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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