COVID 19 Journal 4

March 18, 2020

I miss my mom so much! Tonight it almost seems unbearable to think of all the weeks I need to refrain from seeing her. 

There's a big hook inside me that gets hung up and wants to plan a walking get-together with her, or a park meet-up. It seems so easy because she's only an hour away and we all still feel well!

Atticus misses her, too, big time. This virus is cruel and humbling. I will have to be strong and put some hard stops on these feelings. It's time to pretend I'm at summer camp, or college--some time in my life when I didn't see her for long stretches. 

But those times were interesting--college and camp--with new experiences and things to learn. Now is a more sedentary, dull time when the absence of her weekly visit (such an integral part of our week here) is a loud absence. It croaks and groans like the setting on Atticus/Mart's keyboard that alwyas sounds like an empty giant's belly growling.

What Changed Today (or Lately)

• NATO closed its borders in some European countries to slow the virus spread
• County parks and libraries closed here (big loss for us, especially the park closings)
• I got approved for some bonus administrative leave until March 31, and had my last 2-hour segment working on campus.
• Trump Co. is trying to pass a stimulus package to help people who have been laid off

COVID 19 Journal 3

March 16, 2020

It's Monday night. Max is pouring water from a kettle onto coffee grounds in the kitchen next to me, making decaf night coffee. Atticus is asleep after an evening full of tantrum over not being allowed to control Max's music practice. He's having a hard time not being in school, especially after last week being out sick the whole week. 

They cancelled all NC public schools yesterday, the governor made a speech announcing it. A's preschool (a private school run from a church) followed suit, cancelling school through March 30. Today when I've driven through the neighborhood the kids are everywhere--playing sports activities and having little adventures outside, jumping off the hills of mulch on the nature trail behind Enka Village. 

A couple of weeks ago Max and I were bummed out about not being able to watch a movie on our first date in 3 months. Tonight that seems silly. That was when we felt okay having my mom out to cover us for an evening. Now we hesitate, because of her age, to risk her health. And we are afraid for ourselves, for either of us to get sick.

It was our first day with a quarantine schedule--I stayed home in the morning/early-afternoon to give Max time to catch up on work, tried to work a little myself on my borrowed work computer. Took Atticus to a carwash and let him sit on my lap in the drivers' seat. He hid his head and covered his ears through most of it but in the end said it was fun! We also went to the post office--maybe a mistake--to mail a package to cousin Julia. I went to the office later and worked in a completely empty Zageir Hall. The roads looked normal--people were out in good number like it was any old day, but tonight when I drove back from taking A. to the doctor (again) for ear infection, the roads were kind of bare. Bare as the good-foods sections of the grocery store aisles when Max went shopping at 8 p.m. tonight.

It was only our first day of half-quarantine, but it felt long, and by the end I was despondent thinking of all the things I can't do anymore (eat at restaurants, grab a pizza from Little Caesars on the way home with A. from the doctor; coffee shops and the gym, bluegrass jam, contra dance, dream group, visits with family and friends). 

In the day I can kind of keep up some cheer and try to lead Atticus through this time, but by night I feel lost. 

There are many more countries than what I'm putting on this list. There are places on this map that have no red dot (indicating sickness) at all, but may just not have reporters or people to tell what's going on there.

Things that Changed Today

• Atticus's pediatrician office is cancelling their 8 a.m. clinic. The building is deep-cleaned overnight so they're reserving the mornings appointments for well children, and scheduling sick children in the afternoons.
• There was no bread in the bread parts of Ingles grocery store.
• At work, even though there's no one else around the air feels too close, and poisoned somehow. The only air that feels safe to breathe is air at home, or anytime I'm outside.
• First case related to my county (Buncombe County). A man from New York spent 5 days here last week, got sick and got tested here, then went to quarantine in Macon, NC.
• Governor Cooper's executive order limits restaurants to takeout and delivery only (March 17)

COVID 19 Journal 2

March 15, 2020

Data drawn from Arcgis which for a time was accurate

We have been practicing social distancing in name, and in physical distance between people, but we've seen so many people this weekend.

It's so strange not to hug people. Rachel came (to our house! live and in the flesh!) and we couldn't hug her. It felt like eating a hotdog without the hotdog, like just eating the bun. Same with my mom when she came through, and Max's Virginia family. 

We stood in the library annex visiting with Max and his half-sister Caroline, her husband Bill and their daughter Anna. Max's mother came later and joined us. We were there to celebrate Max's photo exhibit opening, exquisite images of WNC waterfalls taken with a pinhole camera and printed in liquid-smooth shades of black and white.  The official reception was cancelled the day before the event, to protect everyone from each other's germs but it was a real shame. Max worked so hard on this; I know Bronwen must have, too.  Some folks had planned to come (like his Virginia family) anyway I think, which meant a lot to us.

We were keeping some distance between each other as we talked but my eyes were hungry for people's faces-- Max's sister's animated face, her hair and eyes and how she sets the room spinning when she talks; his cousin Anna's face, just as lively and with so many thought-balloons around her head that I can never quite read. 

Max's mother joined us, to my delight, wary at first of A's recent cold but so glad to see people she was soon running with A. around the mostly-empty room, making laps and challenging him to a race. It was such a quick burst of people and emotion I wanted to collect them all like eggs and put them in a basket for later. 

COVID 19 Journal 1

Wednesday March 11, 2020

shopping lists & receipts

It's a coming-together time, in spite of folks keeping their distance. For the first time ever I find myself wanting to hear news straight out of people's mouths instead of reading it. Personal reports feel more truthful. At the bluegrass jam last night, a mandolin player said his son at UNC-Chapel Hill said it was closing already, but today I couldn't find any news about that. Stilll it seemed more relevant than the NY times briefing I get in my email, which is usually about what President Trump is doing (or not doing) about any of this. 


I think now, too, of all the Latinx people stuck in holding facilities at the border and how quickly the virus would spread in those conditions. There are so many stories that will not be told with this virus, because there will not be people to tell them. But the Diamond Princess cruise ship off the coast of California gets press.

Italy now has a 6% death rate, not because of the virus per se, but because healthcare systems are too overwhelmed and people are dying in the halls. 

UNCA is going to extend its spring break another week, then go to online classes for a period of time until early April. the campus is still expected to operate but students are encouraged to not come back, to shelter-in-place wherever they are. This will be hard for some. A lot of students don't have other places to go. I'm so glad they're extending break another week. It will give people (professors and staff helping them ) time to plan what they're going to do. 

I'm glad I'm still well and haven't caught Atticus's cold yet, and can go in to work tomorrow. Max is willing to keep A. home from school another day as his cold is still very bad. I'm worried about his cough, which is stronger than his coughs usually are.

I left work early so Max could go fishing in East Fork. It would usually be a Mamaw babysitting afternoon but we are trying to keep her away from Atticus's cold. She's planning to come out Saturday for Max's photo reception, for his and Bronwen's exhibit at the library.  I hope that, magically, no one gets sick from this event.

I tried taking Atticus out to the back yard in the beautiful weather today, but he got scared of bugs. I think parks are going to be our saving grace during this time that we can't go to our normal places (the mall, the airport, hotels, Barnes and Noble, museums, Mamaw & Uncle Brackie's house). 

It's hard to prepare for sleep at night when all these worried thoughts are here.

Body

Thanksgiving at my aunt & uncle's house

My aunt and uncle let us come visit them for Thanksgiving. They live pretty far away, so we split the drive into two days. During the drive, Atticus needed regular reassurance that we were still on course.

My aunt and uncle have lived in their house for the entire time that I've known them. For some reason it took me until now to realize how special this is. It's rare to have a place in one's life where you've gone, off and on since childhood, and have always been met with love and acceptance for where you're at in your own development as a human being.

During the fall of 1997 I briefly lived with them when I was about 20 years old. They let me come work for their company, which satisfied the work requirement of the college I was attending at that time, and gave me some valuable work experience at a young age. 

I don't remember feeling very strong at that point in my life. I was afraid of a lot of things and felt generally unequipped to handle the world.

They were very kind to give me a place in their home and a space to work in. I remember riding into work with my aunt most mornings. We parked in the bottom of the building and took the stairs (or sometimes the elevator) up to the office. It was my first office job.  

It was a strange time. I was attending a college and entering adulthood, but I didn't feel like I was doing either one the way it should be done. I mostly had the feeling that the whole plan I'd created for my life's success was failing because I wasn't as great as I thought I was. And it sucked. I didn't have any skills built up to make my way through that time gracefully.

In a show of support for my intelligence, my uncle tried to give me advice about the world and money.

Entering their house this November for Thanksgiving, I had no idea that I would remember that specific time from earlier in my life. But a lot of those memories came back. It says something about the magic of their home that I can return 21 years later and remember that earlier time with some humor and forgiveness. It also speaks to the remarkable nature of my aunt and uncle and how they've welcomed me and loved me each time I've been there. 

This was a potentially difficult trip to make with my little family of three. It was a lot of driving, and two hotel stays, and a new environment for Atticus. I didn't know how all of that would be, but I knew how I'd feel stepping into my aunt and uncle's door. The feel of the door handle in my hand, and the steps up to the door. I knew how the inside stairs would feel under my feet, and the rugs, and how the cabinet doors would sound opening and closing. I knew how the different parts of the house would make my head feel a different way as I passed through each of them, the upstairs bathroom (with the skylight) always a little warmer and moister than the rest of the house, the skylight making it feel like you could stick your head up over the roof and look out over the city.

And I knew how it would feel to hug my aunt Jake again. 

I also know if I'm just now appreciating all of this in a more deep way than before, that it may mean it's not going to last for the rest of my life. Which makes it doubly worth writing about. 

Flood

Breaking Loose Like James

As the year turns over and a new one begins, I've been thinking about my uncle, my father's older brother James. 

Some things about my uncle James:

I never knew James well. He visited us a few times when I was growing up. He had a steady, non-caustic presence to be around, and was always kind to me. He and my father had a certain grit about them that made sense when they were together. It made me curious about who they were, and who they weren't, and the different ways that siblings could be connected but also, at the same time, totally disconnected.

James was somewhat famous in my family for having committed a crime. I guess you could say it was a crime of passion, but as a kid it was hard for me to imagine him having that much passion. He seemed so calm and regular. He was a tall, broadly-built man who moved slowly and smoothly. When he visited he mostly sat on the couch. He seemed completely at-ease, but at the same time I got the feeling that he was completely not at-ease. It was as if he existed on two different planes.

James's crime was robbery. He didn't kill anyone to do it. I think he just knocked the other guy out and ran off with the money.  In my mind there's the story of the crime, then the story of the days or weeks after the crime, and then a period when he served a sentence after turning himself in, which I knew almost nothing about.

The visits to our house, I think, occurred after all of this. So it was as if those experiences of James' were no longer relevant. It was such an effort for anyone in my family to socialize with anyone else that an individual's past traumas and crimes were politely disregarded. Instead we grappled with the anxiety of being in each other's physical presence and talking like normal people.

James visited less as the years went by, and we did not go to visit him. I heard less and less about him. He was never able to quit drinking, which affected his health. I had no direct experience with this, just stories from my father, which by the time I heard them already seemed several times removed from the source.

James's health declined, and he died during a time when my father was travelling in Alaska. My mom and I went to the funeral. I was ashamed that I hadn't tried to get to know James better, or any of my father's family, as they all felt like strangers to me.

I've been thinking of him, in part, because I met his oldest son last year, and it was truly one of the best experiences of my year, or possibly of the past ten years. David is a remarkable man with a beautiful life, and a lot of his father (and mother) lives on in him. I hope to be more like him when I grow up.

I've also just been thinking of James in light of the fact that he committed a crime. On some level he dramatically broke with tradition and ordinary responsibility. This year, when I'm travelling the same paths inside my head, all leading to the same direction, it's somehow helpful to think of James. Not that I want to do anything illegal, at all. I guess it's just fun to think of what other things could be done.