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.

Portrait of Dan Blake

This doesn't really look like Dan Blake, but it was fun to try.

I used to work with Dan Blake. He was a passionate portrait painter, and at one point painted my portrait. I think he's suffered some ill health in the past few years and I have lost touch with him. I wanted to try to draw his portrait, based on an old picture, and I'm glad I tried. I miss working with him. 

The Window in my Office (in partial color!)

I Love When People Show Me Things

A State of Regret

When I first started my job I was eager to help people. In the early morning when I had the most energy and caffeine, I would sit at my desk working, one ear cocked to the foot traffic outside my office, hoping someone would have a question.

My office is tucked between classrooms. Many people come around the corner and pass my door, but almost no one stops. 

I've learned to tell if someone is going to stop at my door by the way their footsteps sound. When I was first honing this skill it was difficult. Many footsteps sounded destination-bound for me, simply because they were going to the classroom next door. So I was constantly looking up, thinking someone needed me.

One day there was a student who really did look lost. He passed my door, examined the classroom next door, then backed out and walked past my door again. 

He looked puzzled. It was my chance!

But I was disappointed. He was merely dithering about entering the classroom.

I went back to my work, tensed for another helping interaction, but it didn't happen that day.

The next week I had the same experience. A figure radiating a questioning air passed through my field of vision. When I turned to speak, I was dismayed to realize it was the same guy. This time he seemed annoyed.

Over the next week or so I had to train myself to not react to this student. He really did seem to look puzzled every time he passed my door. I tried to chalk it up to youth, but it was more than that. He seemed to have a deeply questioning expression on his face, in his posture and walk, that spoke to me. I liked how he seemed to always be looking for something, and that the something he was looking for was going to always be good, like finding a fairy under a mushroom.

But I could tell he didn't want me to notice him anymore, so I worked on it.

One day, weeks later, I ran into him in a different part of the hallway before his class. This time he spoke, and asked me a question.

He started explaining something about his life, which must have made me panic, because I suddenly felt compelled to share my private perceptions of him.

Instead of comforting him, it seemed to offend him. Somehow my comment shut the rest of the conversation down.

After that semester I saw the student rarely, but each time he seemed to recognize me and feel threatened, as if he was preparing for another volley of helpfulness, or like he'd thought of a good verbal defense against my perception of him and was waiting to deliver it. I would try to avoid looking at him or walking near him.

I passed him on the road the other day, driving. It's been a few years since that encounter. In the time since then it looks as if he's tried to methodically wipe all traces of the questioning look from his face and posture. 

This probably saves him from well-meaning people like me, but it still seems like a shame. 

On the one hand, we have to prepare our face for the world. But I can't help worry that my offhand comment made him try to change himself. It seems like we have to hide so much of who we are anyway. I felt like I might have contributed, in some small way, to this muting and changing process.

I still hate helping people.

Birds at Work

Perspectives

Summary of time spent between posts:

Reasons Not to Finish a Project