March 13 - This was the first day of restrictions.
March 16 - April 6. Libraries and pools are also closed.
March 14-17 Raphael and I went camping to Elephant Butte
March 18 - Raphael went to workout at the YMCA - that announced reduced hours and activities.
March 19 - YMCA closed
Raphael and I went to Sprouts Farmers Market at 7 am in order to beat the crowds. The parking lot was full. The cheerful cashier said they are buy all day. The morning was cold, 39 F. We bought some frozen foods — spinach, broccoli, peas, cauliflower, and berries; canned tomatoes, bread, ice cream, cabbage, celery, bananas, and some gallon jars of water.
We also bought a few groceries for Sue and Fred as their car is under repair. I dropped off the groceries on their porch and she put the money in an envelope and dropped it off at our door. We are taking social distancing seriously.
I started on a new patchwork quilt. Raphael went out to Big 5 and bought a couple workout props. I did a little cooking, tidying up and other domestic chores.
The spread of COVID-19 is accelerating across the country rapidly. It’s adding some stress and anxiety which I’m trying to fight by staying away from watching or listening to too much news. FB news hasn’t helped either. Even though there are some humorous posts, the subject is still the same.
I miss Kris and Preeti.
Thursday, March 19, 2020
Wednesday, March 18, 2020
The New Normal - Living with COVID-19
With long severe winters and snow on the ground for six months, summer days were treasured and spent as much out of doors as possible. One summer afternoon the kids and I were in the backyard when we noticed dark clouds on a horizon that stretched far into the distance. The big sky and wide open space gave one a literal bird’s eye view and though the clouds were moving in our direction, it was still a comfortable distance away. As it neared, a wind churned up the branches of the cottonwood and turned the ripening barley fields into an ocean of rippling waves.
The three of us stand enthralled by the approaching storm.
Kris suggests, Let’s wait until the rain reaches us.
The first raindrops are large and heavy as they smack into us and we instinctively run to shelter under the nearest lilac bush. It was the wrong decision as we are soaked to the skin in a few seconds, and we laugh raucously as we make a dash for the backdoor and safety.
Wuhan, China was deceptively faraway but the world watched as the contagion spread to other countries and now with alarm we step backwards into our homes for it is raining at our very doorstep.
Here’s how the COVID-19 storm began unfolding:
I bought my air ticket to Medicine Hat in November 2019, four months before I was to travel there to mark my son’s 40th birthday.
Feb 14 - I chatted with Safira. Plans in place.
March 1 - With Safira in mind, I expressed concerns to Kris about the risk of exposure from travel. Kris said he had not been keeping up with the news and that the subject had not been discussed. They didn’t seem to have any concerns. Safira was recovering from a recent illness. Plans still in place.
Ambiguity about whether to go or not plagued me constantly. I don’t see the kids often and I had looked forward to this trip for months. I was not ready to cancel.
March 7/8 - Talked with Kris who said that Safira had pneumonia but was being treated at home and that the worst was over. This was not good news and mentally knew chances of the visit were slipping away. Even though they were no confirmed cases yet in NM, none in MH and only one in Calgary, I was concerned about traveling through LAX. I was looking at purchasing a one way return ticket through CO which had no cases yet to avoid LAX. I told Kris that Preeti and I had talked about meeting in Calgary as Plan B. Raphael cancelled his trip to NYC and Wash DC and I was beginning to feel some pressure to do the same. Even though I told Kris it was likely I would not travel, I still held out hope that I might be able to go.
March 9 - I packed up the gifts for Kris and Safira and mailed the parcel at the post office. This act signified my decision to cancel, even though I continued to make mental arguments to go. Over the next couple days, I wept with disappointment but felt it was the right decision with Safira and Raphael being among the vulnerable populations. Even though Kris still didn’t think the visit should be cancelled.
March 11 - NM gets its first confirmed case. Kris cancels birthday visit with Preeti and Chris who were still planning to go.
March 12 - NM closes all public schools. I cancel my air tickets. Preeti has a bad day as all their alternate plans come to nothing.
March 13 - Preeti and Chris drive to a cabin in Northern Wisconsin near Lake Superior to hideout for six days. Just heard they’ve extended their stay as Chris’s school is closed and Preeti has the rest of the week off.
March 14 - Raphael and I go camping in Elephant Butte for four days.
March 17 - All public and private schools close in Illinois.
The three of us stand enthralled by the approaching storm.
Kris suggests, Let’s wait until the rain reaches us.
The first raindrops are large and heavy as they smack into us and we instinctively run to shelter under the nearest lilac bush. It was the wrong decision as we are soaked to the skin in a few seconds, and we laugh raucously as we make a dash for the backdoor and safety.
Wuhan, China was deceptively faraway but the world watched as the contagion spread to other countries and now with alarm we step backwards into our homes for it is raining at our very doorstep.
Here’s how the COVID-19 storm began unfolding:
I bought my air ticket to Medicine Hat in November 2019, four months before I was to travel there to mark my son’s 40th birthday.
Feb 14 - I chatted with Safira. Plans in place.
March 1 - With Safira in mind, I expressed concerns to Kris about the risk of exposure from travel. Kris said he had not been keeping up with the news and that the subject had not been discussed. They didn’t seem to have any concerns. Safira was recovering from a recent illness. Plans still in place.
Ambiguity about whether to go or not plagued me constantly. I don’t see the kids often and I had looked forward to this trip for months. I was not ready to cancel.
March 7/8 - Talked with Kris who said that Safira had pneumonia but was being treated at home and that the worst was over. This was not good news and mentally knew chances of the visit were slipping away. Even though they were no confirmed cases yet in NM, none in MH and only one in Calgary, I was concerned about traveling through LAX. I was looking at purchasing a one way return ticket through CO which had no cases yet to avoid LAX. I told Kris that Preeti and I had talked about meeting in Calgary as Plan B. Raphael cancelled his trip to NYC and Wash DC and I was beginning to feel some pressure to do the same. Even though I told Kris it was likely I would not travel, I still held out hope that I might be able to go.
March 9 - I packed up the gifts for Kris and Safira and mailed the parcel at the post office. This act signified my decision to cancel, even though I continued to make mental arguments to go. Over the next couple days, I wept with disappointment but felt it was the right decision with Safira and Raphael being among the vulnerable populations. Even though Kris still didn’t think the visit should be cancelled.
March 11 - NM gets its first confirmed case. Kris cancels birthday visit with Preeti and Chris who were still planning to go.
March 12 - NM closes all public schools. I cancel my air tickets. Preeti has a bad day as all their alternate plans come to nothing.
March 13 - Preeti and Chris drive to a cabin in Northern Wisconsin near Lake Superior to hideout for six days. Just heard they’ve extended their stay as Chris’s school is closed and Preeti has the rest of the week off.
March 14 - Raphael and I go camping in Elephant Butte for four days.
March 17 - All public and private schools close in Illinois.
Wednesday, February 5, 2020
The Worst Ever
Recently I've taken to asking myself the question, What's the worst thing that's happened to me? And when I look back over my life, I can't think of anything at first. It's like illness, or childbirth. Once the discomfort is past, the negative associations seem to vanish as well. I'm in good health. I spent the night secure from the cold snuggled in warm blankets. The larder overflows and I have the luxury of time to pursue anything I want, or nothing at all.
Eventually like shadows growing tentacles they creep back into my memory. The worst times seem related to betrayal. I have felt betrayed by others. I in turn have betrayed those I had a responsibility to protect and whom I love. But also shame and guilt. Perhaps they are all the same. Tears well up and I am distraught as the pictures of those times come back into focus.
I don't linger in this dark space but rather use it to contrast the peace and joy that now fill my life. I watch my husband, my loving companion and friend, through the doorway seated at his computer in the next room bathed in strokes of soft light like a Rembrandt. The mood is enhanced with the rise and fall of a piano concerto by Dimitri Shostakovich that wash over me in warm waves as on a sun-swept shore.
I read somewhere that the deeper the sorrow one has borne, the greater the capacity for joy. I like that. I like that a lot.
Eventually like shadows growing tentacles they creep back into my memory. The worst times seem related to betrayal. I have felt betrayed by others. I in turn have betrayed those I had a responsibility to protect and whom I love. But also shame and guilt. Perhaps they are all the same. Tears well up and I am distraught as the pictures of those times come back into focus.
I don't linger in this dark space but rather use it to contrast the peace and joy that now fill my life. I watch my husband, my loving companion and friend, through the doorway seated at his computer in the next room bathed in strokes of soft light like a Rembrandt. The mood is enhanced with the rise and fall of a piano concerto by Dimitri Shostakovich that wash over me in warm waves as on a sun-swept shore.
I read somewhere that the deeper the sorrow one has borne, the greater the capacity for joy. I like that. I like that a lot.
Wednesday, January 22, 2020
I QUIT
“I Quit” the title of a New York Times article jumped out at
me this morning and took me back 30 years to this very day when my husband and
I, having quit our jobs, and cashed out my retirement fund for air tickets,
jammed into five suitcases the remains of our material possessions after the
house had been picked clean by friends, relatives and neighbors, and quit the
only country we had known, landing on the other side of the world in a frigid
land to start life anew with our 9 and 6 year old children.
Knowing what I know now, would I do it over? Reflection is
an interesting trait that human beings possess and according to Socrates,
without it life is not worth living.
I walked away a few more times in the ensuing years,
pursuing a life that has shown itself to be increasingly rich with meaning, and
to that end I continue, but pause today with gratitude and love to the family
we were 30 years ago, and with the knowledge that we are still together in a
parallel universe.
Monday, January 13, 2020
Bell Rock Pathway
January 5, 2020
Bell Rock Pathway, Sedona, Arizona.
4919 feet at the top
The 4 mile loop around Bell and Court House is heavily trafficked and is what we intended to do when Andrew, Arturo and I started out at about 9 am. However, walking on a level path becomes pretty monotonous especially with the Bell in close proximity at all times. We thought we might scramble up at some point but couldn't wait to get to the easier northern side, so enticing were the slopes of the Bell. Andrew and Arturo started up the side of the Bell and we decided to meet farther ahead. After about five or ten minutes, I decided I didn't want to miss out on the adventure and started up the side as well. It didn't take long to catch up with them.
The rock sides are quite smooth and steep and one has to be patient to find the one that suits the hiker the best as there are many paths and cracks leading up to the next level. I must admit I needed a hand up in a couple places, but other than that fared well. My hiking shoes had excellent grip and scaling the sides weren't that difficult. However, about halfway up, I decided the let the boys continue without me. The view where I waited was terrific. Stretching for miles in front of me. A yellow-robed anglo swami sat on a rock nearby. His Sanskrit chants and clapping adding to the enchantment of the place.
The lower red circle is as high as I got. The circle above is as far as Andrew and Arturo got.
Bell Rock Pathway, Sedona, Arizona.
4919 feet at the top
The 4 mile loop around Bell and Court House is heavily trafficked and is what we intended to do when Andrew, Arturo and I started out at about 9 am. However, walking on a level path becomes pretty monotonous especially with the Bell in close proximity at all times. We thought we might scramble up at some point but couldn't wait to get to the easier northern side, so enticing were the slopes of the Bell. Andrew and Arturo started up the side of the Bell and we decided to meet farther ahead. After about five or ten minutes, I decided I didn't want to miss out on the adventure and started up the side as well. It didn't take long to catch up with them.
The rock sides are quite smooth and steep and one has to be patient to find the one that suits the hiker the best as there are many paths and cracks leading up to the next level. I must admit I needed a hand up in a couple places, but other than that fared well. My hiking shoes had excellent grip and scaling the sides weren't that difficult. However, about halfway up, I decided the let the boys continue without me. The view where I waited was terrific. Stretching for miles in front of me. A yellow-robed anglo swami sat on a rock nearby. His Sanskrit chants and clapping adding to the enchantment of the place.
Tuesday, November 13, 2018
Mozart's Requiem
Mozart's Requiem
I listened to a fantastic recording of a choral and orchestral performance Mozart's Requiem this evening. There are no words that I can find to describe the exhilaration, beauty and sadness of this work. A few of the pieces were familiar but much of it I heard as if for the first time.
I could not understand the words, my knowledge of classical music is very limited, and yet these are no obstacles to enjoying the music. It was absolutely breathtaking.
I sat down at my computer, planning to do something else with my earphones on, but I couldn't take my eyes off the performance.
There were parts that brought out such deep sadness. It seemed that every pain I had suffered was being remembered and yet, being able to feel it amidst such beauty somehow made it bearable and even worthy.
The joyful sections were magical and made me float. Every emotion that the music brought forth from within was pure and uplifting. It gave me hope for humanity and for this world in which we see so much negativity every day.
If we could only carry Mozart's song in our hearts everywhere we went, we would not, we could not harm another.
I listened to a fantastic recording of a choral and orchestral performance Mozart's Requiem this evening. There are no words that I can find to describe the exhilaration, beauty and sadness of this work. A few of the pieces were familiar but much of it I heard as if for the first time.
I could not understand the words, my knowledge of classical music is very limited, and yet these are no obstacles to enjoying the music. It was absolutely breathtaking.
I sat down at my computer, planning to do something else with my earphones on, but I couldn't take my eyes off the performance.
There were parts that brought out such deep sadness. It seemed that every pain I had suffered was being remembered and yet, being able to feel it amidst such beauty somehow made it bearable and even worthy.
The joyful sections were magical and made me float. Every emotion that the music brought forth from within was pure and uplifting. It gave me hope for humanity and for this world in which we see so much negativity every day.
If we could only carry Mozart's song in our hearts everywhere we went, we would not, we could not harm another.
Monday, August 29, 2016
The Moment
Margaret Atwood
The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,
is the same moment when the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.
No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.
It's the truth when I say I have never owned a piece of real estate. There was a short time in Alberta when we were new home owners. Not really, because the bank loaned us the money to buy it so I don't think that counted. For many years, in my mind, having and owning your own home seemed the ultimate goal. Everyone who could did, and those who couldn't dreamed and yearned. I'm sixty years old and I'm content that I don't own a house. In fact, I don't own much at all. And yet, I've never felt richer and more blessed.
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