Category: covidtide (Page 2 of 3)

Saturday Things

February 6, 2021 / / 0 Comments

I got my first dose of the Moderna Covid-19 vaccine today. So far: soreness in arm, moderately bad headache, and fatigue. Otherwise, feeling okay.

My current project is a short story called, tentatively, “Things.” (Yes, I know. The title is completely un-evocative. It basically means nothing. However, there is a story-related reason why it’s called “Things,” but I realize that as titles go, it doesn’t grab anyone’s attention. So it’s a working title that will probably change once I’m done.)

I wanted to read a few hard-boiled short stories and watch a couple of films noir to get in the mood, but honestly, it’s been hard to find the time for any of that. I can watch certain old movies when my kids are around — musicals are usually safe, as are silent and screwball comedies — but film noir is one of those genres that is not appropriate for the under-six set.

Anyway, I watched so many films noir in my twenties and early thirties that I could recite many of them line-by-line, so it’s not like I don’t know the style and mood of these kinds of stories. But just for fun, I wanted to dive back in and reacquaint myself with these old friends. Maybe there’s still time. . . I’m only half-way finished with the story.  “Things” is one of those stories where I pretty much know the ending already, but I’m not sure yet how I’m going to get there or what it’s going to look like when I do. It’s a bit like knowing there’s going to be a car wreck, but not knowing how the bodies are going to end up. (Sorry, that was a morbid analogy!)

Today was also a great day because I made it through a week of using my new “habit schedule,” and so far, it’s been successful. Each day this week I’ve managed to carve out time to pray in the morning and before bed, read something spiritual (current books are the Pope’s new one and The Imitation of Christ), write in my writer’s notebook, read a book at lunchtime, enter grades/provide feedback to students, work on freelance editing stuff, exercise, stretch, and write something creative (either fiction or this blog). My not-every-day-but-a-few-times-a-week habits — doing some light cleaning, paying bills, and filing papers — were also a success.

I will say the methods outlined in James Clear’s Atomic Habits have been very helpful in this regard, particularly his advice to “make it easy” and “make it satisfying.” I use a habit tracker app on my phone (that’s the “make it satisfying” part), and I’ve rearranged a few things to make the habits easier.

For instance, before I go to bed at night, I make sure my writer’s notebook is sitting on the dining room table so that in the morning it’s ready for me to write in as I eat my breakfast. Another example of making it “easy” is that I put Swiffer dusters in various rooms around the house so I can just pick one up and start dusting if I have a spare moment. And finally, I set a daily alarm on my phone to ring when it’s time to enter grades and do freelance work. I’ve also tried to “habit stack,” where I tie a new habit to an existing one (like the habit of writing in my notebook while I’m eating my breakfast, or reading a book while I eat my lunch).

The one habit I might need to modify is the exercise one, because I used to exercise before I took my shower, but that made mornings too hectic, so I switched exercise to the afternoon, when I get home from work. However, that get-home-from-work time is quite busy too — the kids are excited to see me, I’ve got to change out of my work clothes and clean my lunch containers, start to prepare dinner, etc. — so my exercise time has been shorter than usual everyday this week (I’ve been breaking the “make it easy” rule). Maybe I need to move the exercise back to the morning and do it before my shower. . . (I hesitate to do this, though, because that means getting up earlier, and I’m already struggling to get up at 7:00 a.m.; 6:45 a.m. might be a bridge too far.)

Despite these few hiccups, I’m utterly pleased with how much I was able to get done this week, and with how much less stress I’ve had. I’m not particularly strict about my habit schedule as far as doing things at a very specific time, but I’ve found that having an outline for the day has given my life a pleasant rhythm. I know that I want to accomplish these various “little things,” and by doing them each day in small chunks, and at generally the same time each day, I’ve been able to accomplish quite a bit, even in just a week’s time.

“Replacing the objective of growth”

January 29, 2021 / / 0 Comments

Consider, for example, the distance between our need to protect and regenerate Mother Earth and an economic model that regards growth at any cost as its prime objective.

Of course, some regions — very underdeveloped areas, or countries recovering from war — need their economies to grow rapidly to meet their people’s basic needs. But in the wealthier parts of the world, the fixation with constant economic growth has become destabilizing, producing vast inequalities and putting the natural world out of balance. Unlimited expansion of productivity and consumption assumes human dominance over creation, but the environmental disaster it has brought about has shattered the assumptions of that thinking. We are part of creation; we do not own it: to some extent, it owns us; we cannot live apart from it. This crisis or breach is a sign of our time.

The disruption of Covid has turned the tables, inviting us to stop, alter our routines and priorities, and to ask: What if the economic, the social, and the ecological challenges we face are really different faces of the same crisis? What if they have a common solution? Could it be that replacing the objective of growth with that of new ways of relating will allow for a different kind of economy, one that meets the needs of all within the means of our planet?

Pope Francis, Let Us Dream, p. 60

Poem #6

January 1, 2021 / / 3 Comments

When my children are grown,

I will tell them

What it was like to hold them

When they were young.

 

The smell of their hair,

The fast beating of their little hearts,

The skinny arms, all soft flesh

And fragile bones.

 

I will tell them this

So they will know I remember,

That I think of it often,

Even though they are grown.

 

And now they are grown,

I can only hope for a brief

Scent of their hair

When we exchange a quick hug.

 

They are bigger than me now,

All muscle and firm bones.

Their hearts still beat, but I cannot

Feel them against my own chest.

 

But I will remember.

And I will tell them.

 

I want them to know

That I think of it often:

What it was like to hold them

When they were young.

I’m gonna sit right down and write myself a letter

December 22, 2020 / / 0 Comments

I lonely mailmanwas reading The Lonely Mailman with my kids the other day, and I started getting wistful about letter-writing.  I used to have a pen-pal when I was in middle school. He was Italian and lived in a city outside of Milan. We traded letters and sent each other pictures. He even sent me a mixed tape once! It was always so exciting getting his letters in the mail.

Honestly, getting letters and packages in the mail might be one of the best “ordinary” things we can experience in our lives. The mail comes six days a week, sure, but usually it’s junk or bills. But when we get a birthday card from someone, or an unexpected present, there’s always so much joy upon opening the mailbox and finding this small surprise. Think about why there are so many mail-order subscription services these days. And why people still subscribe to magazines. Getting stuff in the mail is fun. And getting a letter — a real letter, not just a card — from a friend or family member or pen-pal is a particular treat. It’s something wholly unique, and written in someone’s own hand, and bearing their own news and greetings. It’s marked with the stamp of care and time — the time it took to write, the care with which it was written. It really is a great act of friendship and love. In The Lonely Mailman, we see how precious such letters can be. Every creature in the woods is moved to a deeper friendship and understanding due to the letters they receive (I won’t spoil the surprise ending, though).

My other favorite letter-writing story is the one from Frog and Toad. If you don’t remember it (or haven’t read it), it’s basically another sweet tale of friendship, where Toad laments that he never gets any mail. Because Frog is his best friend, he decides to write Toad a letter and mail it to him. Unfortunately, Frog chooses a turtle to deliver the mail, so it takes days to arrive. But when Toad gets it, he’s  overcome with joy and gratitude. Getting a letter from a friend lets us know that we are loved.

I think I’m going to start writing letters to people again. Not sure who exactly I’ll write to (maybe my mother-in-law who lives four hours away), but I want to give it a try. I want to have the thrill of receiving something special in the mail, and even more importantly, I want to give someone else that thrill too. I think about what a world it would be if we spent more time writing each other letters, instead of emailing or texting or whatever. It might make us more charitable. Maybe more thoughtful. Definitely more connected.

Poem #5

October 12, 2020 / / 0 Comments

SAM

Hi, Sam.

Sorry I didn’t pick up when you called.

I was busy.

You were waiting, I know.

You’re so patient.

You wait out in the sun,

Thinking up metaphors for birds,

Explaining with verbs the

Contours of trees.

You sing better than me,

Your voice big and wide

Like the clouds.

Me, I’m muffled.

The laundry has me choked.

Dirty dishes don’t smell as nice

As the wet leaves.

I watch you picking dandelions

And I’m jealous.

I want to braid strands of grass

And eat fresh peas.

I want to gab for hours with you

On the phone, then go for a walk,

Under your hat, laughing at the

Antic squirrels, looking out for hornets’ nests,

Singing songs, arm in arm.

I miss you, Sam. Come back to my pen;

Help me fill the page.

Nonsense or verse, you decide.

I’ll wait out in the sun this time.

 

[The prompt for this poem is as follows: “Give poetry — how you view poetry, what poetry means to you, your poetry — a name. Give poetry a personality. Maybe a gender. Personify poetry and describe him/her. Now write a poem that suits your view or vision.” I’m not sure I *quite* achieved what the prompt was asking. This poem is more about me and my relationship to poetry. I have no idea why I chose the name “Sam.” It was one of those instantaneous things. I needed a name and I just thought, “Sam.” I’m not quite sure who Sam is… Samuel means “name of God” or “God heard.” Maybe there’s something there? It’s also ambiguous. Could be man or woman. Anyway, it’s Sam.]

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