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If you start flipping through TV channels today, you are bound to land upon a disaster movie, and not just the infamous Contagion.  Just now I landed on the end of Spielberg’s version of The War of the Worlds.  You might find one of my other favorites such as Twister, or any of the Godzilla movies.  The other night I caught World Invasion: Battle Los Angeles.

I am sure that this is not an accident.

More of us are are home flipping through channels with hopes of escaping the nightmare outside our doors right now.  We are held captive by the screen and its remote.  Isn’t it better to be thrust into an imaginary world that is being transformed by some disaster or another?  The question is what can we learn from watching these kinds of stories.

Like many stories, there is a pattern. The people who survive are the ones who have sorted through their personal piles of excrement enough to be able to work with others for the greater good.  Think about Twister.  Bill Paxton’s character needs to come to terms that he still loves his old Storm Chasing partner before he allows himself to follow his passion of hunting down tornadoes and finding a way to collect data from their centers to warn others.

Maybe we should think about our time social distancing as a chance to get to know ourselves a bit better, a chance to work out some buried crap that is so easily ignored while we run in hamster balls on treadmills in our everyday lives.  It is definitely a chance to get to know those we live with better, a chance to form better relationships with them.

Living through this pandemic is like a hard reset on a computer. It’s giving us a chance to figure ourselves out.  We just need to take this opportunity.

Namaste

For the past couple of days, my phone has stopped beeping so often.  Maybe we are at that point in the pandemic where people are retracting behind personal walls.  I don’t always get a call back.  The number of texts has gone down.  Even in my own home, we seem to have retreated to three separate spaces.

It is disconcerting to say the least.  And it can be challenging not to think that people just don’t care about you when your requests for connection go unnoticed.  But the truth might be a bit uglier.  Perhaps we all are retreating behind our mental stone walls trying to figure out how to cope with week three of Covid 19.

The news doesn’t help.  Dr. Fauci gives vague amounts of time for how long the pandemic might last.  It could be weeks. In NJ, the news announces that it could be 21 days before the virus peaks. President Trump has been recorded saying that he is considering putting NY, NJ, and CT under a national quarantine.

My friends and I agree that we most likely won’t be teaching in an actual classroom until maybe May, if not June.

Social Distancing is rapidly becoming self-isolation.

And that is a bit scary.

But we live in odd times, don’t we?

Stay safe everyone!

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

Today I have been thinking of the rituals that we humans turn to in times of trouble. Some of them are fun and familiar, the others mark endings or beginnings.  But in the time of Covid 19, it can be difficult to continue utilizing some rituals.  How do you have a funeral?  When will you be able to go to a house of worship to pray?  What about Sunday family dinners?  Could it be possible that there won’t be Easter Egg hunts this year?

My aunt reached out today to see how we have been holding up and somehow the discussion turned to my Nana, who is nearing 101.  Nana has rethought her future burial.  It seems that she has changed her mind about where to rest. As my aunt relayed the options and Nana’s choices, all the while trying not to sob, I recalled the time I lived with Nana in my early 20s.

She had rituals galore! You knew you would have hamburgers on Saturday, cereal for lunch, and eggs and bacon before church.  Daily, she would have a cocktail somewhere around 5 p.m.  And dinner was always finished with a bit of ice cream and a cookie.  One of my favorite sayings of hers is “Lookie, lookie, who’s got the cookies?”

She would walk two miles twice a day: once in the morning, and then again after dinner.   The New York Times would always be found on her sun porch, where she would sit for hours in the afternoon.  She would always shop at A&P, claiming that the local Kings was too expensive.  In the Spring she would garden; her strawberries flourished in the back of her yard, while flowers punctuated the side with multiple colors and sizes.

My grandfather, Nana’s husband, jumped out of airplanes as a part of the 82nd Airborne in WWII.  Ritual and routine were a necessity as the family moved to Japan, then back to the States.  From Arizona to New Jersey, and I am sure there are a few more places.   Nana has seen a lot.  Her mother, my great grandmother, was supposed to be on the Titanic’s maiden voyage.  For some reason, maybe a bit of intuition, she didn’t go.  Papa was stationed in Pearl Harbor when it was bombed by the Japanese on December 7th.  It seems that my family has always dwelled in chaos.

Papa passed away in the 80s.  Nana is isolated in her nursing home.  No one can see her now.  I don’t even know if she gets to see the cards I send. But I remember her stories.

Having little rituals during this pandemic is a necessity.  Even if you are home, get up at the same time of day.  Take time to eat lunch with your family.  Maybe have a half glass of wine at 5:00. And cookies after dinner might be fine too.  Whatever those little things you did before the advent of Covid 19 are important.  Make the beds. Brush your teeth. Do your laundry the same time of the week.

I believe human beings can find comfort in this little rituals.  And the rituals can delineate parts of our day, adding support in a chaotic time.

I’d love to hear which rituals you are still practicing.  Leave me a note in the comments.

Namaste

A few months ago, or maybe it was last summer….I’m not sure, my house became the gathering place for about five to seven woman. Every Friday we have been meeting between 4:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. for coffee and treats. Three of them live on my street.  Two to three drive here, one from over an hour away.  I make coffee, which is sometimes sludge, sorry to admit that, but it’s true.  And they bring treats.

Every week they show up, whether I am tired, grumpy, or other.  I have only canceled once in the past several months, and that was because of an ear infection. During the holidays, we exchanged gifts. When I was suffering from concussion symptoms, they came an extra day to play cards.

We discuss friends, family, politics, the state of the world…you name it.

Over the many get togethers we have had, we have become good friends.  Some have become mother figures for me.  A few have helped my family and I when we have been in a jam.  I love these ladies and the time we spend together.

But in the Era of Covid 19, things have changed.

Last week four of us got together outside. We sat in lawn furniture with iced tea, strawberry shortcake and chocolate cookies. One of us dressed up in goggles and a mask.  She carried a ruler to make sure we were six feet apart.  We chuckled.

But there was a heaviness to the air around us.  I ended our gathering a bit earlier than usual; my mood was foul. And as they walked around toward the front of my house and to their cars, or to their houses, I knew that that would be the last time we would meet together.

But I didn’t want to trust my gut.  So I texted the usual invite. No one responded.  So I called the heartiest of them, the one who had the guts to wear goggles last week. And I could tell from her voice that she is afraid, afraid enough to stay alone in her home that she had not left in God knows how many days.

So I called another one, who mentioned Zoom.  And for the next four hours my phone has blown up with chats about using Zoom, or Google Hangouts. So here it is 10:40p.m. Eastern time, and we have tested our options with hopes of a virtual Coffee Clutch tomorrow.  Who knew how motivating it would be for shut-in elderly to learn new tech just to stay connected?

I am thrilled that they want to learn, because my stomach dropped when they said they didn’t want to come over tomorrow.  I don’t blame them.  I just miss them.

Staying connected during Covid 19 is the greatest necessity.  And we have to use tech to do it.  People are afraid.  People are losing hope.

We are in this together and need to reach out to one another.

So pick up your phone.

Teach your loved ones to use tech.

Reach out and give hope tomorrow.

That’s the best for which I can ask.

Namaste

 It’s cold and rainy here in NJ.  But I guess I should be grateful it isn’t snow, although snow would be prettier.  The weather made it much harder to get started today.  As usual, my inbox was blown up with student emails this morning, and I’ll be honest, I hadn’t posted the lesson yet.  Still, it was important to help my own kid post something for a Twitter school spirit activity.   I posted a pic and a video asking my Ss to check back in 30 minutes.

Outside of our little house, the news feed blew up.  I took a moment to listen to Governor Cuomo, who has become a recent favorite.  He is calm in his approach to this calamity.  And the phrase of the day, which he posted on a slide, was SETTLE IN.  No birthday parties (my 50th is in May), no dinner guests, no movies, no games.  Sugar honey iced tea.  I turned off the TV. Social distancing is the new norm.

Maybe an hour later my phone chirped.  NJ’s governor slipped and indicated that schools could be closed for the rest of the year.  Then he backtracked just a bit.  NJ wouldn’t be the first state to close for the year.  Kansas has beaten us to it.

But the thought of not going back hurt. What about my son’s sixth grade trip? What about the music concert?  Or what about last year’s students’ graduation?  My heart started to beat faster. My palms got sweaty.  My stomach flipped. How much longer can this last?  Am I ready for two months of this?  Or longer?

And then I pictured all the images of people on the beaches in Florida.  Or those running around outside together at a park.  And then there was the Facebook post yelling about kids seen in a local empty parking lot.

Settling in is hard.

As my frustration grew, I moved from the kitchen island to our couch to work.  Then I grabbed my keys, and escaped to Dunkin’, who only does take out.  As I sat in line waiting for a couple of coffees and a doughnut for our son, I saw someone on the opposite side of the building banging on the door.

Mind you, there are bright green signs on every window and door stating that take out is the only option these days, but here was this idiot banging on the sign.

I couldn’t believe it.  Couldn’t he read?  Or was he ignoring the signs?

And maybe that’s the problem we have right now.  Covid 19 isn’t personal.  It’s about everyone.  And it doesn’t matter who you are or how wealthy you may be, banging on a door won’t make this go away.

So can’t we all just settle in?

Maybe. Just Maybe then, the high school graduates can have a celebration, we might be able to swim in our local pools in the summer, and maybe we can travel to go on vacations.

Namaste