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Page 19 of 28
You might have to look closely to see it, but this is a photo from inside of our car windshield. on the left side you can still see the orange mark where the vaccination site staff wrote the time of my vaccine on our windshield with a glass marker so that everyone would know when it was safe for us to leave.
March 24, 2021
I am not a Van Gogh type of person: I cannot be creative when I am depressed. But I have tried to do two things consistently throughout the pandemic: walk and read. These are the books I am currently reading. I also read the news everyday but I am trying to break that habit. I find myself in tears often - for instance, the continued assault on black people by racist police; reading that 10 people were shot in a supermarket; the attack on Asian Americans.
March 24, 2021
Had a discussion with my boyfriend,VA, today about how covid has affected us over the past year and I realized that we live in 2 completely opposite worlds. I live in a world where I am an essential worker. I have worked through the entire pandemic treating patients in person and virtually. I have had to deal with the emotional burden of patients losing family members, and wondering every day if I would get the virus and bring it home to VA. He has lived in a world where his company shut down immediately and started working from home. He transitioned teams several months in and have never met his coworkers face to face. His days are lonely but at least our dog keeps him company.
March 26, 2021
La Semana Santa en mi país es un tiempo muy especial. Se desarrollan gran cantidad de eventos religiosos como las procesiones, pero no solo eso. La Semana Santa es un tiempo en que las personas salen de sus casas y conforman una comunidad , por ejemplo, al elaborar alfombras de aserrín para las imágenes que pasan en procesión. Es un tiempo en el que colaboran niños, jóvenes y adultos. Algunos hacen las alfombras, otros proveen comida gratuita a los que trabajan. Los mayores les enseñan a los niños como hacerlo. Se trabaja hombro con hombro. Es algo que difícilmente se puede ver en otras circunstancias. Se trabaja durante horas, de madrugada, hasta ver el amanecer. Y el resultado es una obra de arte, bella, que desaparecerá en segundos bajo el peso de las andas. Las imágenes que salen en procesión representan actos de fe y devoción en quienes las cargan. Las devociones se trasladan de generaciones en generaciones en una misma familia. Las personas compran flores y las echan en las andas, se emocionan al verlas pasar. Es tan fuerte la vivencia, que es necesario experimentarla para comprenderla. Una señora amiga nuestra que murió hace unos años, durante su agonía, decía: "Ya viene el cortejo, ya va a salir la procesión". Así de fuerte se interioriza. La Semana Santa es un imaginario lleno de tradiciones, leyendas, gastronomía, arte, música, y por supuesto, religiosidad. El Covid-19 nos quitó eso. Desde el año pasado no ha sido posible tener una Semana Santa como solía ser. Es algo muy triste que creo nos pesa y nos duele a muchas personas. En la foto pueden ver una pequeña alfombra de aserrín que hice en mi casa cuando nos visitó una imagen pequeña de Jesús de Candelaria. La elaboré como una forma de intentar consolarme. Pero la verdad es que nada compensa la ausencia de las tradiciones de Semana Santa en mi país. Nada.
March 26, 2021
Waiting for flights across the miles Waiting for beaming, unmasked smiles Waiting to savor each embrace Waiting to kiss a grandchild’s face
March 27, 2021
When I got my reminder for journaling this week, I ignored it at first. I was really angry at not being able to get a vaccine appointment. But then this week, I did work that met enthusiastic approval from folks often hard to please AND: I decided to try to repair this lamp. The switch was going bad for some time and then one day I couldn't turn the lamp on. I love this lamp, it's on the dresser in my bedroom. I found it at one of those discount home goods stores a few years ago, so it's one of a kind. I watched some videos online, then I walked over to the hardware store and bought a new socket. I got out some tools and replaced the socket and voilá, it works! What a sense of efficacy and overcoming doubt. And I just got back from getting dose one. So a really good week. (And it's spring!!!!)
March 27, 2021
This is a picture of the whiteboard on our fridge this week. We started the whiteboard when trying to problem solve a conflict after couples therapy a few years ago. I need things to be out where I can see them so I don't forget, and my wife wants everything put away. So we compromised with putting things to remember on the whiteboard instead of having piles or pieces of paper lying around. Over the years it's morphed into a place we put notes for each other and appointments so we know what's going on in each others lives. This week seemed so quintessentially of this time with COVID tests, vaccines, and Zoom meetings. We're both vaccinated now and for once in a long time, we both had more than 5 days off in a row, so we decided to get tested and do a small trip to Hawaii. It's really starting to feel like the end now. I know we still have a long way to go but now almost everyone I know has been able to get the first dose and we're all counting down to "hug day" - the two week day after the second vaccine where we can actually hug each other again. It's a hopeful time. I still see the numbers each day in the NYTimes and can't believe how many people are still dying. It's such a surreal feeling when the end seems so close. Hoping this summer the numbers will be double digits and the white board will look a little different. Looking forward to seeing everyone again, but hoping we can preserve some of the good things from this year - slowing down, appreciating things, and checking in and caring about other people.
March 27, 2021
I live in the San Francisco Bay Area and my parents live 500 miles away in San Diego. I haven't seen them since last February. Next weekend we are going to Southern California for spring break and I am so eager to see them! The CDC says that it's safe for us to be together in the same household, and even though travel isn't recommended, we are driving and only plan to stop to use the restroom and get gas so it feels pretty safe. I've started collecting the things I want to take with me, and pulled out our zoo membership cards earlier today to book appointments for our visit. It's one of my favorite places and imagining myself walking the beautiful grounds and visiting the elephants made me teary. I can't believe that some "before" things are coming soon.
March 28, 2021
Tuesday evening, 23 March 2021 at 8 p.m. all over the United Kingdom, people lit their doorsteps and front windows with candles, flashlights, and phones as a "Beacon of Remembrance" for those who have died in the pandemic. 23 March marks the anniversary of the UK's first Covid lockdown. Here in Scotland, my family and I shone our flashlights at the people in the house across the street from us, whom we've only come to know since the pandemic began - standing at our garden gates and shouting encouragement to each other from across the street. On Wednesday, 24 March 2021, I did my third stint of volunteering at a local Covid vaccination centre - and got my own first vaccination at the same time, right in the middle of my volunteering shift. It was so uplifting! Everyone there was in my own age cohort, as they roll out the vaccine by age group - but also, because I was in a local vaccination centre, I met so many people that I knew as they came in for their own vaccination appointments. Within 40 minutes of ushering people to vaccinators (NHS - National Health Service - nurses and the Army were both giving vaccinations), I had met four people I knew - two friends and two of my grown children's former teachers. When it was time for my own vaccination, I was made to feel like a poster child for the entire programme - someone had to fill in for me for ten minutes while I stood in the queue, all the other marshalls laughed and joked with me as they gave me the necessary information, and half a dozen NHS staff all exclaimed, "You should have told us you had your vaccination letter, we'd have slipped you in earlier!" When it was done I went straight back to marshalling. I am an American ex-pat living in Scotland; I have had dual citizenship since 2016. My heart absolutely swells with pride to see how my adopted country is rising to the challenge of vaccinating its people, and to be able to help out with that a little bit.
March 29, 2021
We're now deep into our second Passover during the pandemic. Zooming felt less weird, of course, and it was less painful to be gathering this way than in person as we'd hoped and expected last year. There are moments, like the first seder, when it really hits how long we've been in this. A year ago, at last year's Zoom seder, my brother and sister-in-law held up an ultrasound picture and announced that they were expecting their second child. At this year's seder, he was there, a sweet infant ... The rest of the kids (the other 4) are bigger now. Their older one, a toddler, was ready to sing along with songs she learned in her preschool. The oldest three -- ages 8, 7, and 5 -- were all able to read, sing the four questions, brainstorm ways to make the world a better place, drawing inspiration from Elijah the prophet. My uncle joined, as did my in-laws from Europe despite the time difference and late hour. With everyone so far apart, it felt especially important to fill the table with the ritual objects that have been part of our family life, even if we were the only ones using them up close: Grandma's seder plate. My great grandma's silver candlesticks -- which I suddenly realized I'm incredibly lucky to have since she had about over a dozen great-grandchildren. The egg-shaped horseradish dish my great-aunt gave me years ago, some time after she'd taught me and the now ex-husband of my cousin how to make her famous gefilte fish from scratch. A delicate painted wine glass given to us as an engagement present by a wonderful mentor and his wife, which we now use for Miriam's water cup. It was part of a pair, but we broke the other one years ago -- and now have given this one a new life on our seder table. (I even love the bud vase we used this year for the daffodils our big kid accidentally cut too short. It's a Campari bottle I snagged decades ago on an airplane, back when alcohol flowed freely on international flights and no one checked ID.) These are all just objects, just stuff, but they're so much a part of what makes the holiday feel right -- or at least right-ish, which is about where we're at right now.
March 29, 2021
This is a photo taken on 26 March 2021 of our food and paper products hoard in our basement. Since we'll be fully vaccinated by end of April, I expect we'll draw this down and not hoard stuff like this in future.
March 31, 2021
I'm beginning to feel a bit more hopeful about the future, which is symbolized by this image called Dawn. The symmetry and perfection of the graphic represents a feeling of cohesion and capability, something we have all lost during the past year. I've been able to complete some projects this week that were impossible to finish because I was distracted and unable to concentrate. A lot of this has happened because I was finally able to find an appointment for a vaccine, which is scheduled for tomorrow at 6:39pm. At the same time that I feel empowered by this, I am also disappointed that this pandemic has turned just about everything into a chore. It will be some time before we are once again able to enjoy our spontaneity together.
March 31, 2021
To survive this global disease, Do get your vaccination, please. Make it your task To wear a mask, And you’ll steer clear of harm with ease.
April 2, 2021
The sheer magnitude of the traumatic, distrubing political events of the last year is mind-boggling. I was never a fan of the Republican party, Trump or his blatantly white supremicist rhetroic, but seeing his army of insurrectionists descend on the Capitol in real time is an event that will FOREVER impact how I view American politics and the cult of personality. Between January 6th and January 21st, I lived in immense fear of our democracy toppling forever at the hands of Q-ANON-ers, bigots, or foreign adversaries. I'm still afraid. I don't know that we will ever come back from Trump's mishandling of COVID, of the presidency, of our future as a nation.
April 2, 2021
March 27, 2021 Caption: Covid days WE ARE OPEN! TA-DA! Yesterday I got a phone call (from Radiologist's office) directing me to book my mammogram, and an email from my Food Coop, directing me to sign up for my shift. I'm not ready yet. I'm not vaxxed. Too much to process.
April 2, 2021
It's not vaxxers vs antivaxxers It's not Republicans vs Democrats It's not science vs skeptics It's people vs the virus This is how we win
April 2, 2021
Last year I had a home decor idea -- using decorative paper to cover the electrical socket plates and lightswitches for all the rooms of the house. I had a hard time finding Mod Podge, the craft coating for the paper. Like a lot of things -- flour, chicken parts, sparkling water -- the stores were out of stock. I ended up ordering it from Amazon, adding to the much higher total I spent online in 2020. Over several weeks I did it bit by bit -- unscrewing the plastic wall plates one by one, cutting the paper, pasting it, letting it dry, and recoating it before replacing it. When it was all done I was even more pleased by it than I expected -- and it is something I will remember the pandemic by.
April 2, 2021
My mom died this week. She didn't die of COVID, but she died *with* it. But she was still forced to die alone. Her husband of 46 years is devastated. He was able to spend 15 minutes with her earlier in the day in full PPE. He wasn't supposed to touch her, but he snuck his hand in anyway. And those lines on the picture are because we had to watch on FaceTime and take a screenshot. You hear about these lonely deaths. But you don't truly understand the depth of it until your family experiences it. It's so complicated, and adds a layer of grief on top of what's already an unimaginable loss. We will never recover from this.
April 4, 2021
Esta es una torreja. Es un postre tradicional de Semana Santa. Mi prima más pequeña estudió para chef y aprendió a hacerlas. El Jueves Santo nos reunimos como todos los años, a excepción del año pasado, cuando el confinamiento por el COVID-19 era totalmente estricto. Ni siquiera mi mamá quiso hacer el bacalao a la vizcaína de ese año. Pero este, sí. Así que nos reunimos, manteniendo la distancia y sin tener contacto entre nosotros. Cada quien aportó algo del menú tradicional de Semana Santa y tuvimos la suerte de sentarnos en torno a la mesa, conversar y comer todos juntos. Son esos momentos los que nos llenan de alegría y esperanza. Son los momentos en que volvemos a ser familia y recordamos lo que hacíamos cuando la "normalidad" prevalecía. Eso pensé este semana. En la suerte y en la buena decisión que tuve de asistir a distintas actividades del Semana Santa cuando tenía buena salud y la vida era "normal". A veces, asistía completamente sola, pero no me importaba. Toda mi vida he hecho muchas cosas yo sola. Ahora puedo disfrutar de los recuerdos y las anécdotas de esas incursiones de Semana Santa. La vida es buena, especialmente cuando puedes ver a tu familia alrededor de una mesa, sanos y con alimentos para compartir. La vida es buena.
April 5, 2021
This is a piece of the calendar of post-it notes my daughter and I started last March when she came home from college. The first week of quarantine last March, we thought it would be interesting to mark the days of staying home and see if we could make it across the room. We had no idea our swoops of seven flags (representing a week) would go all the way around the room. After 10 weeks, we started stacking the flags. Yesterday, at 55 weeks, we finally reached the last day. I’m so thankful that we’ve had no interruptions to our jobs and housing, but it’s great to be done with all that staying home!
April 6, 2021