Lazy W Marie

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the golden girls of pandemic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is no End,
There are Only New Beginnings
XOXOXOXO

counterweight of kindness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

XOXOXOXO

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.

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.

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