Pen-demic

One of my long term concerns for this extended period of   isolation is the way it divides, reducing others to flat, uni-dimensional categories of I’m right and you’re wrong, of moral and immoral choices, of bad people and good people. When we are locked behind screens with limited face-to-face contact, it’s difficult to remember that people are more than an ideology on a single issue. Real life is messy, complicated, and full of contradictions. People are, too. The daily rhythm of real relationships-in our work, in our schools, in our churches and gyms and town halls- allows for us to see beyond a single issue. When an ideology is attached to flesh and blood, we can debate and disagree, but it is easier to embrace and forgive. There is danger, according to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, in a single story (see Ted Talk of the same name). There is danger in inflexible narratives that lack understanding of context and back story. There is danger in reducing one another to sound bites...

For whoever out there needs to see this tonight... especially my educator friends. I will teach your children… I will wear a mask And while I can’t hug them when they cry Or high five them when they succeed, I will reach them My eyes will show concern or sparkle My voice will soothe or uplift I will teach your children I will keep my distance But they will know that I care. I send them notes… electronically And “the teacher look” will be one of understanding. A gesture A look A signal will mean more than it ever has I will teach your children I will design opportunities for them to “talk” with their classmates n break-out rooms on Zoom in-person with a mask on from 3 or 6 feet They will share how they feel What they’re reading What they’re writing What they’re thinking I will teach your children I will maneuver through the changes that are bound to come I will help them know how to deal with the unknown I know they are flexible, much more so than I They roll with t...

For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours, now and forever, Amen.   The Lord's Prayer. The final sentence of the Lord's Prayer acknowledges that power belongs to God more than it belongs to the one who prays to God. It is power that we have a problem relinquishing, and power that we consider our right as free people. It is power that complicates every human relationship, and power that makes us reckless to the point of death. If we think that power is a right, rather than "an endowment" (Declaration of Independence), we endanger more lives than our own. The Coronavirus has seized power from people around the globe. There is no need to claim it is a God-sent pandemic, but it certainly is a test of our ability to yield power by curtailing our social activity. In the United States and Brazil we are flunking this test, because we consider ourselves free and invulnerable people. We do not understand that power is provisional. We must be ready to yield it at...

We thought you were just a lamb, a simple flu virus     But you weren’t We thought a couple of weeks stay-at-home would send you on your way      It didn’t We thought our leaders would help you on your way     They didn’t We thought our leaders would learn from scientists as they learned more instead of politicizing their wrong-headed original plans     They didn’t We thought that our world could get back to normal quickly     It couldn’t Thousands of people have died who could have been saved     They weren’t We thought that individuals would learn to wear masks willingly without coercion     They didn’t We thought you were a lamb We were wrong A lioness on the prowl, you will kill or cripple many more before you are done Immunity will save us, but when will it come? Judy Richardson

Tired. How else to describe it. Overwhelmed.  The new normal is wearing on us and on our personas. Wearing masks that hold in the humidity from our bodies.  Wearing masks that become harder and harder to breathe through if we exert ourselves. When it’s hot and humid we don’t even need to exert ourselves for it to become more difficult to breathe.  Breathe in, the mask sucks in against my face – perhaps my seal is TOO good?  Perhaps my mask fits too well to my face? So many options of them – which will be cooler in the heat? Which will stay in place when we talk instead of moving up and blocking my eyes? Which won’t cause my glasses to fog? Which are more flexible?  Which will fit my face the best?  Which will fit a “general face” the best when I make them for others? What do I have already that can be adapted?  Sewing a cotton filter and nose piece inside a colorful scarf?  Attaching a scarf to a mask? Neck gaiters for the guys? Beak st...

We ended our school year with a masked faculty member bringing a black plastic trash bag filled with my fourth grader's belongings out to our car and putting it in the trunk. After a few days I finally worked up the nerve to open the trash bag and found all the sparkly, glittery pink notebooks and folders my daughter had picked out at the beginning of the school year, when she was so full of hope and excitement for school. I sat in the trunk and cried. No matter what we do,  the coming school year isn't going to look like the ones before it. It's not going to be crowded cafeterias with friends talking about their day, or kids guessing the number of Hershey's kisses in a jar at class parties. Whatever normalcy we're longing for our kids to have this year, they're not going to get it, no matter what path is chosen for us, nor what path we choose. Since my kids are in a high-risk category due to my son's asthma and their dad's heart problems, I...

Credit: CDC/Science Photo Library Wondering where my life will take me, Swept away, without the usual control Weak. Spiritless. Untethered. Just seeing the unlovely. Feeling alone and wishing that Life wouldn’t seem so daunting It’s a sadness I can’t explain How it started I do not know Lonely, yet among people, Sad, yet having all I need. Unloved, yet told otherwise; but Not broken Not unhopeful Not crazy Just melancholy. Sharon Cardwell After 4 months of the pandemic, Covid

Suddenly we were gone from their presence Poof  An avatar on a screen A voice-over on a slide show A tone-less comment on a document But they were still with us In our hearts And when we meet again...if we meet again Masked Eyes only Hidden smiles Hugs forbidden But they will be with us In our hearts There are no good choices now None Virtual...who will help them? Part-time...who will be with them? All together...who will die? But... Hearts Raquel Babb, teacher July 2020 Photo by  Trent Erwin  on  Unsplash