May
28, 2020
This
week's observations and ideas – As the economic and social flood gates slide
open, I try not to get washed away.
There is a full spectrum of realities in this riptide of reentry. I was grateful to visit the nail salon for
more human touch – ahhhhh; and for the innovations that gave the salon a sense
of enhanced safety and hygiene: suspended plexiglass panels hung by fishing
lines between Pedi-chairs; plexiglass shields mounted on mani-tables. Masked
nailists have been the norm for a long time, but I showed my respect and
gratitude to them arriving in my cotton face shield too. I was not too bothered by the naked face in
the chair beside me because shields were up!
Word on the street is that restaurants and bars are packed and partying
like it is 1999. I expect that the CDC
will collect more data from these science experiments. I predict that it's the
servers who will newly join the "most at risk" essential workers list,
right behind the meat processors.
The
dog park has not opened yet, much to the not so silent dismay of my pup. Who would have thought of the wide-open green
spaces of canine playgrounds as risky viral hotbeds? But people lose themselves
when pets are playing and happy. June 1 is the reopen date for playgrounds in
Iowa. Soon come, Paddy, soon come. He gets
so easily activated by things outside his window perch this week; he even scratched
the paint and some plaster from a corner wall when I was out for a bit. The new crop of squirrels and chipmunks taunts
him.
I
broke through a personal wall of illusion this week by going on a date, my first
in decades. We met online and decided to get together to see what the energy
between us was like – what women do. She lives outside of Chicago, so it felt
necessary to honor some effort to social distance. This good intention shaped the nature of our
first forays of physical acquaintance. It
felt awkward and strange first to greet one another wearing masks, but there
you have it. That happened. The date was
mostly outside, we walked through a natural area in the burbs, sharing stories and
answering each other's questions. We studied one another's facial expressions
and body language, we listened. We reached out energetically and tried to push
aside presumptions and old patterns of flirting to see what else was there. We
could have tried to imagine how this date would have gone outside of a pandemic
– but as everything lead perfectly to that day, it is impossible to say how it
would have been otherwise. Maybe this
date would have never happened; chaos brought us here. Apparently, the new
normal has an appetite.
The
tide washed in another thing; I qualified for a COVID test. Nothing had changed in my world; all the
answers on my weekly survey were identical to the week before. Except when I
hit the submit button, "you qualify" appeared on the next screen.
Today I drove to the test site at a mall on the north side of Davenport. National
guardsmen wave me through a maze of New Jersey barriers that lead to a massive
canvas drive-through test center. KEEP YOUR WINDOWS CLOSED was the signage every
ten feet. Through the driver's side
glass, I showed my ID and the QR barcode, confirming a preapproved appointment,
to a gowned, gloved, and masked nurse. He checked me in and moved to the side
as another nurse - gowned, masked, and with gloves beyond her elbows,
approached my car. She asked if it was okay to do a deep swap insertion into
both of my nostrils. When I agreed, she told me to lower the window and handed
me two tissues. "Blow your nose, please." Out of a labeled slender zip
lock bag, she pulled a six or seven-inch cotton swab on a stick. "This
will feel uncomfortable, probably make your eyes water. I will need to leave it in about ten seconds."
I nodded and offered my nose. She slid
it so far into my left nostril that I felt it leave my sinus passage and hit
the upper back of my throat. As if commanded, my eyes instantly brimmed with
tears, but I held still. Removing the swab
felt worse than putting it in; I prepared myself for the other nostril violation,
held my breath, and tried not to cry. "Sweetie, you are doing great."
She returned a tinged pink cotton-tipped stick to the plastic specimen bag. I
thanked her, closed my window, and drove out.
I
did the COVID test for three reasons: one, for the experience (I am a science teacher),
second to contribute to the data, and finally to see if I am infected or not,
after sixty-eight days of quasi isolation.
In three business days, I should get the results. If I'm positive, that
means everyone in our global village will need to be tested, and then what? But
that would be a long shot, still…. I'm thinking next is to take an antibody test
so I can know what my relationship has been with this exotic creature anyway.
In
the lunar calendar, Ramadan has just ended, and we have been moving through the
waxing crescent of a rose moon. Zowie! In the first week, it has brought in
some big cataclysmic waves. My mother swooned
again and fell, bruising some ribs and long bones. This incident led us to
reevaluate if she would return to her home with me in June, and if she didn't,
then maybe I wouldn't go to Tennessee, a little wrinkle in time. But then there
was the George Floyd murder in Minneapolis. Another case of police escalating
an arrest of a POC to a death. Now people all over the country are pissed
off. The obscene and unnecessarily
violent judgment of these men in civic street power (whose mission is to
protect and serve) has many of us feeling choked with anger and grief.
Minneapolis downtown has become a war zone, infernos everywhere with nary a
first responder in sight, as the buildings crumble under the blazes. Atlanta,
Kentucky, New York, and California have formed a line of echo chambers calling
for justice and embroiled with their own unbridled and violent public displays.
I would not want to be a mayor or governor or police chief in these cities, but
I understand the primal need to act up.
A
family member shared a Medium essay – 75 Things White People Can Do for Racial
Justice. It was first written in August 2017
three years after we all rose shocked with the news of Eric Garner dying in a
similar way at the hands of his arresting officers. It has become a dynamic list
that grows month by month. It suggests white citizens to demand body-worn
cameras to be turned on immediately when officers respond to a call; to demand
that police take de-escalation training; to supply educators with books that
feature POC as protagonists and heroes; to work to ensure that black educators are
hired where back children are taught; to support black businesses; to look for
companies that don't use prison labor; to demand decriminalization of cannabis;
to demand legislators to require racial impact statements for all criminal
justice bills; to read Ta-Nehisi Coates' article, The Case for Reparations, and
A People's History of the United States
by Howard Zinn, and bell hooks' Teaching to Transgress; to decolonize our
bookshelf; to stop being silent about racist jokes. Just to name a few.
It
looks like the sweet rose moon has joined ranks with the rowdy New Normal –
they could be a Power Couple we should take seriously.
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