientists who had worked so hard to find this cure; we had escaped, we were protected, we would live.
It was reported today that it had taken 67 days to reach 100,000 cases of COVID-19 in the world - and only 4 days to go from 200,000 to 300,000 cases. Not all, of course, are deadly, and for sure not all have been counted. By tomorrow morning, March 25, we will have surpassed 400,000 cases*, present in 175 out 195 countries. By April 1, I imagine we'll have racked up a million cases world wide. And this President seems to think we should all get back to work in early April, because, you know, the economy sucks and business is flagging. Never mind that every advisor with a medical background or brains in their head has told him that relaxing our safeguards now would allow the virus to run wild and ransack the population. That in fact, our economy would suffer far more in the long run, taking even longer to recover.
All this President can think about is getting re-elected. The loss of civilian lives in this war against the virus is just collateral damage to him. If he pursues this plan of action, we will have an even longer and more protracted slow-down of the economy as communities sicken and collapse, as hospitals fail to keep up with the onslaught of the desperately sick.
If he pursues this plan of action, I think it behooves the legislators in Washington to enact The 25th Amendment and remove him from office for recklessly endangering the lives of the citizens of this country. For willfully and recklessly endangering the lives of doctors and nurses fighting this pandemic when he refused to take this seriously when he was first informed about it in January. For causing deaths of civilians by thoughtlessly promoting cures that don't work and dismissing practices that do in his woefully ignorant tweeting, his reckless, rambling press meetings full of misinformation and downright lies.
Personally, I wonder if he has lost his mind.
Meanwhile, we take our walks, we relish our meals, we crack bad jokes. Because we can. For now.
*UPDATE: Global numbers for reported number of cases of COVID-19 surpassed 400,000 before midnight of March 24th.
Monday, March 23, 2020
Disaptches from Sheltering in Place - Monday, March 23, 2020
Today was kind of a cranky day - thick moist clouds hovered low overhead, reinforcing a damp, cloistered mood. Comments that might have glanced off our thicker skins last week got under the surface today. The sense that this will last longer than our longest vacation is beginning to sink into our skins; in fact, this whole exercise in physical and social restraint could last longer than some jobs I've had.
When things get thick, I go out an dig. A spade, a trowel, a fork, anything that will go into the skin of the earth and release its gold, its funk, its mysterious magic. I want to feel and smell the richness life still has to offer - thin white mycellium, thick dark roots, worms transforming pallid land-fill clay to dark, airy loam.
And today, to honor the spring that is marching forward right under our noses, the first rose.
When things get thick, I go out an dig. A spade, a trowel, a fork, anything that will go into the skin of the earth and release its gold, its funk, its mysterious magic. I want to feel and smell the richness life still has to offer - thin white mycellium, thick dark roots, worms transforming pallid land-fill clay to dark, airy loam.
And today, to honor the spring that is marching forward right under our noses, the first rose.
Dispatches from the Time of CoronaVirus - Sunday, March 22nd
We had planned to go visit the Morgan Horse Stables out at the Point Reyes National Seashore Visitor Center with our little horse-focused granddaughter. I figured it was a good excursion that would keep us entertained and provide some fresh air and exercise, while allowing for plenty of room around us, so no one would trample on another's personal social-distance space.
But so many people had thronged out to the coast on Saturday, so sunny, so bright, that authorities shut the whole PRNS down. The little towns out there, Inverness and Bodega and Bolinas and Pt Reyes Station, felt invaded and over-run, as if it were summer. But a summer with a lot of cooties. A lot of dangerous cooties.
But who can blame anyone? Cooped up for a week in a house or an apartment, with pathways carved into the rugs by pacing, the coast is an enticing backyard for the entire Bay Area. Now the road out to Limantour is blocked. It feels like another gate has been slammed shut and the fences are closing in.
Here are two articles that reflect our state of affairs. This is not an exhaustive review, just a snapshot in The Time of Coronavirus.
Best of Virus, Worst of Virus
Larry Brilliant
But so many people had thronged out to the coast on Saturday, so sunny, so bright, that authorities shut the whole PRNS down. The little towns out there, Inverness and Bodega and Bolinas and Pt Reyes Station, felt invaded and over-run, as if it were summer. But a summer with a lot of cooties. A lot of dangerous cooties.
But who can blame anyone? Cooped up for a week in a house or an apartment, with pathways carved into the rugs by pacing, the coast is an enticing backyard for the entire Bay Area. Now the road out to Limantour is blocked. It feels like another gate has been slammed shut and the fences are closing in.
Here are two articles that reflect our state of affairs. This is not an exhaustive review, just a snapshot in The Time of Coronavirus.
Best of Virus, Worst of Virus
Larry Brilliant
Sunday, March 22, 2020
March 21, 2020 - Dipatches from SIP - Saturday
It is spring, but it doesn't feel like spring; it feels the soft ground, about to give way, on the crest of the cliff just before the drop. It's been most of a week, everyone staying close to home. We are all on edge and either testy or terrified, in about equal waves. There is no end of gut-twisting news in the media about this invisible yet very tangible enemy that ravages bodies and spirits and businesses and stock markets. And there's all the bluster from the top, trying to overlay their absolute and abject failure to take this seriously from the beginning and thus magnifying the danger to all.
As David Brooks writes in the New York Times: Screw This Virus
Meanwhile, we hang tight. Our granddaughter is here to spend a few nights, while her parents recover from a week of trying to WFH with a four-year-old running about. Daycare, of course, is closed. So this weekend, we get the pleasure of granddaughter time and they will get a much needed, though socially-distanced, walk along the coast.
So of course, we made Unicorn Cookies - from scratch. Now we are almost out of flour -- and so are all the stores around here. And the yeast is gone. Sheesh, everybody's baking!
This afternoon the sun slanted in from the west, backlighting the just-leafed out mulberry tree in our back yard, which had been dropping catkins all week. Sitting on the couch in the living room, just catching our breath, my daughter and I could just see through the big sliding glass door, faint clouds of pollen poofing out from the tree-branches, minute yellowish bursts, like mini-fireworks or elfin cannons of pollen. They weren't being released by the force of the wind knocking the branches about, because there wasn't much wind, and the poofs didn't come all at once, but a burst here, a burst there. Perhaps little capsules were finally ready and warm enough to burst and eject the pollen into the balmy air. Along the top of the fence behind the tree, a mockingbird strutted its stuff, fanning its wings and ducking and dancing. Moments I might have missed, if I weren't sequestered in the house, staying home.
As David Brooks writes in the New York Times: Screw This Virus
Meanwhile, we hang tight. Our granddaughter is here to spend a few nights, while her parents recover from a week of trying to WFH with a four-year-old running about. Daycare, of course, is closed. So this weekend, we get the pleasure of granddaughter time and they will get a much needed, though socially-distanced, walk along the coast.
This afternoon the sun slanted in from the west, backlighting the just-leafed out mulberry tree in our back yard, which had been dropping catkins all week. Sitting on the couch in the living room, just catching our breath, my daughter and I could just see through the big sliding glass door, faint clouds of pollen poofing out from the tree-branches, minute yellowish bursts, like mini-fireworks or elfin cannons of pollen. They weren't being released by the force of the wind knocking the branches about, because there wasn't much wind, and the poofs didn't come all at once, but a burst here, a burst there. Perhaps little capsules were finally ready and warm enough to burst and eject the pollen into the balmy air. Along the top of the fence behind the tree, a mockingbird strutted its stuff, fanning its wings and ducking and dancing. Moments I might have missed, if I weren't sequestered in the house, staying home.
March 20, 2020 Friday - Dipatches from SIP
First Day of Spring, the Equinox.
This may be spring, but it doesn't feel quite like it. The hills are green, yes, and the pear tree has put out its first little leaf and bud. Pears will be in our future. That we can predict.
Nor does it feel equal or stable or balanced. I have a knitting project that I've started at least three times, and ripped out the beginning because it never looks right, its lopsided, its too big, too small. I think this is more about the knitter than the knitting.
The lack of medical supplies and personal protective equipment for medical staff, is to my mind, absolutely criminal. The Federal Government should release whatever stockpiles they have to support the front lines in this battle against the virus.
Can't even tell you how many appeals for face masks I've seen on NextDoor or from personal friends who work in hospitals or offices. It's overwhelming. Anyone who has them leftover from the fires are sending them to the nearest hospitals.
And now here's the idea of DIY sewing masks for our medical workers. Well, it's something I can do. It reminds me of folks in previous wars making bandages for the front line. I think I've found a pattern that looks at least a little bit effective. I've got the cotton and a machine. So off I go. I'll post my results as soon as I get something decent.
This may be spring, but it doesn't feel quite like it. The hills are green, yes, and the pear tree has put out its first little leaf and bud. Pears will be in our future. That we can predict.
Nor does it feel equal or stable or balanced. I have a knitting project that I've started at least three times, and ripped out the beginning because it never looks right, its lopsided, its too big, too small. I think this is more about the knitter than the knitting.
The lack of medical supplies and personal protective equipment for medical staff, is to my mind, absolutely criminal. The Federal Government should release whatever stockpiles they have to support the front lines in this battle against the virus.
Can't even tell you how many appeals for face masks I've seen on NextDoor or from personal friends who work in hospitals or offices. It's overwhelming. Anyone who has them leftover from the fires are sending them to the nearest hospitals.
And now here's the idea of DIY sewing masks for our medical workers. Well, it's something I can do. It reminds me of folks in previous wars making bandages for the front line. I think I've found a pattern that looks at least a little bit effective. I've got the cotton and a machine. So off I go. I'll post my results as soon as I get something decent.
Saturday, March 21, 2020
March 19, 2020 - Thursday- Dispatches from SIP
Today, Governor Newsom orders the entire State of California to Shelter In Place. The Federal Government as run by this President, has dropped the ball and now the States have to pick it up. I am glad Governor Newsom is being fierce about all this. And no, I don't blame government in general, because good, responsible government wouldn't have ignored the warnings, played fast and loose with the citizens lives and let this pandemic get away with this. And so here we are, sitting in limbo, unable to imagine quite what the future will look like.
Jimmy Cliff said it well:
Sitting here in limbo
Waiting for the dice to roll
Sitting here in limbo
Got some time to search my soul
Waiting for the dice to roll
Sitting here in limbo
Got some time to search my soul
Full lyrics here
and YouTube
I can not watch or listen to the news and stay sane, so I try to focus on the small things in front of me. Putting some poppies in the ground, listening to the mockingbirds warble their hearts out, fitting in a walk around the marsh trail again. I'm sure soon enough these things will irritate and grind on me, but for now they suffice. And reggae hits the spot, the right blend of sweet music and Resistance in a big way. Try it.
Learning the Zoom Program today and feeling hopeful that as I contemplate #GarageLife I can invite some friends along with me. Stir it up, indeed!
Friday, March 20, 2020
March 18, 2020 - Dispatches from SIP
Today I would have been prepping for a trip to the foothills of the Sierras, to a retreat to work on my two writing projects. Snow and a warm cabin; this was the generous offer from friends that I had to turn down. Instead, I am sticking close to home and sheltering in place.
Took a walk late in the afternoon as we often do on the marsh trail along the levee near our house, sun muted from heavy clouds, rain seemingly just around the corner. Little egrets fished along the edges, poking long bills into small ponds, shaking long toes to lure fish closer to them. Where we might have seen five or six people at other times jogging or walking their dogs along the levee, today we saw twenty-five or so, all of us keeping our distance. The nice thing? We all say hello or how are you, even as we consciously step away from each other. Perhaps because of these avoidance steps, the greetings might be a way to mitigate what would be seen as rudeness under other circumstances.
From the back yards of the nearby neighborhood houses, come the yells and loud laughter of children, running around, blowing off steam, tossing balls. No school, no after-school activity. Suddenly this place feels more inhabited, more full of life - even if from a six-foot distance.
Because I do want to work on these book projects, I have set up a work space in the garage, where I feel set off even in my isolation. It's a bit rough, but I think it will serve its purpose.
These are unsettled times, and it's difficult to think of near future, the purported end of The Isolations. But we will get there, by hook or by crook, with the help and support of friends and family.
Took a walk late in the afternoon as we often do on the marsh trail along the levee near our house, sun muted from heavy clouds, rain seemingly just around the corner. Little egrets fished along the edges, poking long bills into small ponds, shaking long toes to lure fish closer to them. Where we might have seen five or six people at other times jogging or walking their dogs along the levee, today we saw twenty-five or so, all of us keeping our distance. The nice thing? We all say hello or how are you, even as we consciously step away from each other. Perhaps because of these avoidance steps, the greetings might be a way to mitigate what would be seen as rudeness under other circumstances.
From the back yards of the nearby neighborhood houses, come the yells and loud laughter of children, running around, blowing off steam, tossing balls. No school, no after-school activity. Suddenly this place feels more inhabited, more full of life - even if from a six-foot distance.
These are unsettled times, and it's difficult to think of near future, the purported end of The Isolations. But we will get there, by hook or by crook, with the help and support of friends and family.
Thursday, March 19, 2020
Notes on the Shelter in Place - Tuesday, March 17, Day One
March 17, 2020
Tuesday, ostensibly St Patrick's Day, was our first day in Marin County to Shelter in Place due to COVID-19. At high noon, nary a mouse stirred up and down Fourth St in San Rafael. I went downtown SR to finish up some business at Copperfield's Bookstore but it was closed. And Riley Street Art Store also closed. Not sure why I thought they might be open - but it's difficult to imagine this reality. Some of the restaurants were open but very few people were in them. Plenty of parking on Fourth Street. One car drove up the street, a stark contrast to the usual bumper-to-bumper creep-along traffic most days. Another person walked down the sidewalk on the other side.
A youngish man, street-living, sat on the sidewalk, braced against yellow stucco walls of the building, scruffy-headed, matted beard, rope holding his jacket closed, rope holding his backpack and belongings together. A stained cap hid his eyes, his face cupped in his hands. It seemed like the image of utmost loneliness to me. No home or hut, no community to bear witness to his existence, to see him. The streets were left to him, perhaps some of his friends, and the police.
Tuesday, ostensibly St Patrick's Day, was our first day in Marin County to Shelter in Place due to COVID-19. At high noon, nary a mouse stirred up and down Fourth St in San Rafael. I went downtown SR to finish up some business at Copperfield's Bookstore but it was closed. And Riley Street Art Store also closed. Not sure why I thought they might be open - but it's difficult to imagine this reality. Some of the restaurants were open but very few people were in them. Plenty of parking on Fourth Street. One car drove up the street, a stark contrast to the usual bumper-to-bumper creep-along traffic most days. Another person walked down the sidewalk on the other side.
A youngish man, street-living, sat on the sidewalk, braced against yellow stucco walls of the building, scruffy-headed, matted beard, rope holding his jacket closed, rope holding his backpack and belongings together. A stained cap hid his eyes, his face cupped in his hands. It seemed like the image of utmost loneliness to me. No home or hut, no community to bear witness to his existence, to see him. The streets were left to him, perhaps some of his friends, and the police.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)