Lazy W Marie

Carpeing all the diems in semi-rural Oklahoma...xoxo

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globe trotting & soul searching

Kaanji granted me a Zoom conversation on her Saturday morning (in Oklahoma I was Zooming on my Friday afternoon). She had just woken up in her childhood bedroom, in Melbourne, Australia, where she has been staying since last autumn. It was raining there. She was looking forward to a quiet day and a series of other Zoom calls with her friends in far flung places, including Gen and Julia, who I have to thank for this fun introduction.

As soon as we exchanged excited pleasantries, Kaanji grabbed my hand and without warning took me screaming and laughing on a wild jump over her mile high cliff of storytelling. I barely knew which end was up. Speaking in her irresistible Aussie accent, she told me about why she fell in love with Los Angeles, why she isn’t there right now, how the rest of the world views the United States’ handling of the covid pandemic, and what might happen next in her life. She told me about care packages to herself and hotel quarantines and hot cross buns in cold weather, as well as manicures, celebrities, online dating during a global pandemic, and more. She made me want to stay up all night just listening to her stories!

Her year in pandemic has been in many ways as frustratingly typical as anyone’s but also very unlike any other, because at the height of it all, she flew halfway around the world and got stuck. Let’s rewind a bit.

About six years ago, Kaanji came from her native Australia to Los Angeles, for a birthday vacation. “Obsessed with Vanderpump Rules and Keeping Up with the Kardashians,” she was happily seduced by all the celebrities and American pop culture. She even met Will Smith on that trip. Just five months later, she moved to LA for work, never met another celebrity, but began putting down roots anyway. By then, it was something more genuine that grabbed her. The diversity and melting pot environment, the great big city with “a place for everyone,” had captured her heart. She also found her community.

As an auditor, then, and having previously worked for the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, Kaanji crossed professional paths with Gen, who then worked for the Los Angeles Philharmonic. The two forged an instant friendship. Even after Kaanji left that job, the two remained close. Gen absorbed her into the warmth of the LA Derby Dolls social circle. The “squad” as Kaanji affectionately refers to them, became her family that filled up her home away from home. Just no book reading for her, thanks, no matter how many book clubs the Derby Dolls attend. She continued flying back and forth between the continents, visiting loved ones and living a full and happy life.

In February, 2020, when covid-19 was barely on anyone’s radar, Kaanji and a few friends were in Melbourne to watch “The Tennis” (also known as The Australian Open). People were sanitizing seats and surfaces everywhere, and rumors were flying about food shortages, but Kaanji wasn’t buying into the hype yet. She thought, “Whatever, hoard away.” That sentiment would change in just a few weeks, back home in LA.

Keeping in mind that Australia had just wrapped up a long, horrifying chapter of devastating bushfires, some people there were already accustomed to wearing masks, never mind that they were ineffective against smoke inhalation. Kaanji remembers hearing about masks to mitigate the virus and thinking, “Oh my god so dramatic!” That was the response many people had in the beginning, but her friend, whose dad is a physician, convinced Kaanji to take two spare masks which they found at the hospital. She accepted them but did not wear them on her flight back to Los Angeles.

Upon landing at LAX, she witnessed just one employee wiping handrails with alcohol and towels and thought that was odd. Already she could see that people were behaving so differently in LA.

She resumed her California dream but watched with everyone else as covid updates began picking up steam.

On March 15, she was enjoying a proper manicure, one of the few personal indulgences she cannot do without, when news came that lockdowns in California were imminent.

Kaanji was absolutely caught off guard for food supply and toilet paper. Being a single girl often at work or on the go, she never had a need to stock pile much in her apartment. When the city plunged into its first serious lockdown, she was startled by the empty shelves at Ralph’s grocery. Exactly one onion remained in the produce aisles! At CVS, she found nothing in the freezer cases and resorted to buying offbeat foods, whatever she could find. She somehow managed to make a single roll of one-ply bamboo toilet paper last her for four months.

Even once she was able to replenish her groceries, stress snacking was unique for Kaanji. She had a long standing custom when she traveled of shipping herself packages of her favorite Australia treats. Having just been home for The Tennis, she soon benefitted from that trip’s shipment and spent lockdown enjoying her favorite Australian chocolates, among other treats. (I forgot to ask her about vegemite!)

Entertainment in quarantine seems to have crossed over plenty with personal grooming, and it was the most relatable thing ever. She minimized being out and about as much as possible, but one private indulgence remained: She had to have her nails done professionally. “That is one thing I cannot do without!” she laughed generously, and showed me her pretty hands, temporarily bandaged for protection from cooking. “I draw the line at not getting my nails done.” Months into shut down, she cautiously paid a friend to come to her apartment, both of them masked and stretching their arms as far as they could, to file and shine her nails. (I curled up my own fists in my lap and made sure Kaanji could not see my gardening, animal- tending eyesores as we spoke.)

While California (and much of the United States) at large was not locking itself down nearly so strictly as, for example, Melbourne was, Kaanji and her friends took the virus seriously. They wore masks now, when they had to be out. They avoided crowds and sanitized judiciously. During those first months of the covid pandemic, they all worked from their respective homes and stayed apart but connected with Zoom calls at least every other week. “This is the only constant I have in my life,” Kaanji said a bit pensively. Living for several years separated from one set of loved ones or another, she had learned to communicate electronically, which was now serving her well. She even had a friends’ Zoom open in the background several months later, the day she packed to fly back to Australia.

That spring and summer, the atmosphere in Los Angeles was tense for more than worries about the virus. Political and social conflict simmered hotly then boiled over, and Kaanji happened to live in a neighborhood where some of the biggest, most violent protests took place. She laid out for me her decision making process of whether to attend certain rallies and why, of which human responsibilities were most urgent at different times. “There were bigger issues,” she said, almost pleading with herself, clearly conflicted. She told me about witnessing a woman being shot with rubber bullets, plus other firsthand accounts of violence. I could hear the compassion in her voice, could see the worry on her face for how people were being treated, for the social values at stake. She told me about a night she tried to help monitor a small business in her neighborhood, hoping to ward off rioters and looters, and the National Guard followed her aggressively. All the humor and novelty of pandemic drained out of her when she shared these memories. It was obviously a heavy chapter for her, for everyone.  

As the year wore on, these stressors plus some personal losses caused her to reevaluate her life in Los Angeles. She had enjoyed an online romance with a man, but it ended before they ever met. Then a close friend of hers died from cancer. By midsummer she was thinking about spending Christmas in Australia. This was also around the time that she, along with everyone else in the U.S., was anxiously awaiting the results of the presidential election. The prospect of a holiday trip was welcome distraction.

It was a collision of perfect timelines and a little serendipity. Just as she was weighing her options, Kaanji learned that the Australian government was offering paid hotel quarantine for people returning home within a narrow window of days. Remember that Australia’s version of lockdown was from the beginning far more extreme (and effective) than anything we have seen here in the United States. Their freedom to move about was truly eliminated, making it almost a police state; but this did result in unbelievably low infection rates. She trusted that she was headed to a much safer part of the world than Los Angeles.

As it happened, she was able to find deeply discounted airline tickets that fit the required window, so she took the leap and booked a flight home for November 29th. This would begin her long, somewhat open ended absence from the melting pot city she had come to love. 

The Australian government paid for her to quarantine in the Sydney hotel, and it was a true quarantine, unlike anything we have seen here. People in town needed a permit to move about past a three mile radius, and she could not leave her room at all for two weeks. Three times per day, meals were delivered with an impersonal knock at the door, and the food was rarely good. The rooms boasted questionable hygiene, and she was lonely. She also suffered an ear infection during this time.

Still, true to her go-with-the-flow spirit, Kaanji summoned her creativity and networking skills to get through those strange days. She found a Facebook group comprised specifically of Australians in hotel quarantine (because of course this exists!). She salvaged brown paper bags from food delivery and used tiny scissors from a travel sized grooming kit to painstakingly fashion a Christmas tree decoration for her wall. She grew a lighthearted “Keeping Up With Kaanjo” social media following, just to maintain her sanity. Stuck between her two homes, it all had far from a holiday vacation vibe, but she was safe. Eventually she did get to join her family for Christmas.

Sadly, just two days after Christmas, Kaanji learned that her aging aunt had contracted the deadly virus. Her aunt lived in London at the time and had been using a hospital transport to attend weekly kidney dialysis treatments. Since she had been extra careful in every other area of life, the family surmises this is how she was exposed. Due to her already vulnerable health and advanced age, she succumbed to covid-19 after a long, difficult month of suffering. “She was so weak,” Kaanji shared.

Suddenly, the importance of family nearness, however altered because of travel restrictions and a lack of large group gatherings, was underscored. Although they felt angry to have lost their loved so few weeks before the vaccine was made available, it was good just to be a little bit closer to each other. It somewhat lessened the sting.  

We talked about the vaccine and the sharp contrast between how the United States has behaved during pandemic, compared to the rest of the world. She shared that most Australians, for example, have been fearful of the virus and content to stay put. They readily dismiss travel in order to stay safe. The restrictions are just accepted, perhaps because they have lost their freedoms before. Moreover, they see the rebelliousness of Americans as a bit selfish, as risky beyond what we need. In Australia, just one positive case can shut down a city, as we will see later. Extreme contact tracing is a foregone conclusion, not a debatable intrusion to anyone’s privacy.

Kaanji is rightfully proud that her home country has handled public safety better than we have, but she also admits that she is envious of our vaccine rollout here. Their cases are zero, but they are unable to leave. They have “no empathy” for anyone overseas, and overall there is definitely an “us-versus-them” mentality.

Kaanji has reached a gentler conclusion about it all. She spoke in the same mellow, loving voice she used when remembering the riots in Los Angeles: “You can’t control anyone but yourself.”

She continued working remote for a time, but that had to end too. By early 2021 Kaanji had to tell her employer she was not returning to the states any time soon, and she began the long, arduous process of not just finding a new job but also fully undoing her life from another continent. She offered personal possessions to her friends then paid her regular housekeeper once more to clean her LA apartment and sweep through, taking whatever she might want from what was left. “It was the least I could do,” Kaanji almost whispered. Her friends helped at every turn. Gen took care of loose end banking business in LA and eventually helped return her leased vehicle. It was a lot for Kaanji to organize, but the activity was helpful. Kaanji found that all the list making and short term tasks and goals kept her busy in a good way, kept her from over thinking things that were outside of her control.

And so Kaanji’s life in Australia has pressed on in limbo, under these bizarre quarantine circumstances. She is living in her childhood bedroom, happy to have reconnected with cousins and appreciating the time with her Dad, enjoying daily walks and no snakes (unbelievable). But she is also weary of isolation and missing her life back in Los Angeles. “My life is a distraction,” she said with a smile and a little bit of surrender. In recent months she has taken up cooking elaborate, picturesque meals like Japanese Katsu curry, though she rarely eats the food. She just makes it for the Instagram photos, ha! She once ordered $60 worth of yeast and that never arrived then spent five hours teaching herself to make hot cross buns, one of her favorite seasonal treats.

By this January, 2021, Australia no longer had a mask mandate. Kaanji described a whole new kind of culture shock, in adjusting to this. The short plane rides when they actually served meals. She accepted a position at a firm in Melbourne and had to acclimate all over again to the old ways of riding in elevators with others, shaking hands, and speaking face to face without masks. She said that a year later, it all finally hit her, when she began to feel normal.

In March of this year, Kaanji and a few friends were back at the Tennis. She was actually at a match when another eerie announcement was made. A single positive case of the now familiar virus sparked the city’s shut down. Officials dropped a midnight curfew which was enforced by patrolling officers and hefty fines. Kaanji and her friends spontaneously crammed three days’ worth of tourism into a “one epic night,” barely making it back home before midnight. She said it felt like a scene from an apocalyptic movie, running away from the train station.

I was thirsty to know how Kaanji remained buoyant in the midst of so many changes and plot twists, so much fear and upheaval. She had been smiling almost constantly as we spoke, sharing her stories matter of factly, only occasionally dipping into shadows. So I asked about her mental health. She boldly expressed her gratitude for the Derby friends who provided constant support.  They certainly bolstered each other. “No words can thank them enough.” She also shared that at some point during this strange year she reached out to her former therapist in Australia and rekindled a good dialogue, virtually. “Telehealth is the greatest thing to come out of pandemic!”

Kaanji’s heart is in more than one place at a time, but for now her body lives in Australia. She expects to stay there for the next year or two, and now that pandemic is winding down she has some soul searching to do about how to spend that time. She is already campaigning hard for the Derby group to visit her for “the trip of a lifetime!” when it’s safe to travel. Eventually, she plans a return to California, to live in a house on Manhattan Beach in California, adopt a midsized rescue pup, and take up paddle boarding.

When I think of the meandering path Kaanji’s life has taken, especially this past year, and the exuberant ways she chooses to live, I feel excited for her. She strikes me as the kind of person who can flow with purpose and self determination through and around any obstacle, like the strong, roaring Thompson River in Colorado, using the rocks to direct her considerable energy and maybe carving gently away at them, too. Shaping the rocks themselves with her will.

However she chooses to spend the next couple of years, I know she will extract goodness from her life. I know that when her California family comes to visit her in her homeland, she will absolutely give them the trip of a lifetime. And when she moves back, I hope to meet her on Manhattan Beach and discover what breed of pup she has rescued.

XOXOXOXO

let them eat cake

Please enjoy a glimpse into the life of a fairly private woman, someone I admire deeply for several good reasons. I met Lisa through a running group in Oklahoma, but when she moved to Colorado we got even better acquainted online. She is one of the nimblest thinkers, loveliest adventure seekers, and hardest working people I know. She is also tender and careful and funny. Enjoy!

In late December, 2019, and early January, 2020, Lisa was “pretty aware” of the spreading novel corona virus, increasingly so because she works for a firm that provides support for military aircraft. This made her privy to updates early on about emerging travel restrictions and evacuations. Travel restrictions are common in her line of work though, thanks to a variety of constant global threats; this new threat was not initially startling.

In late January to early February, she and her husband Wayne went on a long-planned Caribbean cruise and felt safe doing so but gradually noticed changes. Passengers’ temperatures were being taken, travel restrictions tightened around China, and everyone was paying close attention to the news. Back home after the cruise, the last normal feeling life events they enjoyed were a Roaring Twenties party for work and a Sadie Hawkins dance for their high school-aged daughter, Ella.

Tension about the threat of the virus gradually increased, but Lisa wasn’t scared until late February when she heard reports of the first untraceable community-spread positive case in the United States. That got her attention, and they immediately hunkered down at home.

Career military service people, Lisa and Wayne had years before, in a tour in Guam, learned the value of being prepared for long stints without shopping. She also lived in Moore, Oklahoma, during the unforgettable 2013 tornado, so emergency preparedness is ingrained in her nature. Their home was already well supplied with the basics. As shut down became imminent, all she had to do was take a thorough, pen-and-paper inventory to make sure they could stay indoors for at least 30 days. They could. They even had enough toilet paper, but she laughed (and got me laughing too) while telling a story about a gag gift they once won at a Secret Santa party: A “Tushy” bidet, this kind of bum-rinsing device you attach to your toilet stool lid. So she knew that if they ever did exhaust their TP supply, they at least had that, ha!

In the past, Lisa’s job had her travelling at least every other week. She had already made some adjustments in May, 2019, that had her and many of her teammates planted at home more and more. The more she worked from home, the more she moved from the dining room table to her proper home office. She made the space fully functional by Thanksgiving preceding pandemic. She also furnished it with a new Peloton bike which she uses to stay moving on long conference call days and an eclectic gallery wall of artwork that includes a semi topless portrait of Frida Kahlo. That troublesome little glimpse staring over Lisa’s shoulder while she connects with colleagues via her laptop has started more than one interesting conversation. It is her lean, left or right, that makes all the difference.

When pandemic started, Wayne had already been working from home full time for about a year. They didn’t know it yet, but this and Lisa’s corporate culture shift was all a fortunate lead in to what was coming. After flying home to Colorado on February 28, 2020, she was not on a plane again for almost a full year. To put that in perspective, it was the longest stretch of time Lisa was home since she enlisted in the Air Force at age 19.

People who don’t travel as much as she normally did for work might not realize how many hours every week she would spend in airports, waiting, driving, and shuttling to and from hotels, even as it slowed down. Those hours added up, and they were suddenly all being spent at home with her husband and daughter.

At first, she said, it “felt weird, having so much extra time. I kept wondering if I was forgetting what I had to do.” But she filled the time with reading plenty of books and baking and staying active as well as binging lots of television. She and her husband are normally avid movie goers, but this year, a $20 monthly streaming service had to stand proxy for their viewing entertainment. She said they watched everything, including lots of movies she would normally have passed up.

Most importantly, she realized the time she’d been given to spend lots of time with her daughter. At age seventeen, Ella’s years at home were numbered, so they all seized the strange gift of extra time and made a year’s worth of special memories.  

Gardening was one of the new interests they explored together. Lisa took her interest in growing food and flowers a step further than most, though, by diving in and converting their suburban front lawn to a xeriscape wilderness. (I have greedily followed her progress via Instagram.) She has done so thoughtfully and steadily, keeping native plants and pollinators in mind throughout the process. Lisa is as elegant a gardener as she is everything. She also devoured the Marie Kondo series and acted on all that purging advice. “This is the cleanest my house has ever been.”

Lisa is a wonderfully athletic woman (we first met at a group run in OKC several years ago), health conscious and fit in every way, so I was especially curious about her stress snacking habits during pandemic. Her answers delighted me: Ella made them cookies frequently, and like most of America they made “all the banana bread.” There was also a flour tortilla experiment that sadly ended with disappointment. But mostly, their three-person household discovered an insatiable appetite for every possible variety of cake.

“Oh we made so much cake,” she moaned. When they could eventually visit stores, they bought ready-made bakery cakes, too. They gobbled up standard commercial ones with themed frosting designs, like one memorable castoff they found after the suddenly cancelled March Madness season. Lisa said it was the “ugliest basketball cake anyone had ever seen,” but it was delicious. Once, later in the year, her Mom visited and noticed in their kitchen a bakery cake frosted with “Happy Birthday.” She inquired, whose birthday had she missed? “No one’s, Mom, we just like cake!” I had to ask Lisa which flavor combination became her favorite, after so much indiscriminate sampling and experimenting. It turns out this elegant woman has a shameless affinity for the common, cheap, fluffy white cake with the too sugary, butter cream style frosting.

The heart wants what the heart wants.

Ella’s high school in Colorado faced all the extreme challenges we have all heard about from around the country, but Ella harnessed the bizarre circumstances and put them to work for her. Spring Break 2020 bled into lockdown, which evolved into a remote teaching environment that was perfect for her learning style. She is beautifully self motivated, her Mom beamed, and had no trouble excelling in her classes all that spring plus the next fall, 100% online. Ella did so well, in fact, that she did not need the built in grades floor (Colorado schools decided no student’s grades would fall more than 5% during lockdown, and college entrance systems eliminated the ACT and SAT scores) and managed to transfer to a charter school this spring, 2021. From there she graduated high school a full year early.

A full year!

Lisa certainly felt proud of her only child, but then the frenzy set in: College! Her baby was preparing for college a whole year earlier than expected. The gift of extra quality time together was growing more precious every day.

I asked Lisa what Ella wants to do with her one precious life. Apparently, a long mother-daughter tradition of watching Forensic Files and other such shows has kindled in this bright young woman a spark for pathology work. She wants to be a pathologist’s assistant, but not for morbid reasons and curiosities. When pressed for reasons why, she told her Mom, “I really want to give people closure.”

How beautiful. She will no doubt blaze a remarkable trail for herself.

While Ella excelled in academics this strange year, she experienced many of the same social discomforts adults have been experiencing. She has simply missed her friends. Lisa described her daughter as valuing a smaller group, a friends circle based on quality over quantity; but she still has needed to be around them, and that has not been possible. This has been understandably hard. Mom’s advice has been, “Just hang in there,” and a reminder that at college she will be able to magnetize friends with similar qualities and interests.

Just hang in there is the kind of good, warm advice most of us could use at the end such a long hard year. And if Ella is very much like her beautiful Mom, she will have zero trouble finding good people in a few months.

Lisa and her sweet family took masks and social distancing seriously, and they felt safe. They were happy to be “very home centered,” often not leaving the house at all for well over a week, and they used copious amounts of hand sanitizer. These safety measures helped them stay healthy all year, but a friend’s son and several of her team members from work did contract the virus. Her father in law, a Lutheran pastor in small town Idaho, also got sick. He had been careful, so they don’t know how he caught it. Interestingly, his wife, who has chronic asthma, stayed virus free, although they did not quarantine apart from each other. Lisa describes this common phenomenon aptly, like any Oklahoman might: “It felt like a tornado, how it hits one house and destroys it but completely misses the one right next door.” Thankfully, her father in law experienced lingering but not life threatening symptoms and is now recovering well.

A year later, with some things relaxing a bit, Lisa finally went for a manicure. After such a prolonged carefulness, she caught herself wide eyed, thinking the whole time “Is this how I get it?” It’s a minor stress that dissipated quickly. She is also now vaccinated and thankful for that. She and her husband expect to still wear masks on airplanes and in some social settings. Even if she is vaccinated, she said, she feels a sense of responsibility for other people.

For all their romance and domestic harmony, the Petersens do not always agree politically, and this past year has been a whopper for everyone in that arena. Being home together so much more served to highlight those differences. She seems to take it stride, though, teasing gently that, “criticizing your government is the most American thing you can do.” Being home together more also highlighted personality differences like how naturally quiet he is and how much more of a talker she is, at least in a private setting. Overall, the experience has made her even more thankful for what they share.

Lisa was a deep well of insight when we started talking about the broader social scenery during pandemic, how people handled things, and how our government provided (or failed to provide) leadership. She wonders how much better off we would have been had the former administration not been “so ready to paint a rosy picture or make it all feel like a non-event.” She made a vivid point, contrasting the initially minimized treatment of the corona virus against the newsier publicizing of an Iranian official’s assassination. She also described studies and systems in place since 9/11 that were specifically meant for shielding the population from chemical warfare and wonders why those weren’t mobilized earlier. “We have a lot more tools in the box,” she lamented, saddened by how many people died needlessly from the virus.

Wisely, Lisa also acknowledged that we, the American people, have something in our DNA that prevents us from sacrificing our personal liberties for the greater good. Why have so many people not wanted to wear masks and give up their freedom to move about? “We’re not culturally set up to do that,” she said. The history of America’s rebellious nature just means that we will “enforce our will” and fight for our own rights even at the expense of the collective.

We theorized about the World War II generation and tried to pin point what was different then, that so many people did make spectacular and creative personal sacrifices for the greater good. We had a great conversation about this. She is left feeling irritated at our peers, our generation now. “All you have to do is stay inside,” she said.

There is the difference of information overload. Was it a narrower, almost singular news source that kept the nation focused then? Even more so than in 2001 when the 9/11 attacks happened, we now live in a time when so much information is available to us at all hours of the day, and many people have trouble discerning fact from fiction. This seems to have morphed into a bizarre and dangerous kind of cynicism that has kept many people from viewing Covid-19 as a credible threat. Was it an overarching fear of the enemy that bound everyone together then? We didn’t find any good answers, just some frustrations about the mix of independence and selfishness.

How are the Petersens taking stock and looking forward?

They are thankful. They are thankful for their health and safety, for their family’s strength and love for each other, for Ella’s happy trajectory, and for the ways their corporate worlds have thrived under these circumstances.

Lisa shared amazing news about her firm’s recent generous gift: To celebrate a record setting year of profits, the CEO affirmed his desire to invest less in buildings and facilities and more in his people, so he provided his own kind of stimulus and paid out $32 million to his 25,000 people. Amazing! The remote work environment has certainly been a success. Both she and Wayne predict continuing to work from home for the foreseeable future. They love it now and are excited to fold in more living and more travel for adventure as it becomes possible.

Ella missed out on milestone events, of course, like her prom, homecoming, and graduation. They are still brainstorming how to make amends for these. But they are still so thankful for her personal excellence and happiness. Other missed events, like a much anticipated hiking trip to Italy, Lisa is filing away as simply “adventures delayed. It’s for the best,” she says peacefully.

But this is where her real hope and intention for the future emerges, the big lesson she is taking away from a year in pandemic:  “In the future, don’t delay. If there’s not a good reason to put it off, don’t put it off.”

More of that good, warm, solid advice from an old soul in a young woman’s body.

Thank you, friend, for sharing your time and your experience. You continue to inspire me!

“We are a Team!”

For many families, the timing of Pandemic could not have been worse; but for Trisha and her husband Brad, and their two perfect little ones, it came both when they could handle it and when they could use it to galvanize their union. I so enjoyed talking to her, hearing how she navigated the rough waters and came out plenty wet and shaken but definitely stronger. Enjoy!

In mid-February, 2020, Trisha Whitley was already “married to the news” to stay apprised of political happenings, when reports of the novel corona virus began filtering in. She understood it then as mostly a problem in China and remembers having unsettling feelings for that population, thinking compassionately, “…they’re gonna be in masks again.”

Gradually, she noticed the infection reports moving from China to Italy, to the United Kingdom, then to New York, and finally to Seattle. She just hadn’t imagined the virus would land here, in the United States.

Together with her husband Brad and their two young children, Avery and Scout, Trisha spent the first weekend in March, 2020, enjoying normal family activities. They attended an outdoor birthday party, explored an antique sale at the old Crossroads Mall, watched the skies for spring weather, and more. Right after that, everything changed. At their daughter Avery’s preschool parent-teacher conference, the teacher hinted about something big coming, maybe big changes for the school. The virus had hit Oklahoma, and shut downs were imminent.

Brad and Trisha stood face to face in their colorful, open floor plan kitchen and had a quiet, serious discussion about what to do next. Trisha’s maternal instincts were to “feed and protect the kids” and keep everything “as normal as possible.” Brad agreed. The Whitleys’ marital operating standard is always absolute teamwork, and the bizarre stressors of pandemic, even at this early stage, only served to reinforce that dynamic.

Their first order of business was shopping. Brad found a painter’s N-95 mask in his workshop, which Trisha wore to a nearby Crest grocery store to buy necessities. She remembers sitting in her car before entering, her petite body shaking as she fought a swelling wave of anxiety. Less than a quarter of the people inside were wearing masks, and it was crowded in a way she had never seen before. Chaotic. A long line of people wrapped around the entire width and back length of the store, waiting to check out. She turned one corner to walk down the soup aisle and let out “an audible laugh-cry” at the sight of an empty shelf where the ramen noodles should have been. She knew that people nearby heard her emotional response. The gaping vacancy in the middle of a place of such normal abundance was more than just startling; it scared her. That store still had milk available, but it was being rationed.

Then she began to notice unkindness between strangers instead of the usual neighborly, Oklahoma behavior. People were actually showing hatred toward the elderly in the crowd, and the overall vibe inside the store was something she had never felt before. She gathered the food and bottled water she needed for her family and got home as quickly as possible.

As that surreal shopping experience sunk into her bones, Trisha felt disappointed in herself for not stopping to help strangers, especially the elderly; but at the same time she was unapologetic for being laser focused on a mission to provide for her own children. As she and I would discuss in so many ways during this long conversation, “Kids change everything.” Also, this was the beginning of a long, strenuous tug of war in her tender heart, between concern for others’ needs and that deep, immovable parental love. She described herself as being “divided in half, talking in my head a lot so as to not freak out in front of the kids, and keeping the kids happy and fed.”

Once extra food and water were acquired (they already had plenty of TP, which was good because the store was already sold out by then), the Whitleys settled in for an especially home-centered Spring Break. Brad had already planned to be home with the family for their week away from preschool (a tradition they started when Avery was born). They counted this as a blessing and dovetailed the family time into him working remote for several months, past when many of his colleagues returned to their offices downtown. Protecting each other and their children from exposure to the virus was paramount, and together they found myriad ways to thrive at home.

In fact, thriving and teamwork were their guideposts. Having Avery and Scout to protect and provide for made everything scarier, more intense; but having them to love and entertain also made it both easier and more necessary to focus on the moment. Trisha loves being a Mom and discovered more and more ways to feed their joy daily.

A word about the timing of life: The Whitleys moved to their rural property in 2018 and built their dream home. They put down roots easily, and their sweet, young family of four began to breathe deeply. They spread out and luxuriated into the spaciousness and freedom of country life, just about a year and a half before pandemic gained momentum. This particular blessing is not lost on them. Trisha reflected on how natural it was for the kids to be outside, in their familiar setting, just enjoying their life in every season and in all weather. They aren’t missing much, as young as they are. The extra classes out in the world, like swimming and music, can resume in time. Brad and Trisha feel good on the land, too, sometimes chatting with neighbors from a safe distance, once hosting an outdoor family gathering, but mostly appreciating the space and safety of “home base.”

I asked for details about their daily life in pandemic. I know Trisha to be a great home cook, so I was excited to hear what her stress snack was (I was secretly rooting for tortilla chips because she makes a killer hot salsa). She answered honestly, “Marie, you know what? It was wine. We drank stress wine.” Haha! Beyond that, she actually talked about survival food, not stress food. I was confused. She explained:

For a stretch of time early in pandemic, thoughts of sheer survival and the possibility of being holed up at home for an extended period of time had them thinking of eating more efficiently, less decadently (wine notwithstanding). They settled on a food that was shelf stable and hit big energy needs in a small dose: Taquitos. I kid you not. She bought a huge box of them. The kids ate normal, balanced, kid-friendly meals including frozen vegetables, but Brad and Trisha got in touch with their true survivor warrior selves by subsisting for a while on Taquitos, cans of albacore tuna, and Kraft macaroni and cheese. This strategy eliminated worries over what fresh produce may or may not have been available at the store, and it eliminated unnecessary trips to the store, too. I love it.

Trisha and Brad’s pandemic survival food strategy might sound unconventional, but it’s a great reminder that when it comes to food, flexibility can be a lifesaver. And as much as they relied on simple, long-lasting snacks like Taquitos and tuna, wine still found its place in their routine—particularly during moments when they just needed to unwind. There was something deeply comforting about cracking open a bottle at the end of a long day of uncertainty. In fact, they quickly learned the joys of exploring new wine options online, discovering the ease of having their favorites delivered right to their door. WineOnline.ca became a reliable go-to for their wine needs, providing them with an endless selection of bottles to suit any mood or occasion. When your grocery trips are limited and you’re just trying to get through another day of isolation, having access to quality wine without leaving home became a small luxury they could appreciate.

She also took advantage of offerings from the Oklahoma City restaurant Whiskey Cake. During shut downs, they marketed a clever survival kit which consisted of eggs, cheese, butter, milk, steak, chicken, and bread. Trisha called it “a lifesaver!”

Daily life with a preschooler and her younger brother was full and fun. I could tell Trisha loved diving in and making the most of this unusual chapter, treating it like a true accepting gratefully the gift of extra time with her children at a tender age. And she had lots to say about distance learning, declaring with maternal authority that “Pre-K does not need six hours of instruction/” But she does acknowledge that they thrive on flexible routine, so she crafted a beautiful one, taking cues from the instructors Avery had loved at swimming, music, and other fun classes.

During the distance learning months, their morning started with breakfast and some kind of movement. That was usually followed by a learning activity Trisha had planned, then some reading aloud, and Avery’s virtual class for the day. Then they either played outside or logged onto an online “Cosmic Kids” yoga class and finished the day by Noon. This left plenty of time for them to simply be a young family. It also helped them feel steady and kept the kids on enough of a rhythm to be ready for school once it started again. “As normal as possible” was another of her good and useful mantras.

Parental entertainment was boiled down to great television like Ozark, You, and Schitt’s Creek. She also read more books this past year than ever before, something that makes her proud. She highly recommends This is How It Always Is. Sometimes, after the kids were asleep, Brad and Trisha would steal outside and burn pinion wood in their chimenea for a quiet date night alone.

Trisha gushed so sweetly about her husband and how proud and thankful she has felt all year, that he stepped readily into the role of “ultimate protector.” She said so many times, in the midst of a variety of beautiful stories, “He has been my rock.” And she described how the stress and necessity of pandemic living just reinforced everything they were already doing. They discuss everything together, work deliberately as a team, and support each other no matter what comes their way. They share parenting duties and allow for the ebb and flow of energy. I loved hearing that the collaboration was natural and healthy for them, but I was not surprised. My husband and I have been lucky to call them friends for several years now, and we and feel the strength of their union glowing off of them, like a safe, steady heat. Unquenchable.

Relating to loved ones in the outside world was a lot more complicated than maintaining a good environment at home, no matter how careful everyone tried to be. Brad and Trisha’s determination to maintain social distance invited some quiet conflict with extended family, and it made for some complex holiday and special event choices. From Thanksgiving to birthdays and even Trisha’s youngest sister’s wedding, the decision to attend or decline was never taken lightly. She shared with me that although they did find ways to participate in her sister’s wedding, she is still to this day worried that she “wasn’t there for her one hundred percent.”

In July, Brad’s much loved and young cousin Scott died tragically (unrelated to covid). Brad and Trisha were devastated to not travel to attend the funeral and grieve with family. That is something covid took that cannot be replaced.

Throughout our conversation, Trisha revealed a depth of love for everyone in her very full life. The residual conflict obviously still makes her ache. But she is steadfast in the choices they have made to keep their family unit safe and healthy.

We talked more about the booming infection rates and the fluctuating social dynamics this past long year. All spring, the Whitleys’ efforts to stay safe paid off. Trisha even admits to feeling a bit of pride for having avoided the virus. Then summertime hit, and covid spread rampantly through her extended family. One person after another contracted it, including her parents who very much and understandably wanted to be around their grandchildren, her brother in law who is a small town firefighter and works in unavoidably close contact with others, also both of her sisters, one of whom is a school teacher and the other who was pregnant at the time (both she and the baby are ok). It was a long, tense, scary summer; but thankfully nobody’s symptoms were bad enough to require hospitalization. Some of the family still has lingering side effects, but overall they are doing well and counting their blessings.

In broader social circles and society at large, Trisha watched the spreading darkness and hate speech, the oiliness of fear and hatred seeping everywhere. She wonders, looking both back and forward, about misinformation and poor leadership, the misconceptions we might have about herd immunity, and what is next for our country. We talked about some of this but did not discover any magic answers. It’s all more of that ever present weight and worry. “How could we have done better?” she said, “Have we learned our lesson?” Excellent questions.

Brad and Trisha decided early on to not fill their kids with fear of the virus but just instill a healthy respect for germs and teach them to avoid hugging others. They watched kid-geared educational videos on germs. Convincing other people to avoid hugging their kids was the hard part. (Those two are scrumptious!) Also, their household chose to refer to covid as “the Germ” in a casual, matter of fact way, so as to not create a huge looming covid monster in the world. It is just a germ to avoid, that’s all.

The winter holiday season was extraordinarily difficult for her extended family. Thanksgiving is especially sacred to everyone, and celebrating apart from each other was hard. “Life is so fragile,” Trisha said sadly. And I know she meant not just the flesh and blood of bodily life but also the spirit of bonds and relationships. At the end of the day, though, mortality was the foremost concern. Trading special gatherings for health and safety made for one excruciating choice after another. The guilt of isolating themselves is still heavy.

When the vaccine was first approved, Trisha was among the earliest offered her first dose, thanks to her up to date license to practice as a dental hygienist. She battled more guilt and inner conflict about accepting the vaccine when so many others needed it, but eventually she relented and today is fully vaccinated. To be clear, her hesitation was never about trusting the medicine itself; she knew the technology existed to thoroughly and safely green light the vaccine. She has full trust in the scientific process and the community that keeps it moving. Trisha spoke with awe and reverence, saying, “I find it humbling,” about the work being done behind closed doors, to keep the world safe. “Those people love their job so much!”

Both kids are back to school now, and Brad is back at the office. They all continue to take precautions but also live life fully on their land. One of the best gifts pandemic has afforded Trisha has been extra time to research her own gardening methods, and she is elbow deep in top soil, wildflower seeds, and young peppers, painting gorgeous murals, and making memories with her babies.

Sweet Scout turns four this April. His doting parents are gently brainstorming a way to celebrate with loved ones, maybe something outdoors at a safe distance. Surely they will make the right call. After a year of so many weighty decisions and so much navigating of complex people dynamics and health concerns, the Whitleys’ rock solid teamwork will no doubt rise to the occasion. (I just wonder if they will serve wine and Taquitos.)

“Dig deep in your heart and find love,” my beautiful friend pleads with the world, “Use that.”

XOXOXOXO

the golden girls of pandemic

Please say hello to my two favorite California residents and read about their year in pandemic. Their stories and insights were so fascinating, this story could easily have been twice as long. Grab a snack and enjoy!

The first several weeks of 2020 were hectic and happy for Gen and Julia, each of them living their respective lives in their own Los Angeles homes, with their own jobs and cars and schedules, but enjoying plenty of overlap, too, because they are best friends. They had group lunches, work trips, book launches, a birthday party with cake and wine and silliness where Vince Vaughan made a memorable appearance, an outdoor concert, a book club meeting, and more.

They had heard a few reports of the new corona virus, but neither remembers thinking of it as anything more immediately threatening than, for example, Ebola or the swine flu. Then came the evening they both recalled, when otherwise normal hugs between friends suddenly felt uncomfortable.

 That was one weekend in early March, and all of that lively momentum came to a screeching halt. Looking back on how much they were exposed to large groups then, they both agree, “It’s a miracle we didn’t get covid that week.”  Their first big event cancellation was a traditional getaway to Arizona to watch MLB spring training, and it was a big disappointment to both girls. Lockdown came hot and heavy after that, slashing through season tickets for basketball and much more.

Julia spent three solid weeks holed up in her Los Feliz apartment, spending the first few days of shelter-in-place cancelling all of her imminent travel plans. She is a literary publicist by profession, and her 2020 schedule was already shaping up to be “bananas,” so there was a lot of travel upcoming. Undoing it all was a feat.

Gen’s last normal day of work was March thirteenth. She worked, then, at the Los Angeles Philharmonic, in the finance office. She remembers the environment feeling weird. First, they scrambled to decide who would be working remote. Then they scrambled to purchase enough laptops for those employees. It was uncharted territory for sure. Add to this, a colleague at the Phil lost her husband to the virus early on. LaTonya’s disabled daughter also contracted the virus, and though she survived it, her condition was serious. Everyone’s sensitivity was heightened.

We all remember those moments when the pandemic first felt real, and maybe we remember thinking it would only last for a couple of weeks. Gen and Julia are no exception. They were initially determined to wait it out, each on her own, hoping for a swift and healthy end to shelter-in-place. When infection rates swelled nationwide, lockdowns took on heavier meaning, and the end stretched farther and farther out of view.

On April 9, 2020, Julia also ran out of clean laundry, ha. So they combined resources and became roommates for the first time in their decade long friendship. They had stayed together a few times over the years, to help each other mend from surgery or illness or broken bones. Both retired LA Derby Doll skaters, convalescence was familiar territory for these ladies. But rooming up in healthy times was new. All they had to worry about now was a deadly virus. Julia packed one huge suitcase, filled mostly with her books, left her apartment vacant. More than one year later, they are still enjoying good chemistry and making lots of happy memories.  

Julia chose to not shop right away. She had enough dry goods to wait it out for a few weeks and wanted to avoid crowds at all costs. Gen had lots of frozen foods already but did collect a few shelf stable additions. She chuckles now at her early choice of Pepperidge Farms smoked sausage, something she doesn’t normally even eat (You are not alone in this, sister, lots of people did this).  Her known snacking weakness is a large carton of those tiny Goldfish crackers every few days (I am seeing a Pepperidge Farm theme here), but she denied herself this pleasure. Instead, she soothed her nerves with chips and salsa like a good born and bred Oklahoma girl. Julia’s stress snack was, and this delighted me very much, Jack Daniels. (I feel like Hemingway would be proud.)

Masks were an easy yes for the Golden Girls of Pandemic. They wore scrappy, homemade first runs made by yours truly. They bought surgical masks and K-N95s online, and they found cute crafty ones, too. Gen is an avid runner and often wore a neck gaiter for easily slipping up over her mouth and nose. For a time, they wore two masks at once in public. Will they continue to wear masks after pandemic?  “Yes, I hope so,” they agreed, especially “when we are sick or traveling.”

We chatted about all the many unknowns in those early weeks. They conveyed such gravity and humility about their place in the world. As Julia put it, they aren’t medically trained or emergency responders or of use in any essential service, so, “The only thing we could do to help out was not get it and not spread it.” The way she spoke that, with the gentle tone of helpless surrender, made me ache.

Gen’s handsome little bungalow is located in a densely populated historic neighborhood, where she knows and socializes with many of their neighbors. They all look out for each other in normal times, and this past year has underscored that bond. For two months the neighborhood soundtrack was almost nonstop emergency sirens. Ambulances came and went every day. It was stressful and sad, and the sounds echo, serving to illustrate in real, human ways the cold facts of local statistics. It kept everyone on edge, no matter how much they isolated strictly at home. “It was scary,” Julia said.

Despite the outside worries and stressors of not just the virus but also the raging political and social storms, daily life on the inside of their home seems to have been blissful, overall smooth and productive for these retired Derby girls. They each had plenty of physical space for working on their laptops then stretching out to rest and read. For a while, they used a spare bedroom and some creative sound blocking materials so Julia could record her podcast. Gen spent some time nibbling away at home improvements, though admitted to often being “frozen by indecision.” She told me about a few unfinished projects and noted with gentle self deprecation, “There was a lot of sanding of wood.”

Over the months, their food repertoire expanded greatly as Julia took over much of the cooking duties. In fact, it was more than duty. Julia came to relish 5:00 p.m., the predictable time of day when she could walk away from her laptop and lose herself in the kitchen. They ate Italian food made from scratch and cooked flash frozen seafood delivered from Santa Monica. They experimented with baking and red beans and rice and vegetable pot pies, perfected sourdough pizza crust, and much more. Gen cooked too and was happy to clean up after their frequent feasts.

The girls obviously did a good job building routines that supported their mental and physical well being. Living according to deliberate structure comes naturally to Gen, and it served them both well this year. Julia took to regular long walks, outdoors when possible then on the treadmill when infection rates were too high to risk being in small alleyways. Likewise, Gen ran plenty, sometimes more miles than before thanks to the time saved by no longer commuting to work. They found a comfortable domestic rhythm, and this made all the difference in preserving, and maybe deepening, their friendship.  

Through all of this, the Golden Girls of Pandemic stayed proactively connected to friends and family via, you guessed it, Zoom. Julia’s Mom lives in Santa Cruz, much of Gen’s family is here in Oklahoma, and their friends are all around the globe. I appreciated their honesty about how average life updates soon felt mundane, because everyone was always doing the same stuff, over and over, ha. Their solution was to grow one of their standing Zoom gatherings into monthly game nights, just to stay connected. That is cool.

These two women are bookworms of the highest order (hashtag cool nerds), so I was interested to hear how pandemic affected this part of their lives. Gen read as much as ever, though not everything she tried held her attention. I will personally add here that pandemic afforded our family of origin a unique motivation to read the same books, I think because we were checking in with other more often. Gen took the lead on this, and one month last summer will go down in family history: Almost all of us, including both of our parents, read Where the Crawdads Sing then had a long Zoom about it. We read others and will continue this new tradition, but I will forever be thankful for that particular book and the excellent conversations it started between (almost) all of us.

Julia’s usual setting for diving deep into a book is either a crowded bar or an airplane. With neither available all year, she had trouble relaxing enough to read for pleasure. Sometimes the YA genre grabbed her better. No worries though, she was able to read all of her books for work and the two book clubs she leads. Certainly, that is still a lot of reading.

As for other media consumption, they were pretty indulgent and even figured out a system for trading the remote control back and forth. They watched The Crown, The Americans, and Six Feet Under, the latter of which they both said was “Oh… so good!” On Super Bowl Sunday, since neither of them cares for football but “It is the one true American holiday, when un-athletic people sit and yell at athletes on television,” Julia asserted, they assembled a table filled with all the best dips and appetizers and binged gluttonously on Bridgerton. That is to say, they watched the entire series in exactly one day. “We kept a butt count.” Gen exploded into laughter at this admission and was even able to supply the episode number when the most butts appeared, in case I needed that. (Thanks weirdo, no.)

Pandemic served both of them professionally, just in different ways. For Julia, once she accepted and overcame the challenges of recording a podcast from home, she thrived. And it was overall a good year for the world of literary publishing, notwithstanding the monumental jam up when President Obama’s book The Promised Land went to print. Julia and a friend and colleague also managed to finish and publish their own book this year, which is pretty amazing.

Gen thrived too, working steadily from home all year, but the unique environment brought into focus some underlying management problems at her firm, things that pre-pandemic life had kept a little bit hidden. She gained the perspective she needed to give her notice toward the end of 2020 and started job hunting. Her standards were high, as they should be, and her patience paid off. After a few long months of searching, interviewing, and weighing options, she found her dream job, which she started yesterday.

I asked the golden girls for their opinions on how their local government handled the outbreak and what they feel could have been done better. Gen and Julia agreed that California, and specifically Los Angeles county, initially seemed responsive enough. Then pockets of the population grew resistant to mask wearing and sheltering in place. These groups gained noise and momentum and asserted their need for personal freedoms. Eventually the Governor “caved” on important restrictions like indoor dining. Gen and Julia were disappointed but, predictably, stayed their own course. The wobbly backbones exhibited by local leadership may or may not warrant removal from office while they continue to serve, but they will definitely change the voting plans for many citizens.

Feeling at odds with other people was especially tense during the winter months, when infection rates were up. Everything, it seems, was more tense then.

Their mental health faced challenges like anyone’s. Gen felt hers rise and fall a little but said most days were regular or average, and she is definitely grateful. She still had “some crap days,” as called them, ha. But she shrugs those into the periphery.

Julia said she “hit a wall in November and December, I was just at emotional capacity.” Besides the covid pandemic and intense political climate, which she aptly described as “chaos on all levels,” she was still grieving the loss of her Dad almost a year earlier. Her family had to repeatedly delay his celebration of life (as of this writing they hope to gather safely in April 2022), and that hurt. The Santa Cruz County high school where he taught classes did host a small event just before the holidays. It was all such a depth of emotion to churn and stir and simmer, all while getting through the holidays and staying safe in some of LA’s weeks of most widespread infection. It is no wonder to me that she hit a wall then. But she is bouncing back.

For two adults who so faithfully adhered to the CDC safety protocols, I was curious whether they ever needed to quarantine for specific exposure reasons and whether they ever needed medical attention not related to covid. The answer to both questions was yes, for both ladies.

Julia voluntarily quarantined even harder than usual, for the two weeks preceding her trip to Santa Cruz, to attend her Dad’s school memorial. Gen, frustratingly, learned that on her final day at the LA Phil, when she made a brief appearance to tie up loose ends after working so many months from home, she was exposed to a colleague who tested positive. So she had to quarantine after that. Thankfully, neither Gen nor Julia ever contracted the virus.

As for needing normal medical attention in the midst of this crazy year, their stories are memorable: Julia cooked shellfish one night, and Gen broke her tooth eating it (worth it). So that earned her a trip to the dentist (still worth it). Another painful sounding kitchen injury: Julia was rehydrating dried chiles and burned the skin on her stomach so badly she was worried about infection. This and an unrelated episode of a stye in her eye were both treatable via Telehealth consultations. A miracle of modern connectivity!

Gen and Julia both acknowledged that throughout the year they found themselves “cracking up on the same day,” which had to be interesting. Things are definitely looking up now.

I love my sister and her best friend both so much. Over the years I have joked about Julia being our surrogate Los Angeles sister. There is a lot of comfort in knowing they are close to each other, though far from us. And though they are younger than me, I often catch myself glancing toward them in my thoughts, for a bit of leadership. The coin of affection is protectiveness and love on one side and admiration and curiosity on the other. Gen thinks so clearly, has such calm, steady methods for sifting fact from fiction and for magnetizing good information from all the noise. And Julia is so layered and passionate. As pandemic wore on and global realities evolved month to month, our family Zooms and group chats sometimes included talk about politics and which news sources to trust, and I appreciate that so much.

I asked for their reflections over all, for their big picture perspective on life after this experience. Gen, a true contemplative, was geared up with her answer. She said that pandemic and isolation have offered her an opportunity to “think about the why of things” in her life. “What is friendship? Why are people friends?” Julia chimed in that they had lots of time to more deeply discuss politics, race relations, and myriad social issues. These were fruitful conversations.

They also shared with me that, and this is where they lost me, they spent lots of time talking about farts.

Okay. Wait, farts? Yes, and other bodily functions.

This was about the moment when my otherwise serious interview subjects started laughing like seventh graders, something about Capri Sun lemonade being spat out one day and maybe there was a microwave involved? They were both laughing so hard at this inside joke that their faces turned red and their speech devolved into squealing. I tried laughing with them, but I was 100% laughing at them, laughing uncontrollably. The fact finding was clearly over.

There is no End,
There are Only New Beginnings
XOXOXOXO

counterweight of kindness

On Black Friday of 2019, Rose Marie lost her Mom, Mary Jo Hurst. Though long before we started using words like pandemic and unprecedented, it could be considered the true beginning of pandemic for Rose and her family. Still, there were happy occasions through winter, like a surprise celebration for her husband Lance’s 50th birthday. Everyone came, he was completely surprised, and they made a big, happy family memory at Main Event. In the photo below, from left to right, are Rose and Lance’s grandchildren: Nixon, Leia, Cash, Isabella, and Presleigh.

Certainly it was March 24, 2020, the day they settled her Mom’s estate, that everything felt different. That day is when she first felt the severity of the situation. Real estate agents wore masks. Each party sat in their respective vehicles, waiting for their moment to sign paperwork separately. Her moment of closure was reduced to a swift and impersonal series of tasks.

Rose had begun stocking up on shelf stable provisions before the grocery stores were overrun. She doesn’t remember buying any food that was too extraordinary but does admit that she and Lance just enjoyed a little more of all the foods they love, and she smiled that now maybe there is a little more of her to love, ha. She had no need to hunt for paper goods, thanks to an online service she uses called Who Gives a Crap, a philanthropic mail order company that delivers recycled paper goods to your doorstep, without plastic packaging. It’s an environmentally friendly solution and one that also saved Rose and her family the nuisance of the TP frenzy. We chatted a little about the Doomsday Preppers show and, like I am hearing from so many people, she said, “Nobody’s making fun of them now!”

Lance’s law enforcement job kept him on a mostly uninterrupted schedule, and their grandgirls as she affectionately calls them live in the Tulsa area and coped with fluctuating school plans all year. I know her well enough to say with certainty that Rose’s heart was with them all, and with her adult children, every single day.

Her own job is at our beloved OKC Zoo, where she rises to any challenge they offer. More often than not, she works in client relations and in fact ended the year as Guest Services Supervisor, though she jokes that many days she feels lucky to be a guest services survivor, ha. “Now everything trickles downhill to me,” she laughed. We talked about how her job kept her from ever feeling too isolated, even if the masks sometimes did lend a sense of separation. She gently celebrated having found her “inner introvert,” as being at home was not hard for her. She loved reading more books and listening to more podcasts and audio books. She loved cooking more and shopping online a little. She thrived with a slower pace, outside of her job. “Solitude can be a nice thing,” she said sweetly. Looking forward, she intends to “purposefully appreciate the homebody life.” (Amen.)

Being with the public almost every day, all through the pandemic, my friend said this year has been a study in human behavior. She has a lot to say about how the masses handled things. About what it was like working in a hospitality role at such a bizarre time. She witnessed lots of belligerence and politicizing about masks, anger over closed exhibit buildings and limited entrances, and more. She dealt with hot tempers when people showed up to the zoo on a crowded day or botched their own online reservations. She told me one story when she was able to diffuse a situation: The guest had honestly made a reservation for the wrong day and was nerveshot, asking for help, and Rose said, “It’s ok, nobody knows what day it is anymore!” The trick, she told me, is meeting people where they are.

Gradually, many people did become more cooperative. The school break helped for a while, as did nice weather. Now, as spring takes hold and infection rates are finally relaxing, Rose anticipates more crowds. Hopefully they will be kind and gracious to the zoo staff and to each other. It’s the lack of self regulation that sparks conflict. “There could be a rash of PTSD for folks who manned call centers this year,” she quipped.

Truly, everyone has been feeling Pandemic Weariness. She knows it. She feels it, too.

Regarding people who complained about the temporary shelter in place orders or closed restaurants, Rose was disappointed. It all smacked of shocking entitlement to her, and she said with some exasperation, “Just stay home!” She wondered aloud whether we, collectively, would have survived the hardships of the World War II era. “We should be ashamed,” she said sadly, and doubted whether we are learning any lessons.

Admittedly, the year’s historic social unrest and political divide may have revealed gaps in her knowledge, but Rose has a sensitive, fertile spirit and was eager to learn. She had no trouble zeroing in on hate speech and the lack of human decency. She had no trouble siding with the oppressed, the systematically victimized, and anyone without a voice. Her idealism is not meant to have a Pollyanna view of the world, though. She does “hope we can have gratitude for our privilege” but does not expect everything to change overnight or to be perfect.

When the outside world is saturated with this kind of negative energy, healthy people find ways to balance their own energy. This past year has been revolutionary in some ways, she said, and clinging to positive messages has been key for her. Choosing thought leaders, as she called it. I asked my friend how she chooses the thought leaders worth following. Her criteria are simple and beautiful: They must reinforce the positive, inspire her, and care for the Lesser. She likes Brene Brown, Glennon Doyle and her partner Abby Womback, Jen Hatmaker, Reverend Ed Bacon, and of course Sara Cunningham, the Free Mom Hugs lady.

When Rose mentioned that Jamie Lee Curtis had obtained rights to the Free Mom Hugs movie project, I almost cried. What Rose doesn’t know is that to me, she has always been the Free Mom Hugs woman. For so many reasons, Rose just oozes unconditional acceptance and deep comfort. Even my husband feels it in her presence.

Rose Marie coped with the mounting social tension and Oklahoma’s ever spiking infection rates in a few creative ways. She baked a lot, especially zucchini bread and sweet treats for coworkers. She read voraciously, recommending to me I’m Still Here by Austin Channing Brown, President Obama’s new book The Promised Land, and Between Two Kingdoms by Suleika Jaouad. She also feasted her spirit on “comfort media,” nothing too serious, romantic comedies like Emily in Paris. Rose also researched a few self sufficiency projects that, thankfully, never became necessary. A few emergency house repairs plus normal life stressors, unrelated to the virus and all its fallout, consumed any extra time and energy she had.

A really unique idea she had was something she called a “Tipping Binge.” She literally went out into the world, cash in hand, and found excuses to lavish money on unsuspecting people, mostly retail workers. She loved doing this at Crest grocery stores (in fact I think she stopped at the MWC location on her way to the farm for our interview), because their employees are allowed to accept tips, unlike Wal-Mart, and she could gift both the cashier and the bagger. She tipped at fast food restaurants. She tipped drivers and delivery people and all kinds of strangers. Rose said this idea sprang from observing how much desperate, manic behavior was taking over out in public. She hated to see people trying to do their jobs and getting mistreated. She also felt grateful that her family was able to maintain their lifestyle in the midst of everything, so sharing their abundance only made sense. She and her husband also made extra charitable donations this past year. “You have to be grateful for what you have.”

Rose sat still and wore her mask calmly the entire time we spoke. And she retained full composure of her beautiful self. But the more we discussed our social climate, the more I could feel her peace twisting up. Slowly, a little bit of protective film grew around her countenance, like she was guarding me from her truest emotions. She clearly has deep feelings and strong opinions about the state of our world. Maybe pandemic isn’t exactly the root of it all, but rather the phenomenon that has brought it all into focus. “We are both more and less connected than ever,” she observed sadly. I asked her where we go from here. How do we move forward? Her answer was swift, “We start with the children.”

This is where our conversation got really exciting. I asked Rose, if she were offered a chance to build a curriculum or a program for children, a budget and the means and the time and space to do whatever she said, what would that look like? What would she teach them?

  • We teach philanthropy, and not just the obligatory giving away of money but also the donation of time and energy and talents. We teach them that giving is part of life.
  • We restrict their screen time. We get them outside and out in the world more.
  • We teach them very young how to love the planet, eliminating plastics and caring better for animals.
  • Can we teach them to see similarities between themselves and other children? Is that how we include antiracism? Somehow, she intends, we conquer systemic racism and hate.

After this brief and sudden brainstorm, Rose was visibly lighter. She sat up taller, and her shoulders fell back again, away from her masked face and wispy bangs. She sipped her drink and shifted comfortably in her chair. I observed aloud that those worries must be a heavy weight to carry. She said, “Yes, sometimes it’s too heavy to carry, but you can’t turn away because that’s how it continues.” On those days, rather than turn away, she attempts to counterbalance the weight by doing something charitable. She believes they can somehow, at least energetically, cancel each other out. And I agree. At least internally, as least as a germ sized beginning, an act of Love is much more powerful than any dark thought.

Before we said goodbye, Rose indulged me with a little restaurant dreaming, since she has not been to a restaurant all year long. She and her siblings really miss Joe’s Famous Pizza in Edmond, especially their taco pizza. With a serendipitous nod to their Mom’s name Mary Jo, that is where the family spent much quality time together in the few months after she passed, to nourish each other while packing up her house. She also misses a really good, slow brunch at Cheever’s with “the most perfect rolls in OKC, followed by chicken and waffles, and Brunch Punch.” Yum!

Thank you, Rose, for showing your passionate heart to me. Thank you for the calm you lend to the public scene and for the many small, meaningful blessings your Tipping Binge has cast out into the community. Keep nurturing yourself and your family in all the good ways you already know, and keep hoping for the best in our world. You certainly make it extra wonderful.

XOXOXOXO