Skip to main content

Covid19 Journey Day 35


April 25, 2020

April 25, 2020
Today’s observation – the future needs to become global. There is so much melding of synergy between countries and cultures, we are woven together with economics, entertainment, health, politics and finances.    I say this while sitting in a tiny global village of foreigners nested in the Caucasian-prone Midwest. How few years ago were the newly arriving residents considered foreign too? Our communication/journalists network works best when the lines that artificially divide us are allowed to thin. Global issues require global collaborative problem solving. It benefits us to look wider than the American Way when dealing with things like the pandemic and following global recession.  After all, the American Way is the world’s way.  Once we severed generational connections to place, where earth, wind, and water shaped not only our culture but our biochemistry, we surrendered much of what produces geopolitical identity. It is in the water. And as we have mingled with pilgrims from other places, like our parents and grandparents a singularity of purpose or character has had to evolve or become vestigial. It is for this reason, as I look for news of useful input about matters like the current health crisis, I have my eyes and ears trained on leaders that are not mansplaining the scene. I listen to Jacinda Arden, the millennial prime minister of New Zealand, and Chancellor Angela Merkel, the great mother from Germany.  I appreciate the way they can humanize the analysis of the science surrounding the new virus, and how they use it in their approaches when asking citizens to cooperate with important measures. (Of course, these two have to wrestle with alligators too). Still it is very gratifying to read about their thoughtful responses as compared with totalitarian methods like those of Narendra Modi’s or Jair Bolsonaro.  As far as I’ve been able to assess, extended heavy-handed mandates to rally the will of the people usually backfires with counterproductive consequences like neighborhood infighting or detrimental and polarized acting out.  We do not need this now. 

But I want to redirect this rant toward some lighter moments of homogenization from the day. It is a Saturday and a chilly and damp one, at that.  I decided it is time to cultivate a canasta culture, so I start by teaching a bevy of bright Vietnamese students this card game with Uruguay roots. To be fair, I did warn them that canasta can be engaging to the point of addiction.  They chimed in unison, teach us now! Joining us in the commons were Moroccan girls binging on a new Grey’s Anatomy season as they fast for Ramadan.  Meanwhile, a Chinese couple has prepared a delicious supper for us, and a couple of Mexican men delivered soil for our garden boxes.  In this picture, I see us as either all foreigners or are all citizens of the Earth. This is what we have always been, growing deeper with laminations of worldliness.  Maybe our growing populations, affluence and efficiencies in travel bring us together as never before. Nonetheless, here we are, and the viruses breaking loose from their traditional hosts jump around the world because we do.  They can be a strange and useful mirror.

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.