Lazy W Marie

globe trotting & soul searching

April 14, 2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

XOXOXOXO

“We are a Team!”

March 26, 2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

XOXOXOXO

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

March 24, 2021

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!

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 41^st 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 6^th 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

forty seven years and many more to go

October 25, 2020

On this cold and variable autumn weekend in late October, my beautiful parents are celebrating their 47th wedding anniversary. Rumor has it they stole away to their own backyard for a brief and covid-friendly date night, which is to say that they are finally getting a room. Get a room guys! hehe

My parents married especially young and had me almost immediately, then they had four more kids who were also, well, pretty good, depending on who you ask.

Genevieve, me, Angela, Philip, & Joey (not in birth order or coolness order either)

All my life our parents have been the young parents in every crowd, and I have loved it. I grew up very accustomed to my female friends having crushes on Dad and my male friends having crushes on Mom (a particular devastation, though, when I reached the age to have crushes on those boys). Moreover, I always just felt like part of them. No kids remember life without their parents; but I felt a unique sense of almost kinship or camaraderie because we were relatively close in age. Understandably, they were less advertisory about this fact to the world at large. I suppose, especially in the 1970s, people might be judgmental and have plenty to say about it. But I was always proud of them, and I still am.

Earlier this month I had the opportunity to answer a question about their youth, when I posted about Dad’s 63rd birthday. A new Facebook friend noticed the narrow age difference between Dad and me (I am 46), and I quickly confirmed it. I am never shy about this. I said that yes, they were very young when they married, and the five of us kids have been the luckiest kids ever for their love and devotion, not just to us but to each other.

Growing up with young parents was gobs of fun. They were energetic, playful, driven, attentive, hard working, and always up for every good tradition, big and small. They fed us healthy food every single meal, read aloud to us and in front of us, took us on all kinds of trips, threw countless parties, fixed our cars, made us laugh, connected us to family and friends at every turn, kept us in Catholic school whether we deserved it or not, and endured all of our adolescent weirdness and young-adult griefs. They gave us everything, most of it made from thin air, and I honestly do not know how they did it. What I do know, in my bones, is that our charmed and beautiful family life was a product of sheer will, determination and, yes, passion (get a room).

The older I get, the more I realize how lucky we are to still have our parents alive and healthy, still married, and still celebrating their anniversary in personal, unique ways. They still tease us and feed us. They still laugh hard with us and read books and ask us what we are reading. They still try to get us all together as often a possible, whether it’s a weekend cookout or a special group travel plan or, during pandemic, a family Zoom. It sometimes makes me cry thinking of how much of their human lives have been spent, literally, on us.

We have received the full force of their loving personalities for forty seven years, and now a whole batch of grandchildren are soaking it up, too. Maybe soon, great grandchildren.

Seeing Mom and Dad celebrate privately now, and seeing them enjoy their home in this brand new chapter of middle aged romance, is lusciously sweet.

The photo above is from when Mom and Dad renewed their vows in the Church. (Their first wedding was several years prior, and before Mom took her Catechism and joined.) See Mom’s wedding band on her necklace? My memory is that she and Dad both wore their bands this way for several months leading up to the ceremony. It was a very intentional second engagement, something they didn’t experience the first time around. I think about this all the time.

Mom and Dad, you never pretended like marriage has been easy, but man, you have made it look so completely worth all that was asked of you, and that is inspiring. Wildly encouraging. We might never really understand how hard it has been for you, or what you have sacrificed to be our parents. But we hope to have many decades still to say thank you and to encourage you to live life for yourselves as much as possible. Your efforts have not been in vain. I hope you feel as much joy and satisfaction, as we all feel gratitude. I hope your backyard pandemic-style anniversary celebration was romantic and happy!!

“You come from a long line of effort.”
~Mickey Sperry
XOXOXOXO

the ghosts of birthdays past & a long wish for my guy xoxo

September 1, 2020

Last week my cute husband turned 45!!

We have been celebrating together for so many years, but of course, pandemic presented some challenges to the norm. More than ever, I have hoped that a few private “Birthday Week” traditions would sustain him and make him feel as deeply loved as he surely is. (Wrapped gifts, favorite foods and guiltless couch time, I’m lookin at you.)

A few magical extras, though, need to be mentioned!

Last week, in the midst of a regular work and farm schedule, we spaced out a few tiny gatherings of dear friends to begin painting the exterioir walls of our new yurt. This definitely helped it feel celebratory around here! I’ll share those photos and stories separately, and soon.

Then… Then!! The Thursday afternoon surprise:

Something extra special for this birthday was how Handsome’s office family went above and beyond to surprise him. For weeks, Geoff and his colleagues recruited about 60 people from the Commish and beyond to each record a short video birthday greeting, which were then artfully compiled for the group online monthly meeting. It was all so funny, so appreciative, and really tear jerking. David from PUD played a gorgeous piano recital during their video conference Team Builder. And they also constructed a “Trivial Pursuit” style group activity all centered around their fearless leader and his life. It was all so good and will absolutely go down in birthday history!

That night we welcome one couple to the farm (thanks for coming, Brad and Chelsea!) and ate a tender, flavorful smoked brisket gifted to Handsome by Dennis and the Enforcement team, plus the most decadent chocolate layer cake I have ever eaten, baked by Tessa, an analyst in PUD.

On his own birthday, my husband bought a bicycle, tire pump, and lock for a young man in OKC transitioning from homelessness to his first apartment. It was a collaboration with my sister, who is a breathtaking human. My guy would probably rather me not talk about this, but it was a vivid memory I have no wish to forget. “It was a good day,” Angela later texted. She was right.

Then from Friday evening through Sunday evening, we stayed up late and slept late and did exactly the amount of work we felt like doing (not much, ha). We spent the weekend swimming and watching movies and reality shows and funny YouTube videos. I can think of precious few hours last weekend that were not made sweeter by some thin, secret slice of chocolate cake stuffed criminially into either of our mouths, ha! Add in some romantic hot tub time and maximum pajama lounging, and I hope he felt as unwound as I did. He certainly deserves it, and much more.

We expect two more small group gatherings this weekend, and Jessica will be visiting next week, for an old fashioned slumber party complete with video games, movies, and good food. We love all of it! Hopefully no viruses will be exchanged.

We do miss parties. We definitely miss having our friends’ voices and energies combine en masse into that special something at the farm. We miss scavenger hunts in Bricktown and car shows and talent shows, and restaurant gatherings so large we have to reserve an entire room. I would very much like to give my husband something big and wild and memorable like those birthdays past, because he gives so much to everyone else all the time.

2015 surprise rockabilly car show at the farm for his 40th birthday!

Until those days return, a Birthday Week wish for my guy:

May you always remember that you were born on purpose, and that you life is bursting with purpose.

May you always feel connected to your strong, beautiful roots.

May you never be too far from a good steak or a nice bit of chocolate dessert. And may your internet always be fast and your blankets always fuzzy and clean.

May your beach trips soon become more frequent and your travel appetite soon quenched.

May your dreams for the Batmobile come to fruition, and may some of the generosity you show be returned to
you at moments when you need it most.

May your pool water never grow algea, and may wasps suddenly become extinct, at least on these nine acres. May all the shingles in your life stay in place, and may wire fences suddenly become indestructible.

May you feel that click, that sense of belonging and comfort, as a brother and as a friend, as a father and as a neighbor. You know you are needed, but may you also know deep in your bones how loved and wanted you are, by so many people.

May the funny movies at your disposal far outnumber the amount of political ads and heat-and-air commercials you have to see.

May you feel deeply and permanently loved, for just being you, for every minute of the rest of your life.

I am so happy and forever grateful that you were born on that summer day in 1975.

Cheers to many, many more.
XOXOXOXO

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