Lazy W Marie

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

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

heather reigns it all in

Please say hello to Heather Davis, a truly remarkable woman I met first through blogging then through a group speaking event about motherhood. She is smart and funny, and her pandemic story is fascinating. Dive in!!

Just before Christmas break in December, 2019, a student in Heather Davis’ 7th grade English  class exploded into the classroom, brandishing a fantastic tale of a deadly new virus spreading around the globe, soon destined for the United States. “Reign it in, buddy,” she told him, and resumed teaching. She didn’t remember having heard anything significant about it on NPR, so she assumed it was a pop culture topic.

The outburst did, however, give her pause to reconsider that in March, 2019, she and her family had travelled to China and noticed everyone wearing masks like it was the most natural thing in the world. They asked then why it was such a common practice, learned that people used them for a variety of better breathing reasons, and were offered some for sale. Heather declined then but one full year later ended up regretting that a little.

Fast forward to February 2020, and Heather was preparing for her National Board recertification when the news of the novel corona virus officially reached her awareness. The news worsened week by week until it became obvious that her complex testing plans would be tabled indefinitely. As president of the Education Association in Bartlesville, OK, Heather was made part of a newly formed “Pandemic Task Force” that took action just as Spring Break was due to begin in mid March.

That week in March, 2020, was special for another reason, though: Twenty two years previous on March 19th, she and another teacher, Brian, had eloped! To celebrate their wedding anniversary, the Davises did another sort of eloping by sneaking off to a restaurant just over the Kansas border. That was their last normal feeling event before shut downs, and it barely felt normal.

Back home, the Davises focused on the onslaught of crisis management tasks and decisions. Brian used Instacart to supply their groceries, and Heather’s recounting gently chided her husband for accumulating “lots of food that nobody eats!” They had so much extra flour. Yes, eventually they did join the sourdough craze (watch for how that started in a student story later). Heather admits that they already possessed 80 rolls of toilet paper, stocked up before the shortage happened please note, thanks to an Amazon membership. She remembers looking at the wall of TP in their garage, first feeling a bit guilty, then wondering if they should hide it from toilet-paperless marauders. She is a fan of dystopian literature, after all, so we cannot blame her imagination for exploring this possibility.

Mask wearing was an easy choice for the Davis clan. Their first ones were rolled up bandannas, then a neighbor sewed them some, and Brian’s Mom made them some too. At the time their younger daughter, Briley, had a job at a local custard stand owned by some family friends. Heather remembers feeling confident that the owners would enforce mask wearing (which they did, while the stand was still open) but also impressing on her daughter that regardless of their decision, she would wear one. (Which she did.)

As Heather answered my myriad questions and reflected on her year in pandemic, she exhibited parallel love and concern for her two families: Her husband, Mom and kids at home and her colleagues and students at school. Her deep love for both big groups was obvious, and often the stories were intertwined. Beginning in March of last year and tracking all through that spring and summer, the shaky return to school, the holidays, and the dark, sad end of winter, up to vaccinations and now spring break all over again, Heather kept everyone’s needs in full view and seemed to maintain her equilibrium beautifully. I was impressed and humbled. (Also a little mad, because she is the only person I have spoken to who managed to lose 40 pounds last year, excuse me, what?!)

If she made any of it look, easy, that was an illusion.

Her Mom, who lives with the family in Bartlesville and needs daily care following a stroke several years ago, contracted the virus close to the holiday season, despite the whole family taking extreme precautions to protect her. Heather fished through her memories for a sliver of understanding of how she might have been exposed, like it still bothered her, and kind of narrowed it down to October 20th when they ran some errands together. In early November her Mom woke up feeling poorly then was quite sick for some time. She exhibited strange symptoms, at first mostly stomach problems, then a fever, and finally coughing that persisted as much as month later. Heather remembers with lots of unease several times she would approach her Mom, who was asleep and maybe slumping in her wheelchair, and suddenly fear the worst. She just wasn’t herself. Once Mom finally recovered, she told Heather that she remembered a sensation of fading away, not quite like falling asleep, something worse. She didn’t want to die. The horror stories circulating from around the country understandably lent a lot of tension and worry to the household. Phrases like “it’s a horrible death,” kind of echoed in their minds.

An example of how intertwined Heather’s worlds are is that during her Mom’s struggle with covid, while Heather was teaching online every day, her students asked lovingly for daily updates, “How’s your mom?”

For middle schoolers, the weight of the pandemic was considerable. The uncertainty of it all “really impacted the students’ mental health.” Heather recounted several episodes when she tried to buoy their spirits. One day after a series of technology malfunctions and average school day frustrations having nothing to do with actual mortality, she said cheerfully, “We will survive!” A seventh grader volleyed back heavily, “Unless we don’t,” and it wasn’t funny. She knew these kids were aware of what was happening in the world. They were worried. Their emotions were all over the place. And they were far from immune from getting sick. Heather shared the story of an eighth grade female athlete, the daughter of her cousin. She was an active, healthy, vibrant girl, who contracted the virus and is now facing serious liver issues.

The Davises’ two daughters are in high school and college. Their older daughter, Hadley, initially believed college classes might continue, thanks to belonging to a small campus. But that changed, and she soon had to make drastic adjustments to her schedule and living situation. She faced brand new anxieties, health challenges, and shifting roommate dynamics. In short, an already challenging young life was made much more complicated by the pandemic. It was a lot to cope with.

Briley had been working hard on her high school grades as well as opportunities for a softball scholarship. Her team was well ranked and eager to perform for recruiters, but the shut downs and delayed playing schedules left everything up in the air for a time. They eventually did travel to play in state championships, with safety protocols in place, but the Davises felt that constant tension of what might no longer be possible for her.

Covid hit close to the Davis household in many ways.

Their Mom was seriously ill. Their cousin’s daughter’s health could be forever compromised. Then, Heather lost an uncle to the virus two days after Christmas, just as her Mom was recovering. They experienced grief coupled with a sort of covid survivor’s guilt. Heather declined the funeral for safety reasons but attended the graveside service from a distance and live-streamed parts of it for family members who couldn’t attend.

Then a difficult holiday season, with just one week in the classroom before they retreated fully to distance learning, led to an especially dark, stressful January. Those long weeks stretched on until they heard rumors of a vaccine. A light at the end of the tunnel. On February 12, 2021, Heather and her colleagues celebrated news of the 300 shots that were made available. The school district hosted a clinic on February 15 for that many teachers to receive their first shot. As of the day Heather and I spoke, they were still ironing out the details for their second doses.

I had a hard time getting Heather to talk about how pandemic affected her personally. She was, in the most loving ways, so invested in everyone else’s well being.  But eventually she relented. “I’m doing ok.” We were on Zoom, so I watched her bright face carefully. She blinked in an acknowledging way, and smiled, but looked down for a moment. She used this analogy to describe her year in pandemic: It was like going on a long hike, the same walk you have always taken, but gradually people begin to load you with weighted backpacks and more and more gear. It’s a familiar path, much of it is normal work, but the burdens are heavier and heavier. It just keeps piling on. Heather shared that at some point she craved relief in the form of novelty.

This is how she turned to gardening. Heather does not claim to be an avid gardener, nor does she say that she exactly joined the gardening craze this past year, but she did play with dirt and flowers. It seemed like something totally new, something with no expectations and no need for improvement. Essentially it was a brand new distraction, and “no one can pile onto novelty.” (The freeform gardener in me secretly cheered for this experience.)

In a year rife with political and social upheaval, Heather stayed active in local campaign efforts. She said the contactless environment made for a surprisingly fun new method of “no knock” door to door flyer drops. Except for one neighborhood dog confrontation (a known a**hole according to an unhelpful eyewitness) which left her hiding behind a glass storm door for her husband to rescue her, it went smoothly. It also afforded her time to walk and think and not be on her phone.

Heather spent as much time reading as she could. She learned that reading actual books, at a distance from her phone, was best. She took every book recommendation her students made, too, often favoring memoirs and biographies but also indulging in suspense when she needed the escape.

We talked about anxiety in the pandemic and about how there was no foundation for this, that it was all a big shared experience and a learning experience. I adored every detail of how she kept her family safe and how she kept her students engaged, teaching her traditional civil rights unit and tackling a creative new locker hall timeline project. She read current and relevant books with them, pushed them to write their own autobiographies, and more.

Early on in pandemic, when remote learning was brand new, she hosted optional nightly read-alouds on Zoom. This had incredible participation rates, especially considering it was optional. The books they gobbled up were Refugee by Alan Gratz, Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli, and Wonder by RJ Palacio. (You can bet I will be reading these this summer.) It was during one of these reading sessions that a student, who seemed constantly to baking something delicious, told Heather all about sourdough bread and how, “Yes Mrs. Davis you can make your own starter, it’s so great!” All these months later Heather was still visibly delighted by this.

Without a doubt, Heather reminds me of all my favorite teachers between 6th and 12th grade. I loved talking to her so much that I wanted to diagram one of my own horrible, meandering sentences just to prove to her that I can, ha! I also hope she does another virtual read along and invites me.

Something extra special about Heather’s year in pandemic has been her postcard project. I had been noticing it on Instagram for a while and was excited to hear the back story. It turned out to be deliciously simple: She just needed positive moments in her day, every day. So on January first she just decided to spread positive words. She started keeping a stack of various postcards on her desk and, every single morning since, like clockwork, writes something encouraging to another person and mails it. The recipient might be a friend or family member, it might be a student or a former student, it could even be a stranger. The small effort infuses her day with love, and you can tell that other people love it even more. A friend of hers was so touched by the project that she gifted Heather with a year’s worth of postage, to “keep it afloat.”

A little bit of a happy epilogue for this wondrous family: As of this writing, everyone is vaccinated and healthy, including Heather’s Mom. Spring Break rolled around again, and it was blissfully devoid of cumbersome taskforce meetings. Hadley is nurturing her health and plugging away at college. Briley’s hard work has paid off, and she earned that coveted softball scholarship for college. This is truly amazing in a year with so many ups and downs. Congratulations! Heather continues her daily postcards, which help her grab those ever crucial positive moments. And most exciting? Today is the Davises’ wedding anniversary!!

Thank you, Heather, for your time and for sharing such an intimate look at what pandemic was like for a woman who wears so many important hats. My love and admiration go out to you. Even though you had the nerve to lose weight in this year when we were all supposed to be in it together and gain a bit.

finding their own rhythm in the storm

Lynn Crowe Richardson and her husband Jimmy Dale Richardson are born and bred Oklahoma treasures, owners of Teaze dance studio in Midtown OKC, and fixtures in not just the local entertainment scene but also the national and worldwide Rockabilly touring circuits. They are entertainers and creatives who we love dearly. When pandemic hit our state, it hit this beautiful couple in every imaginable way. I am so thankful Lynn took the time to share her experience with me.

March 13, 2020, was the last normal feeling event for Lynn before pandemic changed everything. She had booked a floor entertainment gig at the Osage Casino in northeast Oklahoma. The virus had infiltrated Oklahoma in small numbers then but was not yet spreading a panic. Just a low key rumbling, an unsettled feeling like before a big tornado. Lynn remembers blocking out the casino floor for her feather-adorned showgirls. She remembers distributing party favors and holding face to face conversations with strangers (certainly nobody was wearing masks then), noting that it all felt somehow wrong. She remembers thinking, “Everything is about to change.”

Lynn’s instincts were right. In fact, she was one of the first people here to notice that something was amiss in China, long before the virus was a reality on U.S. soil. With a note of caution and concern that was largely dismissed as fearful or irrelevant, she posted stories about emptied city streets, month long quarantines, and police enforced curfews. She asked astutely why nobody here was taking it seriously. She was, from my perspective, one of our first locals who was heralding the virus on social media. But her livelihood depends on people and lots of interaction. It was a conundrum. This sad irony and basic incongruity of values would come to illustrate much of her coming year. But, as I think you will see, she discovered internal resources that pulled her and her family through it all.

Early on, while doctors were still scrambling to understand the novel corona virus, Lynn and Jimmy both fell ill, twice. They were very sick, exhibiting symptoms like difficulty breathing, fevers, body aches, and even the loss of smell; but neither of them ever tested positive for covid-19, which was bewildering. In March, Jimmy was sick enough to visit the hospital, and the scene there was anything but normal. They waited for nurses in outside tents, and Lynn described the strangeness of not being able to accompany her husband into the hospital when his turn finally came. In September, they were sick all over again; and during this same time Lynn was suffering a tingling in her spine which they suspected was a side effect of the illness. Jimmy has suffered allergies and asthma his entire life, which were exacerbated by the illness. They both recovered eventually, but they suffered plenty in the mean time, depending on affordable over-the-counter medicine and lots of self care to bounce back. Thankfully they are both healthy today.

At every step, Lynn’s telling of these personal stories included a parallel concern for strangers. She said that their ongoing health problems spurred compassion for people who were losing loved ones. Even when their path took them on understandable bouts with anger and frustration, they managed to always arrive again in a place of gratitude for what they have and sensitivity to the fact that others often have it worse. This is exactly her spirit: Simultaneous and heated social awareness with every real personal storm she weathers. My friend is certainly passionate, and the more she told me about her year in pandemic, the more I thought differently about some of the problems I had been hearing about abstractly on the news.

When most people were making mad dashes for emergency quarantine groceries, toilet paper, and hand sanitizer, Lynn’s experience was vastly different. First of all, she had always kept bottled water and paper goods in supply thanks to a warehouse membership and a business practice of providing for her clients. So she had no need to hoard. Secondly, a fact that weirdly delighted me when she shared it, she had months worth of rubbing alcohol and hand sanitizer already at her dance studio, because that is what they always use to clean the poles and keep them clean and grippy. Amazing! I would never have thought of that, ha! She did say that months later, when her normal stockpile ran out, she had trouble finding more alcohol and hand sanitizer in stores because by then everyone needed it.

The third and most troubling difference in Lynn and Jimmy’s early quarantine living conditions was food supply. The Richardsons keep living quarters inside the dance studio on tenth street and have never had much need for long term food storage; nor do they have much space for cooking and preparing meals. Their careers and lifestyle have always lent more to small bites and late night, post-performance dining around town. When the shut downs happened, of course, and area restaurants closed (in the beginning, restaurants were not even offering takeout), they found themselves with extremely limited choices. Add to that their early and severe health troubles and their sudden loss of income, and they were in a worrisome bind.

Lynn said they subsisted for a while on credit cards and then on gifts of food and medicine from friends and family. She shared with me, “We realized for the first time we couldn’t do it on our own.” Eventually they decided to apply for SNAP benefits from the state. The $350 per month made all the difference. They were able to eat and heal and regather their strength to make some tough decisions.

We have all heard anecdotes about how shut downs affected some industries. Lynn and Jimmy experienced perhaps the worst of it. They normally operate four thriving businesses, all revolving around performance arts, both local and traveling. These are more than passion projects, though that is true too. These are their livelihoods and long term plans made real by hard work. These are complicated housing choices. These are life structures that affect them and their three teen aged children, as well. Overnight, 90% of that hard won business just ended. Virtually all of their income was gone, with no reliable end in sight. Even as Oklahoma’s lockdown restrictions eased over the months, people were either reluctant to be in dance studios, or reluctant to spend money for fun, or, as in the case of the big casinos who did open back up, simply not hiring performers.  The sudden and complete loss of income was a blow to them that cannot be exaggerated. Credit cards and savings only got them so far; eventually Jimmy did sell a treasured guitar to pay bills and stay afloat. “

Another expression of the conundrum they faced this year in their chosen industry was travel. Gradually, other states around the country loosened restrictions, and Lynn and Jimmy were offered work. Having missed all of the spring season and much of summertime at home, it made a certain amount of sense to accept jobs in places like Iowa, Illinois, Wisconsin, and Kentucky. Understandably, it was a huge relief to have not just income but also a sense of value, a relief to have something to do. Although most places were not that different from Oklahoma (better safety protocols in large cities, less so in small towns) Lynn said she “was aware of a sense of criticism and public opinion” just for being out and about. There was a constant tug of war over doing the best right thing. “I can only control myself, and I’ve got to be grateful for this job opportunity,” was her resting point. Also, she reinforced, their travel gigs were in spacious outdoor settings. They always felt safe and responsible. It all made her wonder why we have to be so critical of each other, when we are all in this together. She wondered why we weren’t directing more of the vitriol at the government, instead.

Everything was hard last year. Everything, including impossible medical bills for treatment that didn’t help. There were countless reasons to feel increasingly angry at the world, and the online climate of hate speech and division made much of it much worse. Lynn felt that she lost friendships in the midst of everything and watched with sadness as groups in general caved to mistreating each other both online and in the streets. Lynn’s perspective is that all the fighting and negative leadership was keeping everyone embroiled in their anger, rather than freeing us up to solve our collective problems. She realized at some point that no great entity was coming to save us, that it was up to individual humans to support each other. It was an emotional learning curve, but a needed one. It seems to have centered her in self empowerment as well as reminders about who will love you always, who will be there for you no matter what. During those months of isolation, she lovingly reinvested in family ties and lifelong friendships.

Did the heated political climate have an influence on the mood of pandemic, I asked her? “Oh yeah.” From her perspective, she was largely at odds with friends and family in both arenas. People’s feelings about the virus were intertwined with their political belief systems, and many people could not discuss one without discussing the other. It all seemed to heighten the underlying conflicts we have felt since 2017, and also we seemed to have latched onto an ugliness in our language that just wasn’t there before. Despite her own strong opinions on many important topics, Lynn chose to sidestep conflict in person to preserve relationships. (But she did giggle and admit to some passive aggressive venting online sometimes, ha!)

I loved hearing her talk about the teenaged kids in their family, about what good listeners and sharp conversationalists they are, how they care about the environment and seem to possess that spark for change and progress. “They are not so close minded. They are more socially aware, and it gives me hope that things can get way better with this next generation.” What a balm, in the face of concern for the progress we have made since the 1960s, she said.

Since the Presidential election last November, Lynn acknowledges a sense of cautious relief. She said that while things are still not perfect, what we feel now is humane. “I am no longer watching politics all day, no longer terrified of what’s coming next. That alone is a weight off my shoulders.”

Lynn also has clear ideas about how the government could have done more to help small businesses like hers, citing the huge windfalls that benefitted large corporations and the lack of trickle down for smaller entities. She explained to me the complexities of the EIDL and paycheck protection system, things for which I had no scope of understanding, bemoaning the contradictions inherent in grant and loan qualifications for unique businesses like hers. It was more of that conundrum, the constant choice between survival in your chosen life and shifting gears entirely. “We had lots of pressure and distress over seeking temporary work, and month by month we made it, we were so grateful.”

She suggested, reasonably, that there was a lack of monitoring of people who had truly lost their income, yet stimulus checks were going out to so many, without any proof of need. For a while, Lynn appreciated the efforts of former Congresswoman Kendra Horn, who conducted town hall meetings and advocated for businesses when she could. But Horn was not reelected, and after that no one stepped in to help.

Lynn bravely intimated that she had many days when she felt extra dark, like she was “going crazy.” The circumstances grew so bleak, and the difficulty just never let up. Incredibly, even these moments spurred her compassion. She told me it gave her pause to think about people who deal with anxiety and depression even in good times. “I can’t even imagine how people are coping.” Her voice dripped with love like honey.

If all we did was gaze at her intense and ongoing hardships of this past year, we might feel broken and defeated on Lynn’s behalf. But don’t bother with that. Because she doesn’t feel that way! As we talked, Lynn said that it was often “tempting to look at what was going wrong,” but she tried to “focus on what was going right, and there has been a lot.”

She sees how extra down time afforded her the chance to de-stress, de-clutter, and get organized in a big way, finally completing a huge paperless project in her office and working on backlogged paperwork.

She sees that songwriting seeds planted decades ago are now coming to fruition, with her husband scoring a huge new recording deal and touring gig with a beloved musical comrade: “How miraculous to see it blossom now, at such a bizarre time in history.”

She sees fresh energy in Oklahoma City, with more and more parties booking at her studio every week. She sees the beginning of a 21st century Golden Age, a boom for the performing arts, a ribbon of entrepreneurial creativity and determination that wasn’t as necessary last year. She got me excited, reflecting on the 1920s and talking about the possibility of a New Golden Age: “Why not another one now?”

As this new year builds momentum, the Richardsons are healthy and happy and working hard on their goals. They look forward to going on tour, scheduling shows every weekend, and keeping the studio open for classes and parties. Happily, several big festivals that were cancelled in 2020 seem likely to happen later this year. They are excited to regain their financial strength so they can give back to the community, too. Again, this reveals Lynn’s depth of compassion. For all their challenges during pandemic, she is mindful that others have had it even worse, and she sees where people can step in to help each other.

I am excited for their momentum, too, and not just because they are our friends and we love them. Their artistic contributions provide a particular flavor to our local culture that we have been sorely missing. One lesson pandemic has taught many of us is the true value of what we take for granted.

Thank goodness for the people who make art their life, so that we all can live with more beauty and more variety. Thank goodness for the entertainers, the creatives, the musicians and dancers, who teach and perform and share their passions so generously, yet are considered almost disposable. May we not take them for granted in our New Golden Age.

If last March felt like the scary tension that precedes a big tornado, then maybe this March feels like the peace that follows. Lynn described to me, “that beautiful blue, cloud free sky.” and I could feel the depth of hope she must have for this new season of life. All this regeneration. Infections rates are falling. Vaccinations are taking hold. Their business is growing steadily again. And, most important of all, she and her husband made it through what was arguably one of the worst years of their lives. She said they have felt beaten and battle weary, but also excited because, “If we can do this, we can do anything!’

I asked Lynn for her final perspective on everything, for lessons learned and mantras going forward. She took a deep breath and said, “Just be gentle with yourself.  Stop worrying about what others are doing.” She talked about times when she had to remind herself, “This is who we are. This is what we’re doing.” And that focus, with a deep sense of compassion and gratitude, is what kept her going.

Dig deep, friends.
xoxoxoxo

kicking off anniversary staycation

It’s anniversary week! Tradition bears that we spend at least part of it at alone the farm, soaking up summertime romance. Late yesterday afternoon, Handsome signed off from his Commish duties until one week from Monday. Ten days off, very hard earned, wahoo!!

Ten days at the farm after 118, ha! Despite the obvious jokes about quarantine sameness and farm work being constant and a general inability to halt certain routines, we are pretty excited. This time together has historically been a special time to reconnect and recharge. I love it. I love him. I love us.

Day One:

Johnny Ringo the nursing cat makes cuddling an extreme sport.
LLM is baaing and approaching more bravely.

We slept until 5 a.m., drank coffee with Little Lady Marigold, and went to Walmart for pool chemicals and a few groceries. We also sketched out a list of random lists we want to share with you guys, to document our 19 years of marriage. We promise it will be just as boring as it sounds.

Midday, Handsome got the mowing done while I grabbed an hour of exercise (a mix of treadmill and gym today, while watching gardening videos). We swam at high noon, exchanged a couple of fun gifts, then retreated to the air conditioning when our skin hurt.

Handsome surprised me with this colorful area rug he knew I was loving.
Klaus immediately claimed it.

I got to enjoy an afternoon Zoom with my family to discuss Where the Crawdads Sing. So fun! And I appreciate our baby sister Gen for gifting copies of the book to everyone. Really generous! That’s the book review I recently promised, by the way, so if that interests you please stay tuned.

How fortunate are my siblings and I that we are all friends, and that our parents will join us in reading and discussing books, even during quarantine?! I just love it. They are both voracious readers. They always read aloud to us, our entire lives, and they read their own books and papers in front of us, too. It was just a very normal and constant part of life. I am super thankful that we can share it now, still, in new ways.

This evening we watched the new Netflix movie with Charlize Theron, The Old Guard. So good! Imaginative action movie with a surprisingly inspirational message toward the end. We both loved it, and I hope it is becoming a series.

How about one quick piece of salad advice before closing up for today? Instead of adding toppings to the top of your bowl of leafy greens, start with them. That makes them bottomings, I suppose. It makes all the difference!

Just get a much bigger bowl than you think you need, ok? Tonight I assembled a pile of chopped sweet peppers, cucumbers, and gorgeous garden tomatoes, also some cooked chicken breast, and let it all sit in the fridge with balsamic vinegar. While I cooked Handsome’s dinner, it all became extra cold and flavorful. Then I just piled it high with greens and mixed it up. So much better this way! The tomato juice and balsamic provided more than enough slickness and moisture to skip dressing, and all the chunky bits were findable with my fork. Like treasure.

One more story: Just before the golden hour while I was folding laundry from the clothesline into a big basket, my industrious and forward thinking husband tried to remove some very full fly traps (the water bag kind) into sealed trash bags, but one of them fell and burst. It was, even from a good distance, easily the most startling and psychologically unsettling odor I have ever smelled. EVER.

To his credit, my man stayed calm and cleaned it up quickly. But much more than a whisper of the offense remains. The llamas are sad now. The tomato vines wilted. The cats are in a frenzy over the smell, but they are too young to know why. I fear the Little Lady Marigold will take this personally, because it happened so near where we have been making such progress with intimacy.

Back inside, we almost got into an argument over who was yelling too much or stifling their yells or what, because in the midst of it all a worried, newly homeless fly tried to burrow in my ear while I was delivering leftovers to the chickens. I did not handle it well.

Staycation is going great! See you tomorrow!

“The man who does not read good books
has no advantage over the man
who can’t read them.
~Mark Twain
XOXOXO

i love you etcetera

July 2, 2020. Quarantine Day 110

Brain food! Alex and Jess recently recommended a podcast called The Anthropocene Reviewed. The episode about our temporal range was fascinating. Author John Greene explores mankind’s obsession with predicting the end of the world and does a good job of reframing it a little. Great timing, by the way, with current events. And the short podcast was a nice compliment to the research book I have been reading called Fear Itself, which delves into all kinds of societal fears and conspiracy theories. What I found refreshing was that Greene neither fully demonized nor glorified our species, as so many voices tend to do. He didn’t pass too much judgement; he just raised interesting questions and made great observations. To return the excellent recommendation favor, I told Alex about the Netflix special Thirteen, about the 13th amendment. Have you seen it yet?

Yesterday Halee and the nephews visited! They will soon be joining my brother in Spain for a three year stint, so these silly and free farm days with them are a treasure to us. Even if the heat and humidity are bone melting, ha! We swam, retreated to the cool house, baked chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, reapplied sunblock, swam again, went on a nature walk and took tractor rides, harvested berries and squash, swam one more time, and had pizza. (Big thanks to Handsome for picking it up!)

Connor picked a green tomato and did not believe it was real. He carefully put it back next to the vine.
I call this “happy chaos!”
Greg, my little cookie making machine!

During our very casual paper plate dinner, we all chatted about how much we love each other, specifically our moms. Greg (age 9.87 years old) remarked that he has to love Halee because she created him, etcetera. Wrist flip, eye roll, pass the pizza please. Oh man. We seized the opportunity to shame him for not loving his Mom for all of her wonderful qualities (fun, smart, kind, generous, patient, loving, awesome!!) and for all the things she has done for him his entire life (cleaning up vomit, taking him to fun places, providing him his favorite foods and toys and books, you name it). His self defense was quick and surgical: “You guys didn’t HEAR me. I said ETCETERA!!” Then an even more dramatic wrist flip-eye roll combination, flourished with some chin wagging. I mean he really stuck the landing this time. The room erupted in laughter. I doubt whether any lessons were learned, but a new family catchphrase was born.

Handsome is making such progress with the Batmobile project! All the farm improvements from March to June were important and satisfying, but this might be the one physical accomplishment for which we all remember quarantine the most. His aspirations, among other uses, are to use this vehicle for hospital outreach and charity parades. I am so proud and excited! He has really been pouring his heart into this.

After a couple of wonky months, I am enjoying a nice reset with fitness. Yesterday’s workout was 5 steamy miles at the Choctaw park followed by a quick gym session, focused on unilateral moves. I am convinced that muscles imbalances have been the root of my plantar fasciitis and Achilles pain, and all of this gradual strengthening is helping more than rest and time off ever did.

Today I had intended to run at the lake at daybreak but made the mistake of doing chores first (seems like I am physically incapable of leaving the house without certain things finished) then checking the gardens. So, two hours and a sink-ful of produce and eggs later, I decided I should probably do laundry, too, before electricity hit peak price. And maybe sweep floors and water the gardens, ha! Around noon I finally laced up, but we had hit feels-like temps of 110 degrees, so I opted for the treadmill. Eight miles easy effort, no heatstroke. The pleasures of a lake run can wait.

I am giggling here because after a rambunctious day, Greg asked for a cuddle and nearly fell asleep in my lap while I played with his gorgeous red hair. I loved it. Sweet spicy boy.

Thanks for checking in, friends.
I love you, ETCETERA!!
XOXOXOXO