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Covid19 Journal Entry 5


March 26, 2020
Driving West again, my return to Iowa on the Mississippi River and my students.

Today’s Image - 96.5 degrees F. - that is my temperature today.  I am asymptomatic, feeling fine. Like millions of others, I search myself for telltale body sensations, ones I’ve read about and heard of - a scratchy throat grabs my attention, a cough after eating a dry snack without a washdown raises my heart rate for a moment.  I’ve been unable to stop touching my face - nose itches and I must scratch it, saliva pools at the corners of my mouth, sometimes drips down a fine crease off my lips if I am extra juicy and I have to wipe it away; sometimes an eye waters for no good reason and needs dabbing too. I am prone to rest my cheek bone or chin on my palm or thumb when listening at a table. The vectors of transmission grow long and unkind. Sure, as I get more aware of my interminable face handling tendencies, I compensate by chronically cleaning my hands, even using my wrist in a sleeve to relieve such simple and lifelong urges, turned menacing.  It they take me down, I supposed they will take me down.  Still, spending this part of my shelter in place days in the Appalachian woods and rural town settings has given me a gift - mindful refuge from the hysteria storm beyond me.  I have held witness to the accounts from hot zones worldwide, feeling as if I am standing on the shore of a brown turbid spring river watching the danger flow by and  realizing I could soon be entering the heat myself.  Who knows if it will be as victim or volunteer?

Today’s idea - Here is an extraordinarily teachable cascade of moments.  What an extraordinarily fortunate time to be a teacher!

Today’s observation - I have returned to the Nolichucky Gorge Campground community in Tennessee to spend one more night and morning with my son. Before I pull in to his space, I indulge myself stopping at the park picnic park and boat launching site beside the Nolichucky River to write and just watch it roll by.  It has a vigor that echoes all around me in the vibrancy of the blossoming trees, the fat green pillows of moss carpeting rocks and dead fall; in the robin, sparrow and Rufus-sided towhee cacophony overhead; in the chorus of spring peppers behind me. A kayaker has just paddled up to the takeout and pulled his boat from the river; passing me we exchange greetings, and my Westie yips for recognition too out the back window, as he stops with his gear at the maroon Ford Econoline van beside us.  There are kids climbing across a line of boulders, who pause to watch him load his vintage blue Perception onto the racks and tie it down. They are barefoot and shorts clad, it’s 5:30 on a Thursday evening.  The feel of vacation days from school rolls out of their chatter as they leaf frog each other across this sunny afternoon, reminding me it’s best to simply live in the moment too.


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