Moping

This is Scout's favorite "mope" position and today, he kept switching sides back and forth while Nu and I listened to Sue Monk Kidd's The Invention of Wings--something I've wanted to do since we fell in love with the radical Grimke sisters when we were reading Rad American Women A-Z five years ago. (Incidentally, while there have been lots of girl-centered hero books since, Rad American Women A-Z remains my favorite because of the way it centers social justice.)

When I'm not actively occupying myself with something productive  (good) or self-flagellating with the news (bad), I find I too am moping in various positions and locations like our Scout. 

Somethings

I'm uplifted by the green madness of everywhere; purified by the outrage and anger of everywhere.

I startle awake, heart pounding, at full alert, 3-4 times a night.

I am happy-proud our 12-year-old Nu gave $100 to the Minnesota Freedom Fund.

I dreamt I heard protestors chanting "no justice, no peace" on our street.

Out on the river, it feels like everything's normal.

(Although nothing is, really.)

Going High

Out with L after a long two weeks of quarantine and the light as we came out from under the dinginess of Beal St. bridge was... radiant.

I'm thinking of protestors all over the world and thanking them for their radiance too.

Childhood's fave cousin (now ideological opponent) sent pictures of angry protestors  to the cousin chat-group hoping all of us were safe. I affirmed our safety and added an arch statement about militarized police being the real problem.

And all he said in reply was how glad we he was that we were all safe.

I guess I'm the asshole now.

Sitting Witness

Although my dad is more likely to read the sports section of a newspaper than pick up a book of poetry, his school experience of the Tamil poet Subramania Bharati would get him so fired up that he'd declaim "Thani oru manithanakku unavu illayenil intha jagaththinai azhithiduvom" frequently. So I'm no stranger to Bharati's radical outrage, the threat/aspiration to burn the whole world down if even one person is harmed. 

 I can mourn the horrific murders in the midst of this pandemic of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd and don't find myself distracted by other actions a grieving people may undertake. But in case anyone hears it, thinks it, or needs it--here is a lovely primer of "How to respond to 'riots never solve anything.'"

And please donate, if you can. Every one of us with a credit card in this family (At, Big A, I) have donated independently of each other this time.

https://payit2.com/fundraiser/98548… (@BlackVisionsMN)
https://secure.everyaction.com/zae4prEeKESHBy0MKXTIcQ2… (@reclaimtheblock)
https://unicornriot.ninja/donate/ (@UR_Ninja)
https://gofundme.com/f/georgefloyd

Here's to the Chroniclers

Over at the NYT, Teju Cole says true and clever things about chronicling life in this pandemic, and it reminded me of all the bloggers who update frequently, and are giving credence and structure to readers' experiences via their own daily meditations.  I miss my old blogging peers from the time of the Mutiny and people I met there including Cole himself. I remember him saying something faintly nice about a poem of mine here once upon a time, and how it made the rest of my week/month--something like that. Ha.

I've tried to get the kids to keep journals; Nu got as far as decorating the cover of the new notebook I gave them; At scoffed, but he's quite tweety, so there's that. Anyway, these days, I'm starting internet meanderings with: Ana Begins, Grumpy Ramblings, Harry Times, Not of General Interest, Shu Box, Something Remarkable, and Stirrup Queens.  Updating here daily has helped me remember and process these days--yes I've cried every day for the past week, but apparently I've done so for discrete reasons. (Not really; it's mostly been related to living in the pandemic, but at least I have a list of different things that set me off.)

Here's a link to Cole's essay and some pull quotes where he articulates the anxiety of articulation in the right now.

Teju Cole: We Can’t Comprehend This Much Sorrow: History’s first draft is almost always wrong — but we still have to try and write it. 

"This year has been a blur, but I remember one day clearly: Sunday, March 8. It was the last day I ate at a restaurant, the last day I went to a concert (Red Baraat at the Sinclair in Cambridge, Mass.) and the last day I hugged a friend. It was also the first time I thought that I should begin writing about what was going on.

"That thought was immediately followed by its negation: Why bother? The same incidents, the same references and the same outrages would inevitably be picked over by other writers; for all our social distancing, we’d all be crowding around the same material. I also knew that anything I wrote could soon be — in fact was almost certain to be — contradicted by new developments. But what worried me most was that certain points of emphasis in my writing would later prove to have been misjudged, and that this would somehow reveal that my heart had been in the wrong place all along.

Looking Up

Made some good progress clearing debris from the garden beds, dredged leaves from the pond, found two morels, and would have worked some more in the garden, but I stepped in something yucky (bad puppies!!) and temporarily lost my will to live.

But seriously--the hope of planting veggies fills me with hope. It signals things like: *happening in the future* and *moving forward* and I need that right now.

After all, the lockdown seems like an infinite present, where cancelations and uncertainties abound: no biennial August family reunion in Montana; Dear Evan Hansen tickets on hold for a year; no idea if classes will be online on in-person come fall...

At was inducted into the national history honor society, so we celebrated today as "History Day." I made him a timeline of all the places we've lived, and taught him how to make mango lassi; he picked a historical movie for the fam to watch--Philadelphia, which ties in nicely to what I'm reading--Rebecca Makkai's wonderful The Great Believers.

Yes, please!

In other art news, this uncharacteristically "earnest" superhero nurse painting by Banksy and Indian folk artists using gods as characters to message social distancing and hygiene.

This is Us

Sparty wears a mask; be like Sparty!
(MSU Stadium on Monday 4/27)

While Lansing didn't get the volume of Covid cases predicted, Big A has been seeing patients in the E.D. and has been self-isolating. This article--"What the Pandemic is doing to the Children of Doctors and Nurses" (and children of other frontline workers: grocery, mail, sanitation, transport, etc. too, I daresay!) posted by ND, Big A's NYU batch-mate, really struck a nerve. 

I mean this... is literally us:
"Some health-care workers have moved away from their families, and many others have isolated in spare bedrooms or basements, trying to explain to their kids that they can no longer hug them because the consequences of even a single touch could be dire."

The Low Road

Big A is cheating the puppies at play in this picture; I want the record to show that 😊. Also, despite a full day, it felt quite low. But also, I've been remembering Marge Piercy's poem, and plan to share it with the family tomorrow at dinner.

(In other news, birthday parties for KB and SS and a fougasse bake-along with PM and posse.)

Brave New Nu

Well... the clippers I ordered arrived and Nu was quite insistent that they wanted their head shaved. "If not now then when, mama?"--which is a fair Q. Plus it was their "Boss Day."

On top of that, At pointed out that lots of people are doing it during the lockdown 

including health workers at the forefront of the the fight...

And so, voila:

Reimagining

Arundhati Roy being visionary as usual; the full article is in The Financial Times.  

Time to Freak Out

Big A has been talking about how dire things are in NYC and thinking about heading out to help. Today the city sent out an emergency alert to every NYC phone and waived privileges, credentialing and other requirements for out-of-state healthcare workers. I think I knew even as we were walking with the puppies and making our usual silly jokes that he had decided to go.

He told me late this evening... or rather, he "asked me" if he could go. He's just told his practice and is trying to rearrange his shifts here. 

The thing is I was selfishly hoping that we'd make it out ok as Lansing has PPE (for now) and not as many cases (for now). I even suggested he go to Detroit instead--at least I would be able to get to him if needed. I know he's doing the right thing. But I'm so scared, ashamed for being this selfish, and really, really scared.

The Weight

This picture accompanied that awful story about India's sudden 21-day lockdown and the thousands of migrant workers who had to set off on foot for their "homes" hundreds of miles away as public transport had been halted.

And I look at that small child (center, front) carrying the toddler nearly half her size, and I look at the instinctive half-smile of the child carrying the large sack on his head, and I don't even know what to do.

Where are they going? Where are we going? What can I do? Everything feels really *heavy* right now.

Things people have posted about the pandemic that have bugged me (no pun intended)

serenity now!
(MSU Healing Gardens walk with L yesterday)

Corona and COVID-19 jokes or names e.g. "Corona Times," Corona Hug," "COVIDEO," etc.

People are dying, my Big A is on the front-lines here, I didn't get to even end the semester properly with my students, and I'm not in the mood for your stoopid jokes.

(Never mind that I made similar jokes a week ago and the kids still do.)

Relief that it doesn't affect people who are healthy/young/don't have underlying conditions. 
I know and love too many people in each of those categories and I can't believe you're saying it out loud where people who are at risk can hear you.
(Never mind that the thought has crossed my mind too, and I'm grateful I'm not at additional risk.)

Praise for the slower pace of life
Why the heck did it take a global pandemic for you to get in touch with yourself/read/craft/enjoy music and art/spend time with your kids?
(Don't mind me, I'm just grumpy that all this time I love, love getting with the kids is offset by all the time I'm not getting with Big A.)

Happiness about the recovering earth: dolphins in Venice, drunk elephants in China, whales in New York, all that.
Ok, that is actually so cute.
(Even if it appears to be all fake.)

Legg Day

Legg Park hike; some glimpses of the river, but mostly muddy and ordinary. Scout and Huck loved it, and At and Nu approved of our shorter outing. Lots of distance between us--L and T, B and L, and KP.

And OK--it appears that health care workers seem to be getting sicker from coronavirus--I had noticed this from bits of news, but thought I was just sensitized to notice those bits because Big A works in the E.D. But no. So I've been expressing some panic, anxiety, and fear over here. (understatement)

Love in the time of Corona

I couldn't completely give up on family dinners, so this is how it is now with Big A on one side and the rest of us clustered on the other side.

It was a strange day that felt like the beginning of a war. The email cancelling in-person classes after today had come in at midnight, so I knew driving in that it was the last day. Then I got stuck in a convoy of military trucks on the highway, and it felt like being in the middle of a post-apocalyptic movie. I hammered out an asynchronous schedule for next week; had Big A order At to come home asap; attended a service at the chapel for graduating seniors who are absolutely crushed that commencement is "postponed," and teared up a few times myself; met with my Friday class and let them vent about having to go home/their dashed hopes for choir-band-track/fears about the virus itself; followed the senior playing bagpipes around campus for a while; heard singers practicing "Loch Lomond" on the steps of the library; and then made my way home. I have the feeling all the sweet details of campus life are going to come back to haunt me as this disruption intensifies.

Going(s) on

 Found this as my advisee S and I walked over to the registrar's office, and it gave us both a chuckle.

We've been told that we'll suspend in-person classes after April 3rd; and the delay has colleagues anxious, and students cynical that the date was chosen because it's the last day to request a housing refund.

Answering the call

While I headed to work early, L and T took Nu voting with them and Nu got to ring the bell(!!!); meanwhile in another part of the state, At was driving peeps to the polls.




                          

In the news

'Walk'

Elizabeth Warren dropping out of the race today is the gut-punch of post-birthday slumps.

We have such a long road ahead...

Intergenerational Birthday Road Trip

In Detroit for the women's suffrage centennial art exhibit and lunch from many stalls inside Eastern Market. Lots of talks about the democratic candidates as animals (Warren is a dolphin), advice for the next decade in our lives, our best lessons in this one, and famous people born on my birthday (Vivaldi!).

Back home for pizza, and then off to the Wharton Center for My Fair Lady. The kids kept snoozing off, and after the show ended, we walked around in circles trying to find where we'd parked--thankfully, At spotted Bluey after about 20 minutes, just before Nu fell asleep on me again.