Lazy W Marie

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

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“We are a Team!”

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

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

Thanksgiving 2020 xoxo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I cannot make this stuff up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What gifts did pandemic bring my family?

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

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

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

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

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

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

The End.
XOXOXO

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.