Skip to main content

Covid19 Journal Entry 7


March 28, 2020

Today’s observation – The morning traffic on 174 West has been thin – mostly 18-wheelers.  I am among the scant population of passenger vehicles.  I see no buses.  The land has been cloaked in ground fog; the sky is overcast. This scenery reminds me of TS Elliot’s poem, The Wasteland.
April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
 It has been interesting to witness how open businesses implement safeguards again infection for their employees and customers. Stopping for a coffee at the Circle K, the lone employee/cashier greeted me from a side room, only showing her face again at the register when I was ready to check out.  I had grabbed a cup and pressed a few buttons to get my freshly ground brew.  Once at the checkout, I stood behind a taped line on the floor between two safety cones, leaning in to set my cup of Joe on the counter.  The cashier really had no contact with my goods, holding her scanning toward the can of dog food, I’d grabbed too.  The transaction was settled with my plastic bank card and my gratitude for them being open at this crack of dawn hour.  Later, when I topped up my tank at a Love’s station, I went into the store there for another coffee and found that the self-service area were roped off, with a sign announcing that now they offered full service in this area.  Employees stationed there took my drink order and passed it to me over the rope, then returned to sanitizing surfaces.  Once back in my own town, I decided to grab some groceries before returning home to my quarantine. For the most part, all was the same as before except for the check out register procedures.  At the head of the conveyor belt was a sign asking us to wait before I loaded my groceries on it so that the cashier could sanitize between them.  Also, I could no longer use my own bags – all groceries went into one use plastic ones.  At home I employed the methods for bringing groceries into the house that I’d watched on the video which a Michigan physician had shared, wiping each item with a disinfectant wipe before putting it away.  It looked like my place had already been deep cleaned and sanitized, so I was very happy to return to this.  This new regime takes time and attention and we seem to be all in, from my observations.  Once again, America does what's necessary in a crisis, we can be good citizens.  The pathogen appears to be the great uniter.

Today’s idea – I believe we are in a shift brought about by a pandemic that necessitates a united, definitive response. We are not fans of pain, suffering and death.  Well, most of us are not.  Our response has come incrementally and defined.  As we follow mandates from our health avatars, we agree to new expectations of ourselves and each other.  I remember that it takes 66 days to form genuinely new behavior, and think how the longer we maintain our new prophylactic lifestyle of social distancing, super sanitizing and obsessively mindful interactions, the more likely they will become the new normal.  By Mother’s Day the shift will be within us, inherent and complete.  We can call it Evolution.

Today’s image – I imagine this disruption of the many “normal” ways of being – be it economic, governmental or social – as a stress test for our capitalistic, consumer centered society.  We will find what is resilient and what is unworkable or just erodes away.  What serves us and what must be replaced or removed.  The cream rises, the valuable shines among the shards, the light fills the cracks of worry, fear and dysfunction.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

2020 Pandemic Journey Day 44

May 4, 2020 Today’s idea – What has the fog of our modern conveniences begat? I read an article last night published in 1950 by Berton Roueche’ titled The Fog . In October 1948, a toxic smog settled on the borough of Donora, PA. This town is tucked away on a meander of the Monongahela River in the Allegheny Mountains.   During that time, it was home to three huge mills, a steel plant, and a zinc and sulfuric acid plant. The towering factory stacks of these industries pushed out thick plumes of coal smoke all day and all week. Also, given the town’s proximity to the river, boats and trains added their emission to the cocktail. To seal the deal, Donora sits in the topography of secluded bluffs and hills that allow for little or no wind to carry the smoke and fumes out of town.   So the place was known to be a smutty, smokey mess, tolerated by residents who referred to the sulfurous stench as the smell of money. On this weekend in October, a thermal inversion put a tighter li...

Covid19 Journey Day 20

April 10, 2020 Today’s idea – Maybe we’ve needed this for a long time.   To be stopped so we could take a long moment and assess what is alive in us and what is mere rote living, what is unnecessary and what really matters; what we carry by empty habit. To know that busier doesn’t make us more worthy- a good work ethic is not to be confused with constant motion.   We’ve needed this to   learn how to be together as family again, to sit together in conversation, to listen to one another, to play and read together, help solve problems even do homework together, cook together, sit around a table again. And to say to each other, here are boundaries, this is okay and that is not okay because we do that for the ones we love. We needed this to understand that isolation can be hard on some people sheltering in place, the abuser with the abused,   those that must shelter alone, those who need consistent home care for a chronic illness or condition, the family receiving h...

Death Might Be Just A Holy Rend

  Death Might Be Just A Holy Rend And life a faithful pillow - a pillow to go flat, a spirit to drift off,  glaciers to melt and raise the sea. The blueprint is clear - Expect a tiny storm of mercy–  full of crows and bottle flies to debride the corpse,  to tithe the land.      And respect the putrid demise - things that fall apart make space for miracles.   Yet there persists the memory of breath rinsed in lavender and salt air. Then the dreams for blood and semen to revive, to metabolize  every tired, sad gospel into a hatch of octopus. Death confesses everything as she conjures her necrosis, as she feigns redemption, fools us with false devotion. She believes our defiance will set her free.   We must let grief to be the thread and needle to darn the rend, renew the cloth. then we can grasp the nascent green of winter wheat in spring.