Lazy W Marie

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

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a carpenter, an accountant, and a basketball fan walk into a bar

This pandemic interview is with my youngest brother and our parents. Please give a warm welcome to three of the most beloved people in my life!

Thanksgiving 2020 xoxo

The novel corona virus was still a distant concern for Oklahoma in late 2019, as Joe and Alison Dunaway announced to their five adult children a hope to sell their house and downsize. It is a lovely, sturdy, memory-filled, brick two-story on 41st street in northwest Oklahoma City, so why would they leave it?

I’m not saying that’s what started the pandemic. Just floating theories here.

Still, facts is facts: In early March that next spring much of the family, including some grand children, gathered to help with garage demolition, one of the many improvements they wanted to make before listing the property. We had a big family cookout and laughed and played tug o war and even let Dad win at that. Nobody cried openly about abandoning our childhood home. We were on our best behavior, is what I’m saying. But they still wanted to sell.

Within a week, the shut downs happened. And one year later, they still live there, soooo… (author shrugs knowingly)

“It’s not a punishment, it’s a consequence.” ~My mom, about literally everything that felt very much like a punishment when I was little.

Now for their actual pandemic story, and my little brother’s too. They all three visited the farm on the evening of my birthday a few weeks ago and indulged my curiosity. We were eating dinner as I took notes, and it was fun and enlightening. I had no idea my family members were such fully formed human beings:

John Philip Dunaway, supposedly 35 years old, is Joe and Alison’s youngest child and an avid sports fan. Kobe Bryant’s tragic death on January 26, 2020, became a landmark in Phil’s mind, kind of a timeline milestone to which all other headlines became relative. He doesn’t remember worrying about the novel corona virus before that, but he does remember noticing when news of the health scare began to eclipse Bryant’s passing. It felt “surreal” he said. He also remembers the evacuation of the OKC Thunder basketball game on March 12, 2020.

Dad’s attention was grabbed with a twist of skepticism at first. He remembers thinking of the local government, “What do they know that we don’t?”

Mom works for an accounting firm who services mostly trucking companies, so this year of record setting shipping has kept them busy right from the beginning. She has seen in brand new ways, through the invoicing side of operations, how integral truckers are to the smooth functioning of our society.

Her employer acted swiftly that first half of March, 2020, to get everyone working from home. Mom told is about the day they announced it. She used a rolling office chair to cart her own equipment and office supplies to her car then, once home, set it up on her own. The instructions she was given could be summed up as, “Wherever it plugs in, that’s where it works,” and it did. Mom continued working from their living room all year, with the exception of about a week in October when Oklahoma was hit with that historic ice storm and electricity was out for several days. That week, she returned carefully to the office.

She definitely misses her coworkers but has adjusted beautifully over the months. She also appreciates how hard her managers have worked to keep everyone connected, engaged, and motivated. They have hosted online talent shows and parking lot carnivals; they surprise employees with cakes at their door steps; and they just seem to provide the kind of daily support and attention that keeps everyone working well. Mom foresees this remote working situation continuing indefinitely, even after masks are no longer required. She likes not having to spend so much time driving, and she loves having her lunch breaks free for taking neighborhood walks with Muddles and Kate Toto (their four legged daughters).

Philip’s job at the Oklahoma Tax Commission kept him moving all year. Sometimes working from home, sometimes alternating shifts in their building near the Capitol complex to help manage DAV paperwork and mail, also working in a new facility downtown, the one with a great view but questionable elevators. The months have been varied, and he has adapted great. Also, he never got sick despite several coworkers who did. We are so thankful.

Dad’s daily work changed the least. He is a property manager responsible for office buildings all over the city. He wore masks all year long and still does, and though he was inevitably exposed to positive cases he never contracted the virus himself (for which we are so thankful). Most months, building occupancy has been much lighter than usual, of course, thanks to so many people working from home.

I can attest to our parents’ determination to keep the family both healthy and safe as well as connected all year. We have had Zooms calls, sometimes weekly. Our local group has enjoyed a few tentative, distanced gatherings outdoors. And Mom and Dad have redeemed their grandparent privileges by helping chauffeur Angela’s teen aged girls to and from school when needed. Like students everywhere, Chloe and Kenzie have juggled an ever changing schedule, and with their sweet Mom working full time, keeping that world smooth was a beautiful team effort.

Philip is easily our most app-savvy sibling. Early in shut downs when grocery shopping was cumbersome and restaurants were closed, he took the plunge and started using “Shipt” to keep his apartment well stocked.  Everything he needed could be delivered to his door.

Mom and Dad ate in mostly familiar ways throughout pandemic. Mom is diabetic, so she missed out on much of the baking the rest of the world was using to soother their nerves. “It was hard” not having sweets, she said, “But it always is,” Dad added.

Dad stepped in to do much of the grocery shopping since he was already out and about every day, but Mom did share this somewhat disturbing and truly memorable tidbit: At a particularly low point when infection rates and just everything in current events felt especially serious, she went to the store and bought onions and a package of chicken livers to cook for Dad (he is famous for craving liver and onions but rarely eating them because, eww).

Brace yourselves: She wanted Dad to have his favorite meal once more, just in case they died.

I kid you not. She sat across from me at our dining room table and told that story nonchalantly between bites of jasmine rice with feta and Greek chicken.

Dad, seated at her right elbow, turned to her and objected, “What livers? I didn’t get any livers.”

“Well we never died.” And they resumed their meal straight faced.

I cannot make this stuff up.

Speaking of diabetes, Mom was able to use Telehealth consultations to stay in touch with her doctor. She was tested a few times for the virus but never contracted it.

These conversations we have had about this past year have afforded me such a wonderful view of my parents as human beings. Dad surprises me with his optimism and inclusive world view. Mom’s compassion does not surprise me one bit, but it does serve to remind me of her soft, sensitive heart. As for my baby brother, pandemic has caused me to see him as more of an adult than ever before. Yes, I know he is 35. But I was in 6th grade when he was born, so he is often a baby to me. A tall, lanky baby  who has worked at the same government job for 13 years and always brings frozen desserts and his own drinks to family parties.

I wanted to know how they felt in relation to other people. Did they feel in harmony about how to navigate safety protocols, for example? Dad thought for a moment then said gently, like the concept surprised him, “Sure, I don’t remember conflict, but I also didn’t avoid people for differences.”

Mom acknowledged some laxness among certain small groups, maybe less attention to hand washing and sanitizer from time to time, which prompted an interesting story from Dad: Recently, since the winter holidays, the offices he manages are using noticeably less hand sanitizer. We all theorized on whether it is because people are now bringing their own or because they have become less diligent over time. It’s interesting. We reached no conclusions.

Phil felt at ease with people in general, though he did express frustration over our governor having never ordered a statewide mask mandate. Phil shared my appreciation for how Oklahoma City Mayor David Holt handled this exceptional year.

Dad read more books this year than usual but doesn’t remember everything he read. Or at least, few titles stand out. He paused a moment to glare at me over the rim of his glasses, insisted dramatically that he was not invited to the siblings book club even though it is a cold hard fact that he WAS.

Where the Crawdads Sings stands out as a great family reading project. We devoured it en masse then had an outstanding Zoom discussion about it. I so thoroughly loved hearing what my sisters and Mom and Dad thought of the story, the characters, the inbuilt mysteries, and the surprises at the end, all of it. Those of us who love reading got that from our parents the same way we inherited an embarrassing love for good Tex Mex. My fingers are crossed that once the Crawdads movie releases, we can all see it on the same weekend.

The group has been trying to also read Boom Town, but so far we are as unimpressed by the author’s snarkiness as we are entertained by our state’s and city’s history. None of us has finished it yet. Like a quiet rebellion.

Phil misses the frequent Knights of Columbus events, especially football parties and the annual bowling tournament. Dad, whose voluntary role with the K of C has always kept him pretty busy, admits that “having fewer meetings to attend was somewhat relaxing,” though he does miss the people. They tried Zoom a little bit, but it fell somewhat flat.

Mom struggled with such fewer family gatherings this year but said with lots of affection that we have done a good job at creatively seeing each other and not getting sick. So true! Since shut downs last March, we have had a handful of sidewalk and patio visits, one memorable outdoor Thanksgiving, and enough masked car rides to end the year feeling very thankful that no one spread the virus to each other.

True to form, Mom spent a great deal of energy this year talking more to her loved ones, especially her sister Marion and their first cousin, Maureen. This past year has brought innumerable health challenges that compounded some already scary chronic health problems, and the ongoing isolation has been damaging to everyone’s state of mind. Long phone calls and careful but crucial home visits have been literally life saving. For this, Mom will always have my admiration.

Dad shared a depth of optimism that really humbled me. He said it was, “amazing that so many people did cooperate” with the plea to wear masks and socially distance, despite the absence of a statewide mandate. “I have never seen that in my life,” he remarked and, with some of his own humility, added, “My life was less changed than others’.”

Of course he quickly punctured the reverent mood by claiming it was all about his own “abundance of patience.” Ha!

What gifts did pandemic bring my family?

Phil very much liked the stimulus checks, and he earned a significant raise at the Tax Commission this year too. One could say that his pandemic gifts have been abundance and added security.

Mom feels so lucky that no one of our family lost jobs or lives this year. She was visibly moved saying so, fully aware of how close we all could have been to tragedy. They lost many friends to covid-19. “So blessed!” She searched for wood to rap with her knuckles. She also learned how to settle at home more and is determined to “use this year’s experience, not waste time.” Going forward, as the world reopens, she intends to be more selective and deliberate about how she lives her life.

Dad shared that pandemic sharpened his awareness of the interrelationships that exist in the world, between everything. Society, families, everything. It is all connected. Did it change his view of essential workers? “Nope. Maybe I just see degrees of essential. I always saw them as essential, everyone is in a continuum. It’s a cohesive, holistic society.” He made great big, round shapes in the air with his arms as he said this. I thought for sure we were on the verge of another rant about the myth of overpopulation. Instead, he continued making his point, “There are so many interdependent tasks, who is not essential?” At that I choked back some actual tears.

He also reflected that he had taken for granted the ability to see people, and that this experience “makes it more precious. You realize you need it.” (Ok Dad you can join our book club jeez.)

How fun to hear about the television they watched like Cobra Kai and to be zero percent surprised that Mom is sick of television after a year indoors. Philip is such a movie buff, and as for television he remembers gobbling up the original Twilight Zone series as well as Hercules.  

I could go on for hours about my family and bet you could about yours, too. Suggestion: If you want to start a great conversation with your parents, ask them their opinions of why liquor stores never closed during pandemic.

The End.
XOXOXO

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.

House repairs can quickly spiral out of control—a small roof leak might lead to water damage, or a minor electrical issue could require costly rewiring. When maintenance demands become overwhelming, selling the property for cash can be the smartest move. Many homeowners can go to home buyers in Charlotte, they handle the sale quickly, bypassing the stress of ongoing repairs and moving forward without the burden of unfinished projects.

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

she is full of freedom

On March 6, 2020, Kellie Sperry went with friends Roanne and Rose to the Lauren Daigle concert in Oklahoma City (it turned out to be the second to last live concert Daigle performed before shut down). The night was filled with inspiration, emotional release, and some much needed connection to God and faith and peace. That next week was when the Thunder basketball game emptied out before tipoff and everything changed overnight.

A licensed counselor by trade, Kellie’s already heavy job was about to take on brand new weight. Add to that, the traumatic ending of her marriage of almost 25 years, and everything was in flux.”Flux is the story of my life,” she claimed peacefully.

To borrow her metaphor: When a person’s life is turned upside down and all the contents tumble out of so many boxes all over the floor, it is messy. Decades’ worth of memories, habits, effort, fear, values, hopes and dreams, loves and hurts, plans and mistakes and victories and so many other things, are strewn about in unpredictable, sometimes startling new shapes and piles. Some forgotten things are exposed to the light of day in new ways. Some things are beaten and crumpled a bit more than others, maybe shattered beyond repair; some things need to be either purged forever or dusted off , polished, and quickly put back in order. Many things can wait while the storms rage. Flux.

Kellie’s past year has been like this and then some, but she is flourishing in all the colorful chaos, despite the added layer of pandemic storms that roar all around her. Forty-five years old, newly divorced and living alone for the first time in her life, rebuilding friendships on her own terms, helping clients navigate an unprecedented time in history, she is centered in Love. She is looking honestly at the overturned boxes of her life and feeling a delicious calm, no trace of panic for all the mess, in fact, some excitement for her sense of autonomy.

 “So far I’ve landed upright, and that’s all that matters. And everything else will be where I place it.” When she said where I place it, I got chills. It reminded me of the power, the responsibility, of deliberate living.

So many people are in flux.

Without a doubt, this past
year has taken a toll on people’s mental health. Groups and individuals of
every variety, everywhere, have been pushed to new thresholds and challenged in
ever compounding ways. Historically, this pandemic may even surpass the OKC
bombing and the 9/11 attacks, due to its global scale, sustained force, and ongoing
traumas. “This is unprecedented,” she said, more than once. And for
the first time in her career, counselors were walking their patients through
trauma that, largely, they themselves were also facing. “Both of us are
coping with the same stressors,” she said, a weirdly unique situation.

The pandemic has made it clear that mental health isn’t just about what happens in therapy sessions—it’s about the daily rituals, the self-care practices, and the holistic approaches that help people regain balance in a world that often feels unsteady. For many, this means turning to alternative therapies that complement traditional mental health treatments, providing an additional layer of healing and resilience.

One such approach gaining attention is acupuncture. Rooted in ancient Chinese medicine, acupuncture has long been used to address physical ailments, but its benefits for mental health are just as profound. By targeting specific points in the body, acupuncture helps regulate the nervous system, reduce stress hormones, and promote relaxation—something desperately needed in a time of heightened anxiety.

Those searching for acupuncture near me are often looking for relief from chronic stress, insomnia, and even depression, seeking a way to quiet the mental noise that has only grown louder over the past year. As people explore new methods of self-care, acupuncture offers a gentle yet effective way to restore equilibrium, helping individuals find moments of peace amid the ongoing uncertainties of modern life.

Her group practice made the switch to Telehealth (remote counseling
sessions) around March 24th. This of course brought its own inherent challenges, but overall Kellie describes it as, “an extraordinarily rewarding and more intimate” setting. She misses the intimacy of sharing physical space with and reading body language and energy from her clients; but that has been traded for glimpses into their homes, quick appearances from pets and toddlers and partners, not to mention her own physical safety and comfort in her newly feathered, solo nest. It is all “complicated, beautiful, challenging, and rewarding.”

However, the move to Telehealth does raise questions for those interested in starting their own mental health practice. For anyone wondering how do i start a mental health business, the shift to virtual services has created both opportunities and challenges. Starting a mental health business today requires an understanding of the technology involved, how to maintain client confidentiality in an online space, and how to build a strong rapport without in-person interaction. With the right tools and approach, though, Telehealth can offer a unique way to connect with clients while ensuring their safety and comfort, both physically and emotionally.

How wonderful that our society is changing its outlook on mental health! How wonderful that more of us are seeking therapy in proactive ways, without the old stigmas, as an integral part of our human experience.

This year, of course, many people are seeking help to cope directly with, well, all of 2020, including but certainly not limited to the virus itself. Kellie and her colleagues have seen a dramatic uptick in anxiety disorders and trauma responses. People have been stirred up by the political divide and social unrest. There is just a lot to process, and most people’s mental health has fluctuated wildly all year long. All of that is normal. In fact, Kellie hopes we can normalize talking about our feelings more, acknowledging them, and seeking to understand each other better. “I am okay, even though…” is a phrasing exercise she shared with me. She even bravely suggested that we face all our fears and express gratitude for what we discover in the pit, when we land there sometimes. Because we don’t stay there, and we can learn from it.

That kind of honest emotional inventory—“I am okay, even though…”—is more than just a coping mechanism; it’s a gentle reminder that strength and struggle can coexist. Anxiety doesn’t need a dramatic reason to show up. Sometimes it’s loud, sometimes it hums quietly beneath the surface, but it’s always real. And for many, the rollercoaster of recent years has magnified its presence, bringing suppressed emotions to the forefront.

Therapy becomes essential in these moments, not just as a crisis intervention, but as a form of self-respect. And with online counselling becoming more widely available, support is now more accessible than ever. It means people can connect with professionals from the safety and comfort of their own space—whether that’s during a lunch break, after the kids are asleep, or in the middle of a sleepless night.

This ease of access matters, because when anxiety feels overwhelming, even getting out the door can be too much. Online platforms remove that barrier, giving more people the chance to process, heal, and grow—without needing to wait for the perfect moment. Healing, after all, often begins in the mess, not the miracle.

Besides counseling, what can people do to improve their mental and emotional well being?

Kellie advocates strongly for physical activity, not just for the obvious bodily rewards but also for “how it impacts mental health.” I asked her how much we need, and she answered swiftly, “As much as you can get.” She mentioned again the widespread prevalence this year of anxiety, depression, grief, and trauma; and she affirmed that moving your body can help with all of those ailments. Her own regimen has been a steady dose of walking every day (in the sun as often as possible) and attending Orange Theory. “OT Fitness is a gift,” she said blissfully. The gyms were closed for several months, of course, but now she is attending classes three or four times per week and loves it. She loves it for the endorphins and the muscle conditioning, and she loves it for how it helps her release pent up emotion. She also values the community there, all of which contribute to her overall well being.

She and I commiserated on other basic human needs like drinking lots of water, practicing good nutrition, seeking sunshine in all kinds of ways, and feeding true human connections. Connection is a big one, kind of a headline this year. “Go deep or go home,” she said, smiling and shrugging. The value of deep interpersonal connection is huge. We all have felt its absence then enjoyed its happy return, maybe this past year more than ever. Cultivate it in your life.

Kellie also urges everyone to consider what self care looks like, specifically to you. Be honest with yourself, test your instincts and hone them over time, then go ahead and tend to your needs. It’s ok. Maybe learn about the characteristics of introverts, extroverts, and ambiverts. The best self care you provide “will come from a place of truly knowing yourself” and “noticing the moment, being truly present in it.”

I wanted to hear some details about Kellie’s personal pandemic memories. Her favorite stress snacks were miniature chocolate-peanut butter cups from Trader Joe’s. Yes, she always had more than enough toilet paper. Yes, she started a new hobby, gardening, though that is an example of how pandemic woke her from what she called “sleep walking.” She had been craving to start a garden for years, but a brief inkling of food scarcity in the grocery stores plus an abundance of time at home finally prompted her to just start. Yes, her first garden was beautiful and rewarding, and she plans to continue! Yes, she did plenty of baking, but more batches of cookies than loaves of bread, as she is still getting acquainted with the unfamiliar counter space in her new home. Did her view of essential work evolve over this past year? “I love the UPS drivers. I want to say thank you so much for working!”

And yes, she too is weary. She is weary of missing people, of missing community. Pandemic woke her up to many values, perhaps chief of which is that of defaulting to “Love my neighbor.” She has struggled with how some Christians resist masks and assert their beliefs in unloving, selfish ways.

Kellie is more intentional these days and is working to squash some people pleasing tendencies, choosing instead to listen to her gut and live authentically as much as possible. This has been empowering, and she does not bemoan the process. “Pain makes us grow,” she observed.  

Kellie is in such a wondrous stage of metamorphosis, I wanted to capture the moment while anticipating what might come next. I asked her for a message she would give to her future self. She took a deep, calming breath then said, “Be present. Listen. Have fun. Chase sunshine! And Love your neighbors.”

Amen, my beautiful friend.

“I am full of freedom.”
~Kellie, November 2019
XOXOXOXO

pandemic honeymoon

Please meet two of the warmest, steadiest, most fun and truly loving people in Oklahoma, Tom and Raylene Harrison. They are parents to one of our best friends Meredith, grandparents to my little garden buddy Maddie, and regulars at the annual Lazy W Talent Shows, among other events. They were kind enough last week to share their pandemic memories and insights with me, and I am so thankful. Enjoy!

Before the novel corona virus arrived in Oklahoma, Tom Harrison was “not at all” aware of it. His wife Raylene had caught a report about it on the CBS morning news but was not worried. They were busy about their lives, volunteering in the community, working in their small church, and loving their big, beautiful, multi-generational family. In early March, 2020, the Harrisons remember doing things like enjoying a Saint Patrick’s Day-themed Bunco party and attending a Master Gardeners’ board meeting in Oklahoma City. Their daughter Renee and her husband John had just celebrated their wedding anniversary. These would be the last normal feeling events in the Harrisons’ life that year.

Together with seven other devoted people, the Harrisons lead the First Christian Church of OKC, which is housed at the locally famous “egg church” on northwest 36th street and connected to the Jewel Box Theater. They boast a small congregation centered on serious, joyful love and unqualified acceptance. “We like quality over quantity,” Tom quipped cheerfully. And I believe him.

Their Sunday morning service on March 15, 2020, is when things began to seem different. The threat of the virus felt real, so they reluctantly announced that morning that it would be their last church gathering for a while. They quickly reorganized to accommodate the roughly 50 members with phone contact, mail outs, and online service. Tom and three of his colleagues continued working at the church office for a while, getting everything set up.

With church plans tucked in and underway, the Harrisons turned their attention to quarantine preparedness at home and to caring for Raylene’s then 93 year old mother (she turned 94 this recent January). At her adult daughters’ urging, Raylene began shopping for groceries exclusively online, disinfecting all surfaces, and avoiding public gatherings. As the limited science filtered in about covid-19, their biggest mission became clear: Keep Mom safe and healthy. She lives near them, in her own home, and is thankfully healthy and vibrant. They were determined to keep it that way.

I was entranced listening to Raylene share her own Mom’s memories of the polio scare when Raylene was a toddler. She reports that they faced “antivaxxers” then too, and that yes, even then, without the internet, the masses found ways to politicize public health. The social divide was very real. She herself had no vaccine hesitation, no fear then or now. “We’ll get through this, we’ll persevere,” she assured Raylene, who in turn assured me.

I was curious how pandemic affected their day to day life, how their eating habits changed, how they spent their free time, how they communicated. They indulged all my curiosities and then some.

As for their quarantine diet, Tom nodded slowly as he announced rather matter of factly and without a trace of regret that they have made “very little effort to be wise.” His dryness about it all actually made me laugh, whether it was meant to or not, ha! He said they enjoyed lots of mashed potatoes and gravy, biscuits and gravy, and plenty of their favorite homemade desserts. Comfort food, though, not stress snacks, because there is a difference. Though Raylene did not herself join the sourdough craze, a friend of hers kept their house full of fresh baked bread, and in June they received a porch delivery of homemade cinnamon rolls. So, yes, they ate really well.  

Tom and Raylene have always been avid restaurant goers and are movie buffs, favoring actual brick and mortar cinemas in normal times. This year they have missed eating at places like The Red Cup (on north Classen, a really nice little vegan coffee shop!) and an Italian spot on Paseo called Picasso’s. In fact, Picasso’s might be their first restaurant visit when everything feels safe again. They have only been to a movie theater twice this year: Once to see Tenet (Tom neither liked it nor got it) and once with their grandson to see Croods 2 (more on that later).

Thankfully, though once Tom was briefly exposed to the wife of a positive-testing congregation member, both of the Harrisons remained healthy and covid-free all year, as did Raylene’s Mom. During the incubation period for Tom’s possible infection, Raylene spent fourteen days at her Mom’s house and cared for her there. They couldn’t risk both of them being sick at once. She also stayed with her Mom for nine days during the blizzard.

Their physical health only suffered a little, with regard to stamina and very minor weight gain (same here). But gardening season always helps (yep). Raylene loves to stay active and predicts big improvements to her vitality this spring and summer.  In addition to this, Tom was honest about his mental health, admitting that it went backwards for a time, wondering aloud if maybe he enjoyed being alone a little too much (again, me too!). “There is a sense of relief from obligations,” he said, “but that can lead to too much isolation.”

Both the Harrisons are civic minded and generous to a fault, so I have no doubt that when they are ready, their calendars will fill up again. But how much, and how fast? Raylene said gently, “We want to have some control” and that they will “enjoy doing what is not a burden.” (Gosh this is a great reminder for me.)

They absolutely managed to adapt, choosing to have fun and see all their new challenges as opportunities. Normally Tom is responsible for one sermon per month at their church. During shut downs and remote worship services, he employed all kinds of graphics, music, and other technological wonders to spice up his messages. He rarely showed his face but had lots of fun being creative and engaging members who might not normally feel comfortable with online church. He used old music recordings, too, and to date the community has not missed a single Sunday service. They may even continue some of their multimedia efforts after they return to traditional gatherings.

For such a tightly knit family, centered around Choctaw and Shawnee, how did the Harrison clan stay connected all year? Well, they just did their best. They worked to “meet them where they are” as Raylene described it, which is also their approach at church.

They missed each other dearly and especially missed out on connecting with the grandkids. But they made efforts to talk on the phone more, use social media, and be creative as the months wore on and the changes and challenges persisted.

In June, Tom and Raylene opened their gorgeous backyard for a masked, well distanced family gathering, sans food or drink. They all just needed to see each other. It was the only such gathering all year, and Raylene shared that she cried after everyone left.

Then in August, 2020, when Oklahoma was baking beneath the summer sun, indifferent to the pandemic, and everyone was exhausted from, well, everything, Raylene was inspired to try something new. Her brother Jerry was in hospice care for stage four cancer, and the pain of not being able to see him was enormous for everyone, especially for their matriarch, who had been safely quarantined all year. Raylene consulted with Tom and her sister to plan a trip to Branson. They announced the idea to Mom, who needed little convincing. The heartbreak of not being with Jerry was somewhat lessened by a deliberate choice to be together in a safe way, and in a new environment for just a few days. It was less a vacation than a family retreat, a few days of grieving and safe harbor, together. They felt “blessed to be together.” Jerry passed away on September 1st.

For Thanksgiving, everyone ate at their respective homes, then they hosted a family game night on Zoom. The next month their nine year old grandson chose to quarantine himself for two weeks in order to safely visit his grandparents for three days at Christmas. To make it special, the trio found the movie Croods 2 playing in OKC. They were the only people in the theater, and they had a blast!

Tom and Raylene have been married for 32 years. I was really excited about our Zoom conversation, eager to listen to their stories and glean how this bizarre time in history might have affected such a well established couple. First, a few observations from me: They never interrupted or over spoke each other. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, they glanced and smiled at each other almost constantly. They told the same stories, together in harmony, without exactly finishing each other’s sentences. I heard lots of sweet “yeps” and “vice-versas” from Tom and saw many slow, gentle nods from Raylene, both of them smiling.

I finally asked them directly how pandemic affected their marriage. I loved that they were both willing to explore that. They agreed that they are both good listeners by nature, which made an unusually quiet year seem extra quiet. But? They didn’t necessarily see that as a bad thing. They seemed to enjoy the opportunity to talk more with just each other, to make even better connections. They agreed to feeling closer to each other now than they did one year ago, which they  both found reassuring. (Note to young couples: Even after 32 years you can grow closer and discover new depth in your union. You can also still need these things more than you realize.)

Like Tom, Raylene confessed to liking the massive shed of obligations. They had been keeping pretty hectic schedules prior to shut downs, even deep into retirement, volunteering and staying active in the community. To fill their new wealth of free time, they did a handful of fun home improvement projects. They de-cluttered everywhere. They relocated their dining table and chairs to a more spacious room. They painted one half of the rooms in their house, added a custom wooden beam mantelpiece to  their fireplace, and continued doting on Raylene’s extensive indoor garden, which miraculously survived our insane winter.

They nested! They had a little pandemic honeymoon, and they nested.

Also? How delightful to learn that these smart, community minded, deeply loving, spiritually alert people were not above some indulgent television watching during pandemic. The shows they remembered easily were The Crown, The Queen’s Gambit, and Cobra Kai. Lots of Netflix, but no bingey repeats, which is a detail that sets them apart.

Talking to Raylene, I felt like I benefitted from a secondhand conversation with her 94 year old mother, too. She has a warm steadiness about her, a pragmatic spirit which she has imparted to her entire family (her granddaughter Meredith is one of my best friends so I am an expert in this matter). She seems to understand that energy is something you can choose spend, so why waste it on things you cannot control? She (and, accordingly, Tom & Raylene) teaches an appreciation for quality of life. How beautiful that she also is enjoying longevity.

Today, the Harrison clan is healthy and almost fully vaccinated. Going forward, they expect to be more of aware of infectious diseases in general. They are open to wearing masks in some situations, too. No surprise to me that Tom and Raylene managed to unearth humor and love in this exceptional year. They left me with simple advice: “We’re all in this together. You don’t have to say everything you think. Just think about your audience, who you’re saying it to.”

There’s room for everyone at the table. Walk in love. And go ahead and have something with gravy.

“We’re all in this together.”
XOXOXOXO

romance right now

Happy Valentine’s Day, friends! Is your romantic celebration looking different this year? Ours definitely is. And I actually love it.

My husband has been working extraordinary hours this month. His normal Commish responsibilities, plus the weight of legislative season, all compounded by the ongoing complex problems brought to the utility industries by this crazy weather… The man is giving it all, 24/7. Although we have been together at the farm pretty solid since mid March of last year, these recent weeks he has felt a bit absent. Even when he emerges from his upstairs office, he is barraged with phone calls, texts, emails, and ongoing new emergencies at all hours of the day, every day. We never know how much down time we are going to enjoy together.

This may sound a bit grueling for our marriage, like a low key complaint, but that’s not at all how I mean it.

Not only am I immensely proud of the work he does, and the fact that he is happy to pour himself into it, but also I see a few beautiful daily constants remain for us:

We always drink coffee together in the morning; we never miss dinner together; and we always go to bed at the same time. There are plenty more sweet, unexpected ribbons of time together throughout each day, for which I am thankful, but the other day it struck me that those three rituals seem to be non negotiable. What a gift.

I am thankful that we have such a well established rhythm and harmony, so we can absorb disruptions of every variety and remain in step. I am thankful that our feelings come from somewhere deep, like abundant well water, rather than from intermittent rainfall. We can keep up with shifting circumstances, and I love that.

This snapshot was taken in the French Quarter at a very cool little artists’ walk we both love. He was refusing to let me smooch him like I wanted to. Then he grabbed me and held me up in the air. xoxo

For posterity, I feel like documenting what romance looks like this Valentine’s weekend, in pandemic, during an historic winter storm, while my man is purely exhausted from his day job:

Romance in times like these can look like chopping the frozen pond and troughs several times per day.

It can look like taking overlapping conference calls in ear buds so he can drive to town and buy horse blankets because his wife is worried sick about Chanta and Dusty.

Romance can be grocery shopping together well ahead of the snowstorm and unceremoniously handing each other boxes of chocolate to take home, then laughing out loud inside our masks like it’s the best joke ever.

Romance, in fact, is laughing together every chance we get, at anything we want. It’s also watching documentaries together, and freely criticizing strangers who join cults.

Romance is trading prayer requests with each other, for the people each of us talks to separately, as well as updating each other on good news and difficult news. Romance is counting our blessings as if it is the counting of them that makes them real.

Romance turns out to be old school, crayon-decorated coupons for massages that he is too tired to give and future outings that we cannot guarantee, because the tradition is old and good and happy. Romance can be homemade brownies filled with chopped up candy bars. Steaks that are sort of shaped like hearts and layers and layers of silky, fuzzy blankets.

Romance is obsessively loving every single animal together, so much. It is wearing your black felt cowboy hat and winter coat with the upturned collar (so sexy) to gather shivering ducks so they can warm up in the bathtub and then cuddling an overly attached a cat who won’t stop fake nursing our blankets. Romance is clearing ice from horse hooves even though your sweatpants are making you crazy and your eyes hurt.

Romance is troubleshooting every single cool breeze you detect and investigating every sound that might be a troubled pipe.

Romance is checking on your friends together and being proud of the kids together.

Romance is selecting television distractions that won’t drive your wife too crazy and playing UNO even when you are dead tired and she mostly wins. : )

A different hat than he gets to wear this week, but honestly he wears them all so well.

Sometimes romance is jewelry and rose bouquets, fancy restaurant dinners and cologne. But we have no need of that stuff now.

Gulf coast getaway 2019

Soon, babe, we will get dressed up, go out on the town, and maybe even travel. Until then, I am happy to get bundled up and care for the farm together.

I am so happy to cook our dinners and desserts here, take hasty hot showers to protect the septic field, and live thereafter in soft pajamas. These nine acres are paradise to me, and you make it all better. You embody all the romance in the world, and I am so glad you are still my Valentine.

NOW DRAW FOUR BITCHEZ
XOXOXOXO