Tag Archives: COVID-19

“Avoiding” the news

I wrote in my journal this morning that I thought I might just avoid the news today.

That didn’t last long.

Take a look at
https://www.stltoday.com/entertainment/dining/restaurants/off-the-menu/video-of-downtown-bar-packed-with-unmasked-patrons-sparks-outrage/article_72439aac-9147-58be-9820-52ef950ccd6f.html

I share the outrage.  I am doing my part to quell this pandemic and help get our lives back to normal.  I want to hug again.  I want to sit with others again.  I want to perform, and see others perform.

The selfishness and arrogance inherent in those who do not distance and practice the safety measures — well, the mind is boggled.  And angry.  And infuriated.

I shouldn’t have read the news.

Then I watched the arrival of Congressman John Lewis’ mortal remains at the Capitol in Washington, D.C.

And I found myself weeping again.

Why?

Pageantry?  Certainly.

Grief?  Not for him, now on a brighter shore.

But for us.  For U.S.  For our national life and discourse.  For our commity.  For our place in the world.  For the work yet to be done.  For Black lives.  For my part in this continued struggle.

And then the farce just makes me furious again — the farce of Mitch McConnell eulogizing John Lewis when the Barrier from Kentucky (I wrote a different B word in my journal) has fought so much and so hard against things that Lewis fought for.

Social distance, day 113

For this 113th day of physical distance, a tribute to Ennio Morricone, who died today in Roma.  He was 91 years old.

I adore Cinema Paradiso, with Morricone’s perfect musical contributions to this love letter to film.

My little contribution today is the love them from that movie.

Social distance, day 100

Day 1 was Monday, March 16.

I had been to the office on Sunday, since we knew that campus would be pretty vacant on Monday, and I would be teaching from home.  But I really should have started counting on Sunday, March 15.

Or perhaps on Tuesday 17th, since I actually hugged my circus nephews . . . briefly in a fly-by-the-house way . . . on Monday 16th.

But at this point, what does it signify?  Many of us have spent the last 100 days, give or take, in a physically distant buffer zone, or a small bubble with others observing the same protocols.

Me?  I’ve had one and only one faces-turned hug in the last 100 days . . . a few porch and patio visits . . . and that’s it.

I’m ready to feel and touch and be human again.

Having now reached this symbolic milestone of 100 days, I am going to be more selective about what I post and when.  I’ve posted every single one of these 100 days, and I’m tired. The daily will be more sporadic, but not gone completely.

For this 100th day of physical distance: a song I wrote in early 2014, about Jason, the one who I knew was going to slip away and go home to China.  The melancholy was already real.

And a live version from two years ago:

Thanks for sharing these first 100 days with me.

[And oh, how my voice has aged in the last six years . . . .]