Elizabeth A. Havey's Blog, page 14
June 21, 2020
“FRESH AIR” INTERVIEWS A SCIENTIST ABOUT COVID19
“Make this an epidemic of kindness, that’s really being social.” Michael Osterholm
Teri Gross, known for her interviews on the NPR program, Fresh Air, recently interviewed Michael Osterholm. Who is he? An American infectious disease epidemiologist, and the director of the Center for Infectious Disease Research and Policy at the University of Minnesota.
Osterholm has street cred in the current Covid19 pandemic. So if you are finding the information coming at you from many sources to be confusing and downright depressing, like why do cases go up and down; can we tie it to reopening the economy and where the hell are we right now? The information he has provided might help.
THE BIG PICTURE
Osterholm discusses the process, suggesting that we step back and look at the overall picture: to do that, we have to use influenza as the model.
We all know that with the influenza or the flu virus there are different strains. The scientists that create the flu vaccine for a given year do their best to create one that will cover those various strains.
THE FLU MODEL: there is that first wave in autumn, and then often the influenza virus drops off, goes away; but then there is a second wave, starting in January, though that too drops off and eventually goes away. It’s spring and allergy season starts! It’s always something.
But here’s the thing Osterholm says: we don’t know if this is happening with the Corona Virus in the United States. But we do know: cases will go back up again; it’s the behavior of the virus in addition to the behavior of humans.
SACRIFICING TO STOP COVID 19.
Osterholm stresses the importance of social distancing. “If we follow the rules with social distancing and masks, cases should disappear in the next 2 months. But then, we would have a second wave that could be much worse affecting 5-7% of the population. And keep this in mind, the virus will not slow down until 50-60% of the population have been affected, have antibodies to fight off the virus and thus supply us with herd immunity.” (If you are unfamiliar with herd immunity, go here.)
As Osterholm agrees, all of this is very sobering—the numbers, the time. It’s as if we humans are having a race with the virus that is driven by a biology we cannot control. The virus is going to keep happening and the only way to control it is a vaccine. Why? Because the vaccine will make every individual immune to the virus without getting the virus.
But Osterholm admits that currently the American people are confused as to what to do and how to do it. Flu pandemics can last for years; so we have to learn how to live with this virus; we can’t let this virus run like crazy! And why you ask– because our healthcare system cannot handle it! PEOPLE WILL DIE.
in Florida a health dept. worker was asked to report a low patient number, alter the real numbers; she refused and was fired.
this is the worst pandemic since 1918; and the worst economic problem since the Great Depression.
we are a divided nation. Osterholm gets nasty emails, threatening emails, as some people believe it’s a conscious effort to destroy the economy and the current government. The virus is the seed of painful accusation and beliefs. Somewhat like HIV-Aids.
yet this is different: people are making up stories to fit the narrative. That’s how we have come to live with those who have an alternative purpose–those in the Antivax Movement. Olsterholm states that a year from now kids will suffer, because we have stopped our vaccination efforts to keep children from getting measles. Out of fear and pressure, many kids will not get vaccinated. Public health has had to focus on COVID and not water, lead poisoning, vaccinations, sexual transmitted diseases etc. So just wait!
Under Trump, the workings of the CDC who passes important information to local health departments across our nation, has been hindered, blocked, forced into some phony submission. One result: the many antibiotics that we currently use will become resistant to bacteria, because the necessary passage of research and information is not progressing.
A BIT OF COMFORT…SURFACES PLAY A SMALL ROLE–IT IS ALL ABOUT AIR!!
Osterhome admits that our situation is evolving. Cases of the virus go up and down; it becomes hard to tie it to the reopening of the economy; again think of the influenza model. One wave then another. Scientists are recording all of this, searching for the right model.
Osterholm stresses the importance of distancing. We are actually in a race with the virus.
Surfaces play a very little role. He believes we have gone overboard, which is unfortunate–because it really is all about Air.
Wash your hands, but no one needs to be frightened of their physical environment, like mail, packages, print magazines. Osterhome doesn’t worry about food.
IT IS THE AIR THAT WE SHARE. THUS…Distancing is important.
LET’S LOOK AT RECENT HISTORY…
In reference to the fact that we are 2 weeks out from massive protests, Olsterholm stresses that we have not seen major increases in cases in cities with protesting. The virus disintegrates in the air and so there is a lot less exposure. But tear gas and smoke, yelling shouting can get the virus into the air; also being arrested in holding cars and up against others can certainly pass the virus, though we are not seeing an increase yet.
He did mention the rally in Tulsa that occurred this past weekend. A possibility of rising numbers:
19,000 people;
Trump does not wear a mask and as we saw, most people didn’t either;
attendees had to sign a liability disclaimer; crazy, crazy;
indoor air and large crowed sharing air–sets up a viral storm;
loud voices, singing, shouting, enhances the virus. It’s putting gasoline on the fire.
people from the rally go home on buses, cars, planes, infect others;
where is personal responsibility;
over 600 healthcare workers have been infected and have died;
Osterholm mentions 400 healthcare workers who got infected at work and died, without an underlying health condition;
so we as a nation are putting each other and healthcare workers at risk when we don’t practice social distancing and wear masks.
FINAL MESSAGE—Don’t risk your own life. Don’t risk the life of others.
It’s like driving, if you are careless and crash into someone else, you might kill them. We have to hold people accountable. That should be the only waiver–and we all need to sign it. PLUS our government needs to tell the public the truth, because even if they fail to do so, THE VIRUS WILL EXPOSE THE TRUTH.
FINAL PRACTICAL ADVICE: AIR FLOW!!
Increase the air flow where you live. Wind is cleansing the air; inside you should have fans to move the air; open car windows; closeness can be related to the time you are exposed to a cough or a sneeze. There should be ventilation in buildings. Remember that when talking, you can actually see the aerosols fill the room; so a fan that moves the air is smart; YOU CAN EXHAUST THE AIR OUT; replace with clean air; adjust the amount of air that comes in and goes out.
FINAL THOUGHT: being separated from family is hard. Osterholm really doesn’t go anywhere, but he doesn’t like the term social distancing. He prefers physical distancing–that’s fine. Because we can still keep in touch with the people we love. And we can turn things around. So wear a mask, follow the rules. Make this an Epidemic of KINDNESS–that’s truly being SOCIAL.
Photo Credit: World Economic Forum
June 14, 2020
INCREASING the GOOD in the WORLD
I really do believe that there is much good in the world. But lately, I think we are finding it in different ways, in strange ways, because so much has highlighted our divisions because of COVID19. People are reeling from change. Some are suffering: a trickle down effect that now feels like a tsunami. The small business you either own or work for closes. Your income, your savings dwindle. You can’t pay your rent or your parent dies and there are funeral expenses. NONE OF US CAN KNOW just how Covid 19 has affected the people we meet on the street, in the store, or who are raging online.
But I know that MY LIFE IN THE LAST THREE YEARS... has been devoted to my family, my writing, my garden. And yet it has often found me angry.
Yes, I’m confessing. But, the only people who truly feel my anger are my patient husband and the relatives who agree with me. And my readers. (Thank you Readers.)
I did try to keep my own life on an even keel as I watched so many good things about the United States government being wiped out.
As I watched as men and women who were actually AGAINST a certain federal department were hired to run it–do everything they could to destroy its basic principals so that folks depending on getting help with school loans discovered they were out of luck.
Or those who believe that protecting the environment is crucial, who want to keep the earth healthy, watched as one by one protective measures were vetoed or quietly removed by the Department of the Interior. And those are only two examples.
WE KNEW THESE THINGS WERE HAPPENING. And If you cared to discover the truth, it was available to you. But many turned their backs on these changes because they believed in maybe one aspect of the current administration’s plans. I call that throwing the baby out with the bathwater. I call that being blind to the needs of all citizens.
REACTIONS TO GEORGE FLOYD’S DEATH
And then the disgusting and disgraceful murder of an American citizen, George Floyd, by members of the Minneapolis police department, occurred. People took to the streets to protest. And after some took advantage and looted, the tenor of things changed, people were bonding, coalescing, singing, and protecting one another from the police who sometimes used rubber bullets and tear gas to stop or control American citizens. I thank our citizens for their emotional power, for their coming together to protest, for their honoring a man who needlessly and cruelly lost his life at the hands of police.
SOME TAKE AWAYS…So what am I thinking today.
I am grateful to family and friends who saw the wrongs that have been occurring in our country and who shared my sadness, my anger, my questions. How can this still be happening, I keep asking? At the beginning of these last three years, there were people in my life who voted for 45. I tried to make them my friends, regardless. But I heard statements like:
It will be fun to have DJT for President. Again, that’s not why we vote, to be entertained.
You just have to let that go. Being told that when I confessed I was depressed about the situation at the border–no!! I don’t let those things go if I know with my voice and my vote I can change things to where they should be.
FINAL THOUGHTS
I do believe there are always great things, good things happening along with the questionable, the disappointing. During these three years, I bonded with women who felt as I did and we worked with the League of Women Voters, volunteered to raise money for local charities, helped senior citizens, made phone calls for the candidates of our choice, and sent small toys and art supplies to the children at the border. I will always thank the Progressive Women of Congo Valley for their friendship and how we all bonded.
But life can sometimes feel like a MAZE OF DISAPPOINTMENT. First it was the president we got and now it’s the pandemic we got.
But yesterday, while trying to always be the good girl that my mother raised, I found my place on the red divider in the grocery store, six feet behind another woman. But then she turned. “Did I cut in front of you?” she asked. “Oh no,” I said across our space, “No, you’re just fine.” She smiled and faced her cart. But then seconds later, she turned around again, looked at me: “Are you sure?” I smiled. “Oh yes, I’m sure. You’re just fine.”
And then she went on to purchase her groceries, push her cart, wear her mask in this every changing MAZE we call life. I finished and followed, remembering that my mother always wanted me to grow up to be a “good girl.” DAMN, I’m trying. But sometimes you don’t know whether to be grateful or that it’s truly time to pour into the streets and scream: “THIS HAS TO STOP.” “LET’S GET TOGETHER AND MAKE MORE GOOD IN THE WORLD”
June 7, 2020
I LOST A FRIEND THIS WEEK…
Isaac finally was able to see all of his native country: Kruger National Park Safari.
I lost a friend this week, he died peacefully in his sleep. I wasn’t there when he left us, surrounded by his loving partner Therese, and many family members. But for me, Isaac Thapedi will always be alive in a special way. He allowed me to write about his life. He recorded his memories and I transcribed them, creating a few different versions–Isaac led an amazing life.
Isaac Thapedi was born in the township of Sharpesville, South Africa during apartheid. Living in a township meant that you were basically locked in every night. Yes, the men and some women could leave during the day, bussed into cities to work for the white folks. But they had to be returned by six in the evening, bussed back, locked in, prevented from creating their own full and true lives.
Isaac once told me: “When my parents were forced to move from one township to another, it was carried out in darkness. Families, belongings were loaded on trucks and buses, driven to the new place in the depth of the night, deprived the view of their native land.”
When you think about it, the white man had his reasons. Africa is a startling beautiful place. If native peoples were allowed to see more than a crowded township or a busy city, they might fall in love with anger, revolution. They might realize even more the value of the land that had been taken from them. Isaac was a middle-aged man, an accomplished physician, before he finally went on Safari–witnessed the rolling grasslands, mountains, wildlife that can power the heart, make one eager for freedom. Tyrants disallow love of country. They fear that native peoples will fall in love with the land that is their very identity. Much better to deny them, perpetuate another form of slavery. But I’m ahead of my story.
GROWING UP, THE FROG
Isaac was the only boy in a family of eight sisters. He slept right by the stove in the living area, avoiding the female bedroom. Each morning, after consuming the porridge his mother provided, he roamed the township, often getting in trouble as there was little to do. But—there were frogs and Isaac had a pocketknife.
One day he grabbed a big one, cut open its chest, then used a metal tab from a pop-can’s flip-top to spread the skin, examine the internal organs, study the beating heart. Later, he snatched his sister’s sewing needle and thread, and taught himself how to sew up the incision, then cut and do it all over again. That was the beginning.
Later Isaac would demonstrate this skill for his fellow students during the township school’s Show and Tell. He told me he was fortunate that the frog didn’t croak. But all of it fueled his desire to understand what procedures the human body might tolerate, might benefit from. “It was very early in my life, but it set me on a path,” Isaac said. “I wanted to be seen as an individual. I knew that being educated would allow me to achieve unique goals, to stand out. I might also be able to discover and create my own life, one my hardworking parents would never know.”
ALL YOU NEED IS A MENTOR
Isaac found mentors in his teachers and the editor of a newspaper he wrote for, Hank Schneider. And he found his pathway out of apartheid through the International Institute of Education. They agreed to sponsor him, educate him in the United States. Looking back on this trajectory Issac told me: “It wasn’t until much later that I realized the program devolved down to a kind of brainwashing—I was to be a spokesperson for America’s societal ideas. But being a black man, I often found those ideas directly opposed to my welfare and my personal philosophy.”
ESCAPING APARTHEID
Isaac had to escape South Africa in the darkness of night. He wore only the clothes on his back and “…carried the blanket I had cherished as a child. It bore the power head, the insignia of my Basotho Tribe, a symbol of authority that would remind me of my Bantu heritage which I did not want to forget.”
The drive from Sharpeville to the airport was fraught with worry as the Prime Minister of South Africa had signed Isaac’s paperwork, but done so when he’d been drinking. What if he remembered? What if a guard arrested Isaac at the airport?
But the plan went through and Isaac escaped, flew through darkened skies to eventually see: “the lady, the Statue of Liberty holding her torch, arising from a haze, surrounded by vivid blue water. I’d seen her in books, knew the words printed on her base—and now here she was, letting me know I had not only arrived, but I was free. I could lose myself in the land that lay before me. Now, no one could touch me.”
SO MANY ACCOMPLISHMENTS….
Isaac studied at Yale and Northern Illinois University. One summer, he went south to help fight American apartheid by sitting at lunch counters and asking to be served. After graduating from Howard University Medical School in Washington DC, he went to Canada to do his residency and choose a medical specialty: neurosurgery. Isaac continued to excel in his specialty working first with pediatric patients and eventually concentrating on the spine and the brain.
Later in his career, Isaac fell in love with my sister-in-law Therese, one of the most amazing women I have even known, a nurse who taught me nursing skills and advised me on so many health issues.
But now Isaac has left us, dying this past week after leading an amazing life. He did go back to South Africa to visit his mother and sisters. He was even interviewed by Nelson Mandela who saw what Isaac had achieved and wanted him to return to the land of his birth. Now Isaac is finally returning, his ashes to be buried in his native land by his mother and the father he never saw again.
Isaac struck a blow to apartheid by revealing to white America what a child of an African township can achieve and what a person of color can achieve–just open the damn door. Just give him a frog and a pocket knife. Or give him freedom and the chance to pursue his dreams–he’ll go from entertaining during Show and Tell to becoming an accomplished and giving American Neurosurgeon. Rest In Peace, Isaac. And thank you for sharing the STORY OF YOUR LIFE with me.
I am currently looking for a magazine, newspaper etc, to publish the full story of Isaac’s Life.
Photo Credit: Kruger National Park; and always, thanks to Therese;
May 31, 2020
More Like This….
We all make choices about what we will read, what television presentations or films we watch, how we will evaluate what is happening in the news. In today’s world of “fake news”–almost anyone with an opinion can throw us a curve ball. FACT-CHECKING helps. If you come across something you think might be false, you can go to various sources to confirm it’s truth factor. (I’m thinking news stories–better to have a few different sources before you think Obamagate is really a thing.)
Currently, I think we need to do that a lot. We need to stay calm, look for accurate sources and evaluate what we are reading and seeing. AND BECAUSE OF COVID19 AND THE DEATH OF GEORGE FLOYD, I am expanding on how that can take a wrong and a right turn.
When reading non-fiction that lands on the best-seller list, we are at the mercy of the author. His or her book could still be a vehicle of lies and BS. An Index at the back of the book often helps confirm that the author did research and what and who are the author’s sources. (Think childhood immunizations cause autism. It took a long time for those lies to be correctly challenged and disproved.) Because if the author is known for a certain stance on that subject, then you probably know what you’re getting–unless the book is a complete turnaround or includes new research.
Rebecca Skloot had credentials when she started working on the book that became THE IMMORTAL LIFE OF HENRIETTA LACKS. She attended Portland Community College to become a Veterinary Technician and then received a BS in biological sciences from Colorado State University, and an MFA in creative nonfiction. Her education prepared her for the ten years it took her to write the book which was on the NYT Best Seller list for two years and eventually made into a film.
Oprah Winfrey played the part of Deborah Lacks, Henrietta’s daughter, whose life was shadowed by the death of her mother. Henrietta died in 1951 at the age of 31 from cervical cancer. Henrietta had five children whose lives suffered after her death. And unbeknownst to this black family, a doctor at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, removed cancer cells from her cervix and these cells were able to reproduce outside the body in petri dishes at an astonishing rate. Called HeLa cells, they enabled researchers to make medical breakthroughs, one being Dr. Jonas Salk who is credited with the polio vaccine. SEE HOW REAL LIVING AND DYING, SCIENCE AND RESEARCH ARE INTERTWINED?
But there is a downside to this story–how it affected Deborah Lacks and her family. When you tell a person who is not a scientist that her mother’s cells are alive in a lab in Baltimore–complications occur. The Smithsonian writes: A postdoc called Henrietta’s husband one day…The way the husband understood the phone call was: “We’ve got your wife. She’s alive in a laboratory. We’ve been doing research on her for the last 25 years. And now we have to test your kids to see if they have cancer.” Which wasn’t what the researcher said at all. The scientists didn’t know that the family didn’t understand. From that point on, though, the family got sucked into this world of research they didn’t understand, and the cells, in a sense, took over their lives. Skloot in many ways was a gift to the Lacks family, explaining things as she learned them, comforting Deborah who helped Skloot with her investigation. Read the book! Watch the HBO presentation. In the age of the CORONAVIRUS, we need more like this.
NOW CONSIDER A WORK OF FICTION
Fiction, you make stuff up, right? But when an author takes on a topic that has complicated ramifications, a topic that the author does not feel she can speak to WITHOUT RESEARCH, then I applaud her for letting us know. Jodi Picoult, the author of 23 novels, did just that with her latest novel, SMALL GOOD THINGS.
The novel is about a black maternity nurse who is accused by a white supremacist for contributing to the death of his newborn son.
Picoult writes at the end of the novel: I expect pushback from this book… Believe me, I didn’t write this novel because I thought it would be fun or easy. I wrote it because I believed it was the right thing to do, and because the things that make us most uncomfortable are the things that teach us what we all need to know.
In her review of SMALL GOOD THINGS black author and critic Roxane Gay writes: ‘A writer is like a tuning fork: we respond when we’re struck by something…If we’re lucky we’ll transmit a strong pure note, one that isn’t ours, but which passes through us.’ To the Black people reading SMALL GREAT THINGS – I hope I listened well enough to those in your community who opened their hearts to me to be able to represent your experiences with accuracy. And to the white people reading SMALL GREAT THINGS – we are all works in progress. Personally, I don’t have the answers and I am still evolving daily.
I thought the book was well done. It was a page turner and though it tied up things a little too neatly at the end, I did trust Picoult’s research. In the back of the book, she delineates exactly who she talked to on both sides of the situation.
Roxane Gay also writes in her review: And therein lies the true challenge of writing across difference, or of writing a political novel — if the politics overcomes the prose, then it becomes something other than a novel. (Maybe that’s one way to reach an audience that needs to be reached)
Picoult writes: There is a fire raging and we have two choices: we can turn our backs, or we can try to fight it. Yes, talking about racism is hard to do, and yes, we stumble over the words—but we who are white need to have this discussion amongst ourselves. Because then, even more of us will overhear and then, I hope, the conversation will spread. (Picoult even provides her reader with a list of things you can do to get invovled.
Roxane Gay concludes: It is, in the end, the author’s note that leaves me feeling generous toward “Small Great Things” despite its shortcomings. Picoult wanted to write about race in contemporary America, and she does. The novel is messy, but so is our racial climate. I give Picoult a lot of credit for trying, and for supporting her attempt with rigorous research, good intentions and an awareness of her fallibility.
YES, again we need MORE LIKE THIS…because again, fires are raging. Evaluate, think. Check your sources, CHECK YOU HEARTS.
photo: The New York Times
May 24, 2020
COMFORT—IT HOVERS BETWEEN YES and NO!
As I write, there are birds singing outside my window. The sun is shining. It’s in the seventies. A perfect California day. Comfort, YES. But it can quickly change to NO.
But there is also the unknown. That Life is not normal. (And please don’t stop reading, because I’m not going to sigh and moan. I am going to search between the positive and the negative.)
Life is not normal because of the unknown, because the enemy is invisible and yet seemingly everywhere. Pinning it down to fight it is no easy task. Being positive during the fight is no easy task. I believe that’s why people are getting angry, and many have decided to just give up.
They want life to go back to normal. They want to say YES to their past habits. Forget all this BS about staying six feet away and wearing face coverings. They want to say NO, I’m not going to do that anymore or NO, I’m never going to do that.
And then it gets all twisted up in the politics. If I leave my house, go to the beach, eat in a restaurant, I’m living my true American life—I’m FREE to do what I want. Do what I damn please. That’s what freedom is all about. America too.
ACTUALLY NO
Freedom doesn’t work if there are no rules. We no longer live in the so-called WILD WEST where people were armed and shot others without a moment’s thought. Or enslaved others: minorities, women, children. Freedom now lives in our country, precisely because we instituted laws and rules. Things are regulated. The food we eat; the clothing we wear, the vehicles we travel in—all are regulated by laws and inspections. And yes, we have choices within the confines of those regulations.
COMFORT—YES
Only if you believe, as I do, in the necessity of regulations and inspections. They are part of your day to day comfort. If you’re told not to buy romaine lettuce because it’s contaminated—you don’t buy it. And you can’t SEE that on the lettuce.
Now we’re told not to be in crowded places with other humans because of COVID19. You can’t see the virus—same problem. So, I guess some people are comfortable buying the lettuce and going to the beach. It smacks of the same principle—this COVID19 virus thing. But I do know it’s damn harder.
COMFORT—NO
No, I’m not comfortable with denying the words of the scientists, medical experts. If I leave my house and go into a public place, I will wear a mask. Currently, a medical-type mask. Maybe down the road, I’ll be satisfied with a pretty cloth mask. We have immune system issues in our family. And this morning I decided—because there are more and more people deciding to deny the virus and challenging people wearing masks, that if someone comes up to me and starts that argument—I’m going to say right out: I’m immune-compromised. And hope they just take off.
I’m going to be like the RN who was standing in line at the grocery store wearing her mask and a woman, out of nowhere, challenged her.
“You think that thing is going to protect from some damn virus?” the woman said in a loud voice.
The nurse immediately turned to her: “Yes. But I am really wearing this mask to protect you. I just came from working in the hospital.”
The loud-voiced woman immediately took off. The comfort scale for her at that moment was a NO!
COMFORT—YES or NO
So where are you on the comfort scale? I have to tell you, Dear Reader, that it’s been tough on me. We are selling our home. What a time to have had strangers walking through. First, it was wiping down doorknobs and surfaces as soon as we could return home. Later, the state of California set up rules for realtors. That helped. But it’s still the last thing one could ever want to be dealing with—strangers in your house during a pandemic. Strangers making comments on forms after an inspection: you left a nail in a wall; you’re one window doesn’t open easily and there’s a line of chipped paint on that window sill. OKAY!! I just want to tell them all to get out of my house. Leave me alone. Let me shelter in place. I can handle this. I have been handling it. And yet, soon, it will be me looking at someone else’s home. I guess that’s just the way it is. COMFORT is somewhere in the “we are living in challenging times” middle. PLEASE, stay safe and share your thoughts.
PHOTO CREDIT: Charles Krupa/AP
May 17, 2020
WHERE ARE THE WOMEN? WHERE ARE THEIR HEARTS?
Women are the nurturers. But where are they right now? Women are to be fountains of love–but where are there hearts? Has something changed?
Most of us know what being a caring individual looks like. We’ve seen it demonstrated in our childhood and/or adult homes. If not, we’ve found it in our friends, in books, films and our relationships. Being cared for, being honored by others beats in our hearts. It’s in our DNA. And because of that, we know how to rush to help a child; how to want to stop a child or anyone from crying. We know how to reach out, help someone in trouble, call, text, check on a friend. We worry, want to help. Again, it’s in our DNA.
Or is it? Am I being a sentimental fool and talking about a world that no longer exists? No, I think that world still exists, the desire to care is still there, but we are frightened. Every one of us. Things have changed.
IN THIS MOMENT
Never before have we had to think about who we touch, walk near. That we can’t hug someone, console another human being. ( I embarrassed myself during this past week, walking up too close to a neighbor I had not seen in a long time, forgetting the necessary distance. She had to remind me to step away. And this happened after months of knowing the rules, because it’s not NATURAL TO ME. Neither is seeing my grandchildren and not being able to hug them, or sit with my grandson and draw, or go outside and play basketball.)
And I get why in the grocery store, some people just can’t remember to follow the arrows. Maybe under their breath they are saying, “F-the arrows.” But at the same time they must know THIS IS SERIOUS BUSINESS. Or do they. I wonder. Because I have also never had to avoid a group of people and their conversation because even though they are living in the same world I am living in, they see that world in a totally different way. It’s frightening. It’s crazy. They make me crazy.
SO, WHAT I AM REALLY LEARNING…
I am learning that I stand with every healthcare worker in the United States of America.
Someone might be moaning that they need a haircut or want to have their nails done; someone else might be angry that they can’t hang out in a bar with friends; someone might be willing to brandish a gun because they are angry about rules, masks, social distancing. WELL YOU KNOW WHAT? With all the care in my heart, all the kindness that is part of me I say: TOO BAD. GET OVER IT. THAT’S WHERE I AM RIGHT NOW. THAT’S WHERE MY HEART IS RIGHT NOW.
And so I am dedicating this post to CELIA MARCOS, who ran into a COVID19 patient room without a N95 mask, because her patient had stopped breathing. Seconds count. There was no time to get the right mask. She subsequently died of COVID19.
And I wish to honor Dr. Mark Morocco who wrote about this loss: “I won’t take the chance treating COVID19 patients without proper PPE. To honor Marcos memory, no nurse or doctor should. The Hippocratic oath does not include a suicide clause…Call Fox News, tweet the president until he blocks you, stand up in your home office and make your voice heard. When they ask for a name, tell them you are Cilia Marcos.”
(Thanks to Dr. Morocco MD and professor of emergency medicine. His statement appeared in the LA TIMES. Read it a few times. Think about it. It will keep your heart open.) PHOTO CREDIT: LA TIMES.
May 10, 2020
Where the Words Come From
Someday It Will Be December
I’m a writer, and I’m asking where do the words come from. And many of you reading this are also writers. When we sit down to create, it can be a slog. And sometimes we ask ourselves: Who truly wants to read what is firing in my brain?
I think the answer is many of us do, maybe all of us do.
Because writing IS the HUMAN EXPERIENCE—–LIVING is where the words come from.
So today, while many of you are separated from your mothers because of COVID19, or deeply missing your mothers because they have left us–I thought I would offer some thoughts that might fire up a tear or two, or might stimulate you to write me back and say YES, I’VE FELT THAT. YES, THAT’S HOW IT WAS FOR ME. Because the excerpts below are all from the stories I have written–the experiences I have had, the emotion that boils over from those experieinces–from living.
SO, I OFFER: JUST A FEW SENTENCES. I won’t take up much of your time, and by the way, HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, HAPPY WEEK.
from: SOMEDAY IT WILL BE DECEMBER In the depths of July, Claire began to think about sex. Constantly. In the dense smoke of blue moonlight trailing along her bed, the child within her waxing stronger with kicks so definable she wanted to cry out “hey.” Because at first she had been in complete denial–but now the denial stage was over, she in thrall to the pregnancy…
from: FACTS OF LIFE Then my fourth-grader looks at me and asks: “Mom, do men always want to hurt people?” And I hold her and say, “No, Cara, no. There are wonderful men in the world. There are men who love their children and want to take care of them and their wives. They go to work every day to take care of their families. That man today was sick in his head…”
from: FRAGILE When she tucks the two of them in bed that night, they are exuberant. As she goes down the stairs to be with Adam, they call over and over the words, “Love ya, see ya in the morning, good night. Love ya, see ya in the morning, good night”… Tess listens, the words falling on her with their weight of wonder. And welcoming all of it, she holds them, keeps them like a charm her two have hung gently around her neck.
from PUMPKINS Though she could hear Heather’s chatter in the next room and feel the light and space around her, Rachel was still looking down, still seeing her mother-in-law’s face and remembering what a doctor once told her at a cocktail party. “You wouldn’t believe the number of children women are capable of having. Why even after they’re dead, you can cut open the ovary and there they are–all those seeds.”
from WHEN DID MY MOTHER DIE (Ruth is on the phone with her mother’s best friend. Both Ruth’s mother and the friend will die within the year, but Ruth is struggling with how to care for her mother.) Tears formed in Ruth’s eyes. She didn’t want Eleanor to leave her. “I want to say things to you. Before. Like thank you for being Mom’s friend, being my friend. Thank you for all the great talks we had and there was so much laughter. And you always liked me. I love you, Eleanor.” The birds were scattering now, climbing up the watery sky. “So bye now, Ruth. Be good, take care of your mother for me,” and the called ended. Ruth turned away, sobbing. But you’re so fortunate to still have her.
The above are all part of my collection A Mother’s Time Capsule ( available on Amazon) Photo credits, more photos on my Pinterest Board, BOOMER HIGHWAY.
May 3, 2020
I’M A FIERCE MOTHER BEAR…
You are a fierce mother bear and no matter where you children are living, at home or raising families of their own, you care about them. At least this mother does. And when you see decisions being made that might put them in harm’s way, or when you feel acutely the geographical distance that separates you—damn it can be hard.
But does it get harder when our technology has brought us closer? And then suddenly there is COVID19. I am only asking the question and I don’t believe there is an answer.
I do remember how expensive long-distance phone calls used to be. My mother loved her sons as much as I do my children—and one was living in LA and the other left the Midwest, moved to the east coast from college on. He worked, raised his family, and the only way he and my mother could communicate was through long distance phone calls. I’m sure she typed letters to him now and again–and he wrote back. Their love was always there—and she traveled to be with his family every Christmas. But that was it. The closeness we now enjoy through texting, email, virtual chatting—it just didn’t exist in that time.
Enter COVID 19. Wow, we are living in a new age, right? And it has its ups and downs.
Maybe your grown children have come home to live with you. In some cases that could be wonderful. In others, a “strain on you” if not a disaster for your relationship. Families can blossom being close. They can also yearn for going back to what was “normal.” Because the new normal can be hard to adjust to.
THEN THERE’S THE CURRENT SITUATION
Why is your son or daughter living with you? Why has your aunt moved in with you? We all have our strengths and weaknesses. We all have our boundaries. And right now throughout our country we are all being tested.
That’s where the Fierce Mother Bear part comes in….I want the children that my husband and I brought into this world TO BE OKAY. I want peace and safety for them, happiness and always the chance to work and to succeed. I want to make sure family members are okay.
Our son and future daughter-in-law have had to postpone their wedding. There were tears, worries, some anger. Expected, because it’s a big deal. Weddings are always a big deal and I want my son to have that, I wish him joy every day of his life.
LOOKING BACK, LOOKING FORWARD
But if my own mother taught me one thing, it is to bloom where you are planted, make the most of your situation. Find that block of sunshine and stand in it, smile. You are safe, you are well—tomorrow is another day. My son and his Love are doing that. They are joyful on the phone. They are zooming with friends. They are both working from the house they purchased. Blessings.
That’s not the case for everyone. Some families are separated by virtue of distance. It’s not East/West Berlin, but smacks of it. And some of us, either because of travel, or because of funding problems are now living with a parent or the parent is living with the child.
I have a cousin who had flown to visit her daughter—Covid 19 hit and she’s still there. I know they love each other–but the daughter has a business to run and the mother must miss the comfort of her own home–comfort being the key word. All of us can adapt–but there is a process. It takes time. And we pray that the adaptation we are now experiencing will not last forever.
WOW, CHANGE IN ALL SITUATIONS
Outside of politics, I was pretty damn happy with my life. My husband I were healthy, loved our home, enjoyed seeing our grandchildren. We could go to their plays and concerts, hug them, read to them, play games with them. Now they are six feet from us when we do see them. But we CAN see them. And when I miss my other daughter, her husband and my son and future daughter, we can zoom, text, email and phone–and the bills are doable. The ability to stay in touch is easy. At least for us.
REMEMBERING MOM and WHO YOU ARE
But because this is COVID19, many families are struggling. The tempo of life has changed in so many ways.
We love Mom, but both she and we are happy cause she has her own place. COVID changed that. Love visiting Mom or Dad, but no longer can because he or she is in an assisted living facility and no visitors are allowed? Love your sister or brother, but now one of them or both are living with you and the old conflicts have reappeared, acquired a new life–and what to do?
I am not a psychologist, but I do understand boundaries. Even being with my husband 24-7 requires that we have boundaries. They make for good living. So I guess the answer is that you pull from love, you call it back AND you combine it with your fierce mother bear. Because in some situations, there might be a struggle. You might have to speak up in ways you haven’t needed to for years. You have to claim your space–or maybe your time–“When you take your walk, then I can play the trombone. And when I take a walk then you can listen to that stuff you call music.” (Well, not the best way to say it.)
In all situations, it’s called living in the time of COVID19, and it requires all of us to protect the past. COVID19 can rip up your world. But if you have the opportunity to fight for what you had–even if it’s only SOME of what you had, but it was GOOD FOR YOU–then fight for it.
There is love in your heart, but there’s also that part of you that has gotten you through other struggles. Honor that in yourself, don’t forget to fight for the things that will help you survive, be that Fierce Mother Bear.
Artwork thanks to Katie M. Berggren Love her concept.
April 28, 2020
Just For Fun, Peeking Into Other Lives
Claire McCaskill–the kitchen is the place to be…
This will not be a contest, but my friend Anita and I were discussing how we now get to peek into other lives because of COVID19, and the way news is shared. We started laughing, because what surrounds you also says a lot about you. It’s truly the background of your life.
So question: if you suddenly were going to be on national television, would you be calm about where the camera was set up or would it be NO BIG DEAL?
Former Sen. Claire McCaskill of Missouri talks to us from her kitchen. That says much about Claire, who is warm, eager to share and a person for the people.
Trevor Noah’s place in New York City was sterile. When asked about a single candle holder on the shelf behind him, he said with a grin that it’s there to attack a robber. Sounds like Trevor.
John Heilemann is also in his kitchen with a bowl of fresh fruit and white cabinets. I guess he doesn’t mind that we are stopping by, because he always has a sharp opinion to share. Coffee anyone?
Chris Cuomo of CNN fame has had COVID19. But even before he became ill, he was broadcasting from his basement. It’s a nice basement, painted cream, with sofa-chairs in the background and a flight of stairs. He said he stayed there during his illness to keep his family safe, and we hoped there was a bed somewhere in another room.
Phil Rucker from the Washington Post has a lovely brick wall with artwork, abstract art and a table with fresh flowers. He comes across as a man of many and varied interests, as well as a damn good reporter. No wonder a certain person really doesn’t like Phil.
Donna Edwards, a former Congresswoman from Maryland, has a large black and white abstract work of art on her back wall. She also displays a bowl of roses against a light wall. I always admire how she dresses and her hair is amazing. This is a woman who pays attention to detail. We need that now so no one can put things over on us.
Dr. Irwin Redliner was interviewed about Covid19 and science. I was relived to see that his desk was piled with folders and his book case jammed with books. To me that’s science. If he had a clean desk, I wouldn’t listen to him!
Michael Steele, the former head of the Republican party, displays some plaques on the back wall of his office. He sits in a leather chair and his desk sports a colonial-style lamp. The only thing that truly comforted me (and I really like Michael) was the bust of Abraham Lincoln which he displays on a table against plain walls.
Robert Costa of the Washington Post is only 34, young handsome and a damn good reporter. Educated at Notre Dame and Cambridge, he seems to be living the grey-toned bachelor life. He has a lovely suede coach up against white walls and shutters. There’s a multi-colored throw on the couch and a bowl of orange flowers. Okay, Robert, show us your messy bedroom–or not.
And if I had to speak from my home, I would probably choose my living room. No way anyone is going to see my office and a desk piled with notes and To-Do lists.
Please share if during your TV viewing you’ve been surprised at the way someone revealed their home. Like Jimmy Fallon in what looks like an attic!! But probably is a separate building on a huge expanse of lawn and trees where he goes to hang out and film.
Take care, Beth
April 26, 2020
Connection in a Disconnected World
It’s COVID19 time and we are often on our phones and computers yearning for CONNECTION IN A DISCONNECTED WORLD. We are watching videos and messaging. We are getting updates on the news, and even better we are finding new recipes, jokes, photos to share–all those things being about connection. We humans can only live and thrive if we have that.
But here’s the question, were we disconnected before the virus? Has the virus created ANY upside as each day brings us deeper into this? My answer would be yes, there is an upside, but it only happens if we can get out of our way, if we escape OUR WORLD and open ourselves to someone else’s. And there’s a word that describes that action. Can you guess what the word is?
SO THIS MORNING…I read this:
AT 5 A.M. I watched my mother being buried. I was in my living room, the event capatured on Face Time by my niece from her car as if she were on safari.
When the cemetery workers took their tools and walked away…ten masked members of my family—the legal limit—came out of their cars…and positioned themselves eight feet apart…I could scarcely identify them…After about 15 minutes they all retreated back to their cars…I saw it all unfold on my phone as if I were a voyeur. The same phone I use to send inane texts with emoji at the end…When it was over, meaning when I got disconnected (as I had been all along) I was still in my pajamas…
I cried reading that. I felt human, I felt connected to this daughter losing her mother. READING DISCOVERS CONNECTION IN A DISCONNECTED WORLD. This morning reading did that for me. Film does that too. Especially when a film makes you cry. You feel human. Your tears are washing you in your humanity.
DO YOU CRY?
Crying is good. Do our leaders cry? I know our nurses and doctors do. I’ve watched them cry on TV. I’ve seen their unspeakable sadness. But here’s a question: do some people pick a profession so that they can sit behind a big desk, making big decisions that eventually control what others can and cannot do? Does it help them stay away from thinking about others?
(Sure, there are good people in all professions. And they do have those big desks.) But instead of just checking a box to vote for someone: I WISH I COULD KNOW THEIR PERSONAL EXPECTATION AND OBJECTIVES. I wish I could trust that they won’t lie to me, that’s not all about power. That they have a soul.
Do the nurses and doctors have power during COVID 19? Yes, a lot, if “pronouncing” is power. But the very fact that our government is guilty of limiting their professional protective equipment, their PPE, is a way of saying: You aren’t as important or as powerful as you think. You are basically handmaidens and handmaidens only serve others. Well, MR. ROGERS WOULD CALL THEM “THE HELPERS”…
But that’s it, isn’t it. We are living in a time when we totally rely on people who help and serve others. But we are living in a time with a government that looks down on people who help and serve others. Damn.
Is there an upside? We have to find one. The only answer I can ever find is that word I’m constantly writing about, even harping about, the one I alluded to at the beginning of this post: EMPATHY!!
A QUESTION...
Why are some people able to withstand the current quarantine and others are just wild and YOU WON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO angry. WHY IS THAT? If you have an answer for me, please share it.
P.S. Sometimes I just search the net and find: “Sweet Home Chicago” Or “I-I’m so-o in love with you…” and I watch him up on some stage singing. Again I cry. Then tell myself: we’ll have someone like him again. This too shall pass.
Thanks to the LA TIMES and to Casey Cohen for sharing her story. Her mother died on April 17 of complications from COVID 19.
Artwork: PHOTO CREDIT: art work, Edvard Munch The Dance of Life
