Open Wide: The Stories

Great Writing

Since I last posted, I was in London for the Great Writing International Creative Writing Conference.

Okay, well, I wasn’t in-in London. I was supposed to be. But, y’know, COVID. . .

What’s great about attending a conference of like-mindeds is that you get to hear what your colleagues are thinking about when they present their papers. But you also get to talk to them afterwards in the hallways and pubs and book fairs. I have a friend who believes the real conference actually is in the hallways, and he rarely attends a panel, preferring to loiter the mingling spaces, using the presentation times to get coffee or drinks.

The Zoom conference model takes all of this away, which sucked because I really wanted to talk to some of the writers more about their work and my work and intersections and bifurcations. Still, writers talking about writing may be a highlight of my summer.

And there was one really cool aspect to this Zoom gig that wouldn’t have been at play if we’d all met in London. There was a true synchronous/asynchronous nature to the conference. Truly a global conference, the wonderful organizer, Graeme Harper, was inspired about the scheduling.

We had only two sessions of two hours each, and each presenter had only 15 minutes, considerably less time than one would have at a regular conference. The first session started Sunday, in the early afternoon on the east coast of the U.S., and late morning on the west coast.  For the British and Europeans, it was early evening. And most of the presenters were from Britain and Europe. To my delight, we had a few folks from Asia for the first session, which meant they were in the wee hours of Monday.

As I listened, I sat in my 90-degree Fahrenheit, unair-conditioned office, sweating but enjoying every minute I heard about narrative grammar, psychogeography, historical insights, and the power of micro and nano fiction. After two hours, we broke for two hours.

I was due to present first at the second session.

I figured there wouldn’t be many folks to hear my presentation on subtext as a literary strategy because the Brits and Europeans would probably bow out after the first session, and I wasn’t wrong, many did.

But to my surprise and pleasure, there were an equal number of folks presenting and in attendance, waking up with morning coffee on Monday. Folks from Tokyo, Hong Kong, and Australia jumped in as participants and presenters. They wore scarves that looked awfully hot, but I realized they were in their winter.

I suddenly got nervous. I was glad to present first, and I think folks were interested in my topic. Mostly, I was excited to hear everyone else’s presentations, and they were cool.

One memorable one was from a writer in Hong Kong, who had proposed her topic on the solitude of writers in October, long before COVID hit here or there. Still, she’d been teaching remotely since November, not because of a virus but because of the protests taking place in Hong Kong, and, like me, she did not get to say goodbye to her students before the campus was shut. Like me, she instantly carved out a space for her students to write about their experiences of isolation.

What strikes me is how similar, people’s experiences continue to be not just in this pandemic, but politically, emotionally, psychologically. Hong Kong may have had protests first, then a pandemic, but the political issues didn’t go away, and neither has COVID. Our protests came afterwards. But none of our issues are magically going away either.

Today, I’m posting some pieces that highlight just how similar we are. I’d lay bets, you’ll find at least one point among these writers’s pieces that speak to your experiences, now, then, or later.

People of the world, stay safe. Be kind. Be strong.

–KLB

Hong Kong Protests (NOTE, THIS IS PRE-COVID 19; SEE HOW MANY FOLKS ARE WEARING MASKS ALREADY FOR HEALTH AND TO HIDE THEIR IDENTITIES.)

U.S. Protests in Oregon; Moms link arms to peacefully protect protesters who have been dragged off in violation of their civil rights by unidentified militia, who are later identified as federal border control and homeland security agents. (Extra kudos to all protesters who wore/wear masks.)

People of the World

Sligthly curious,
I sit, I wonder
The glass in front of me
shows a world in colour
The bushes, the trees
All that blossoms
I want to feel
Smell, perceive
Kiss every living soul
Slightly impatient,
I crack another
Bone in my body
In search of hobbies
The days go by
With nothing at all
Is it Wednesday? I guess
So fill it up
and wash the emptiness away
Sligthly insane,
I start to question
Whether the nature of our actions
is truly for the better
I see them, I feel them
Yet still, I miss them
Let me see pop, how is nana?
No filter, no sanitizer,
It drives me banana
Sligthly in sync,
I get the fever
Roll up my sleeve
The obscure routine
It's too much to cope with
Piling a need within me
Convinced it helps, stay safe, stay clean, Cross my heart, never would
I blame the quarantine
 

–Leslie Valle, Denmark

***

299 English & Chinese Words
 
April is the cruellest month, bringing
Recoveries out of a pandemic, flattening
Curves and sheltering in place, social
Distancing, each with six feet between.
Deliverers kept us supplied, ringing
Doorbells in masks, feeding
Many lives with food from restaurants closed.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Spring-
Break, extended, into classes online;
We stopped in the Zoom meeting,
And went on in private chat, into WhatsApp,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
我根本不是 Latina, 我是America来的, 真的是Chinese。
And when we were children, staying at home,
My cousin’s, she took me out on a walk,
And I was frightened. She said, Mark,
Mark, look at the bears. And bears we saw.
In the windows, there you feel solidary.
I read, much of the night, and go strolling on sidewalks.

What are the distances that save lives, what grocery
Store shelves and workers? Child of adult,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A bunch of images, cable news, where the president speaks,
And the ER gives no shelter, the doctors no relief,
And no sound advice. Only
There is breath under this face mask,
(Come in under the breath of this face mask),
And I will show you something different from either
Your selfies on social media posted by you
Or your selfies deleted by you;
I will show you fear in a hand unwashed.
风在吹
回家
我的Korean孩子
你在哪
"I sat there with Sally. We sat there, we two."
And I said, "How I wish we had something to do!"
Outside of 武汉China are some, faulting
Fellow humans for COVID19. For their own
April blues, who can blame Eliot? I
Blame the quarantine.
 
--J.K. Gayle

–J.K. Gayle

***

Rain came down like hail onto the world below, making a ruckus on the roof.  Water droplets ran down the window, the natural phenomenon creating an artwork with the glass at its canvas.

The sound of clopping hooves can be heard as the home’s occupant entered the room, horn lit in a light green aura.  Jade sighed as she levitated her mug of hot chocolate onto her desk before making her way over to the window.  The unicorn stopped right in front of it, her reflection in the glass coming into view.  Her coat was a light brown color, with her curly mane being a darker shade of brown.  Jade maintained eye contact with the light green eyes of her reflection until a furry mass against her leg caught her attention.

“Hey, Eve.” She said as she looked down at the small, fat purring machine in the body of a tabby.  The unicorn sat down on her haunches, one hoof petting the feline as she looked back out the window.

Jade levitated the mug full of hot chocolate over and took a sip, her taste buds relishing the chocolaty goodness of the drink.  Ah, nothing like some hot chocolate on a rainy day.

Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the area with its bright light.  The grass, once neatly raked, was rendered a muddy mess as the rain pelted mercilessly at the surface.

Jade was glad to be inside during the storm.  She never liked the sensation of getting soaked by the rain.  Sure, it sounds ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it.  On the upside, it makes for a nice viewing spectacle for anyone inside their home with nothing to do.

Rain.  A natural occurrence that can annoy a person while bringing life to the world.  Nature is an amazing thing, too bad it can’t get rid of a virus.

After what felt like an hour, Jade used her magic to pick up Eve and went upstairs to bed, leaving the empty mug all alone on her desk.

–Victoria Duvall

***

A Row to Myself

On the plane I cried. I watched Forest Gump so that my tears would not be my own. I cried for my future loneliness. I was flying to a comfortable home and I had a row of economy plus to myself. There were no shades on the windows. The right side of the plane glowed purple, the left a super natural green. We were suspended in time. I watched Star Wars to feel triumph, to remind myself the collective wins in the end–in the movies at least.

I paced the opposite aisle and was frustrated to find a person in every row of the sparsely passengered plane. I wanted to investigate the green. I hadn’t bothered with the purple.

In the bathroom, my pores were huge in the surgical light. I looked at myself with pity, knowing this crisis would hit me softer than others. But also that it would suck for me more than yet others. Namely, those with partners.

I was having feelings about my feelings. One round was insufficient. That those with partners might dread confinement with them, didn’t occur to me.

A month ago I felt the same.

Time didn’t pause on the plane. It flew to San Francisco.  Where is time going now? Somewhere green I hope, but I don’t know.

I have sheltered in this place for thirty years on and off. I run daily, nearly. It is three weeks since I arrived. I write daily, nearly. Twice now I have joined friends from three states  in the quadrants of our screens to drink beer. We discuss where time is going and how long we think it might take to get there and what we’re doing in the meantime and how we feel about it. We could have done this before.  I blame the quarantine.

–Allison Madigan, Santa Rosa, CA

***

“I blame the quarantine.”

A phrase that’s so short yet holds so much power, so much denial, so much fear.

I’ve heard it said in casual conversation as a tired mother laughed about forgetting to feed the dog, in hushed tones between friends as one worried why their partner stopped sending emojis at the end of their messages, in loud outbursts as a man threw his keys at a cashier because his coupon for peppers didn’t go through. 

Blaming the quarantine has become so abundant, it’s almost our default, the first culprit in life’s current murder mystery. But while we’re so hellbent on catching the criminal, we forget about the real victim we’re leaving to bleed out: ourselves.

Whether speaking figuratively, how this pandemic has damaged all of our mental health and stability, or literally, how many of us are fighting for their lives against this deadly virus, one thing is certain.

We’re scared. We’re so scared of this new situation, because we don’t know what to do, that we lash out or break down crying or shut ourselves in our rooms for days on end. 

But just because we’re lost doesn’t mean our actions are excused. We can’t continue to blame the quarantine for how we’ve chosen to react to this crisis. We can’t continue to lose our minds, when they’re one of the only things we have left.

So let’s stop blaming the quarantine. Hell, let’s stop calling it, “The Quarantine”, stop giving it power over us. Let’s start finding our solutions instead of avoiding our problems. 

Start FaceTiming loved ones instead of facing the time alone, start leaving passive aggression in the past, accepting and apologizing for how we act. 

Stop blaming the quarantine, and start challenging it, because we may be separated but we’re certainly not divided. 

–Lillian Margaret Allen

***

I blame the quarantine, for having my dearest mother home with my sister and I. My father working long hours and still coming home to indulge in family game night. The school teachers we are so used to seeing sixty-five minutes a day down to just a “how are you?” through the computer screen. The dog has certainly gotten a great deal of walks since we have been home. The spring cleaning came early this year. It seems so surreal that so many people we may have never met are dying of this airborne virus. Social distancing has taught me to never take for granted the time we have with our friends at school. I will no more complain about the work that comes at the expense of my education. I know I would rather be in my highschool classrooms with some of the greatest teachers standing before me. My windows are open on the bright, sunny and warm spring days. The constant snacking will hopefully come to an end. We are uncertain what each day will bring and how we are supposed to keep all of our loved ones safe. My grandma living less than two miles down the road has not hugged her favorite grand-daughters in over two weeks. Although, my mom, sister and I have more than our fair share of quality mother-daughter time. From here on out, my days of painting, dog walking and quality time will soon be in the past. I blame the quarantine, for it not being able to last. 

–Sarah Barber

OUJTWBLP

A for sale sign went up on my neighbor’s lawn yesterday. Our neighborhood is tight, so much so that Paul and I share a driveway with these folks, or we will for a few more weeks.

            “I hope the new neighbors are nice,” I said to Paul, screwing up a smile of apprehension and hope.

            He shrugged his own hope and anxiousness.

            We decided together that in the spirit of fair play, we would let anyone looking at the place next door see who we were, their potential neighbors. Putting our best faces on, so to speak. So we cleaned up a weed patch along the shared driveway and planted vegetables: two kinds of peppers, dill, lemon cucumber, and rosemary. A sunflower and red hibiscus for the front yard.

            Then we pasted two posters on our glass front door: Black Lives Matter and a Pride rainbow flag.

            Declarations are important. The upcoming holiday, Independence Day, is all about declaration. In the original text, certain words are capitalized: Order, Union, Justice, Tranquility, Welfare, Blessings, Liberty, Posterity.

            As any writer knows, to capitalize a word mid-sentence gives it added emphasis. This is what the founders – free upper-class, educated white men, who preserved slavery and refused non-white men and women the vote – emphasized. Still, with all of their intersectional blindness, they left us with abstractions for which we still strive today, but abstractions, which even they must have known, are not necessarily in concert with each other.

Justice and Tranquility often do not pedal a tandem bike. Order and Liberty can come to blows.

This week, as we head into a new month, a month where summer steams around our ankles and the sun presses hot hands onto our shoulders, a month where we look back from whence our country came, I’m posting some of the first I-Blame-the-Quarantine missives sent to me.

            See how far we’ve come. See how little we’ve traveled.

–KLB

Backward Glances

I blame the quarantine.
Zoom.  Not fast enough.
Google Meet.  Only if everyone shows-up.
Google Classroom. Post. Post. Post.
My life has become one big -
Wait. A positive test result.
The world stops.
My world stops.
 
Let the email build-up.  
Let the questions keep coming.
“Mrs. Pierson, how do I do this assignment?”
Read the directions.
“Mrs. Pierson, how do I log-on to Khan Academy?”
Read the directions.
“Mrs. Pierson, what sections in IXL do I have to do?”
Read the directions.
“Mrs. Pierson, what chapter do I have to read today?”
Read the directions.
 
Let the email build-up.
Let the questions keep coming.
“Will Mom be okay?”
I don’t know.
“Can a Z-Pack help?”
I don’t know.
“Do they have enough food?”
I don’t know.
“What can we do?”
I don’t know.
There are no directions.
 

–Amy Pierson, Cranston, RI, Teacher St. Mary School

I blame the quarantine for suddenly demanding that I become a homeschool teacher, an employee working from home, as well as a single parent. My little boy asks me every day when Daddy is coming home, and I have run out of ways to get him to understand that Daddy is not coming home. I brushed his cowlick down with my hand for what seemed like the 100th time that day, and the memories came flooding back. I realized this is exactly what I used to do to his Daddy 13 years ago when we fell in love. I bent down to my little boy’s level, looked into his Daddy’s eyes and asked him if he would like to look at pictures of his Daddy with me again. He quietly answered yes, and we turned off the computer and together relived the beauty and the magic of the love his Daddy had created for us all. You see, his Daddy reminded us that we need nurses all the time, but never before have they been asked to give their lives for their profession. I was not sure how much he could comprehend at 5 years old, and how much information he should be told of what this pandemic had turned our world into. As we looked at pictures together while lying intertwined on his bed, I answered his question once again, “When is Daddy coming home?” This time, I felt a peace come over me for I had discerned the way to tell him so he could understand, “See this picture of Daddy with that mask on; he was a superhero who helped many people live and feel better and now Jesus needs him.” He nodded, quietly absorbing my words as we turned the page.

–Suzanne Kronsberg

***

I pour through dozens of student emails that flood my inbox only days after our Catholic grade school’s forced hiatus.

“How do I help them?” I mutter as I’m struck by the feeling Gandalf experienced when preparing Frodo for Mordor. 

I enter my family’s kitchen, but I find it hard to not stare at the floor where my family’s eighteen year old Bichon seized only a week prior. 

I force the memory back as I look towards the ceiling praying that God provides answers I fear won’t come. 

But, my friends’ college nickname for me wasn’t “actual Disney Princess” for nothing. 

I don the crown I still hope to wear at my wedding in October to fulfil a show-and-tell promise I wouldn’t be able to otherwise.

I rev up Photo Booth on my ancient MacBook and belt out “When Will My Life Begin.” 

However, I am confronted by my technological ineptitude as it takes hours to figure out how to upload it to YouTube. 

I figure, Italy is communicating hope through song. 

Though, I sing from my parent’s basement, like some weird feminine Phantom of the Opera, not a balcony. 

Yet, my mom recalls that she missed music drifting up from the bowels of the basement at odd hours. For my father, I suppose I drown out the haunting sound of barks that we know no longer exist. 

My siblings view me as the ultimate victor of Guitar Hero and Rock Band. We laugh because I can still 79% Bohemian Rhapsody on Expert. 

However, that B flat is just a bit out of my range, now. 

I have rediscovered that comforting colors of music fail to die even in dank houses on sewer-made lakes and lonely painted towers. Even scourges of the earth can’t kill song. 

So, I keep singing.

–Shannon Fuller

Inexplicable, Not So

In my backyard, there is an onion grown over four foot high. We planted it last year, and it didn’t do much. It made it through our admittedly mild winter though, and in spring I wanted to see how it would fare if I let it go. It’s thriving.

My basil, on the other hand, not good. I tried some old seeds first. Not the tiniest break of soil. So I bit the bullet and bought a flat from a garden center I’d never been to before. The sprigs were happy when I brought them home, but the soil in the garden box doesn’t seem to be to their taste. Or maybe they aren’t getting enough sun. Or too much. Or too much water. Or not enough. Or they’re just stubborn, unwilling to raise themselves to the sun. Whatever the reason, they’re languishing, curling their leaves together like so many tongues.

Turns out, tongue rolling itself is as inexplicable as my basil. Myths and speculation as to why 60-80ish percent of humans can tongue roll and why the others can’t roll have circulated for ages: language acquisition, genes, the excessive brilliance of those of us who can, the discerning tastes or general indifference of those of you who can’t. For a long time, it was thought to be genetics, but now it’s known that genetics is, at best, only part of the answer. After all, plenty of identical twins can/can’t roll. A few determined folks have taught themselves to roll, but not many because, well, why bother?

What’s any of this got to do with COVID-19? Well, at times it seems to me inexplicable and random how this virus spreads, who gets it, how to deal with it, and now that things are opening up, where to go, where to avoid, what’s safe, what’s stupid.

But really, the virus isn’t as random as it seems, just as the reasons why my onion is skyrocketing and my basil is withering aren’t random. With some effort and a little more knowledge and method than I currently have, I could figure out why. And although scientists have been studying tongue rolling for a considerable time now without certainty of the cause, if they continue to study it, they’ll figure it out.

And when they do, the myths will still circulate.

So too with COVID-19. We already know some things about it. Scientists will continue to study it and learn more. Hopefully they’ll find treatments and vaccines in a shorter time than the tongue-rolling research has taken.

But when they do, the myths will still circulate.(STOP drinking bleach cocktails, folks. Try a nice greyhound or gin fizz, very refreshing, and did you hear the one about bat soup?)

Until then, stay safe. And grow.

–KLB

Today’s postings, selections from students in Anthony Comella’s Arts and Culture class at Atlantis Charter High School in Fall River, MA. Congratulations 2020 grads!

*For more info on tongue rolling, check out Claudia Hammond’s “BBC Future” blog post here:

https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20180130-do-you-inherit-the-ability-to-roll-your-tongue

Arts and Culture ACHS Style

 
I blame the Quarantine 
for long days and messed up sleep schedules
I’m blaming the Quarantine for the masks we have to wear
Hot and stuffy, 
It’s just another barrier between human connection
“It’s for our protection”
But still I blame the Quarantine 
For taking away our normal
Face to face has a whole other meaning,
Face screen face is our one way of convening
I blame the Quarantine 
For being trapped inside on sunny days
For separating us from friends
For making us question the little actions we took for granted
Once Upon A Time,
Prom and Graduation were guaranteed 
Pandemics and uncontrolled disease were left in the past
Too far to touch us 
I blame the Quarantine 
For bringing us to a new stage of life
One that is different,
Even good in some ways
I blame the Quarantine 
For showing the positives of social media,
For slowing life’s quick pace,
For giving us the opportunity and time to look deep within ourselves 
For allowing us (for once) to relax 
and to be able to breathe the day in
To spending time with family in ways we never would have before
To making us realize what’s important
And how to appreciate 
For all these things and many more,
I blame the Quarantine 

–Grace Kpor, Atlantis Charter High School Senior Grace Kpor

Twelve years of homework, twelve years of stress, twelve years of working so hard, all for the day I got to walk the stage with my closest friends. These last three months were supposed to be the best moments of my life. These months were the moments leading up to prom, senior week, graduation. And now all of that is gone. In three days, I have to go pick up a prom dress that I worked and saved money for, only to have it never be worn. My cap and gown will never leave my house. Twelve years of hard work and dedication, only to get the seat three months stripped away from us. The class of 2020 never really had it easy. We came into the world right around 9/11 and now we’re graduating in the midst of a global pandemic. The past twelve years have been vital to our lives. In these years we’ve learned, we’ve made friends, we’ve laughed, loved, and cried. We made relationships, some that only last a couple of years, and some that will last a lifetime. Many of the friendships made these past four years will certainly come to an end due to distance and separation. The whole point of senior week is to get in our last goodbyes, if we had known that our last day together was going to be our last day together, we could have made it worthwhile. After a long emotional time in our educational career, all our rights of passage are being taken away from us. All of this is out of our control, we can’t blame ourselves or anyone in particular. I blame the quarantine.

–Maggie D’Costa, Atlantis Charter High School Senior

  “I blame quarantine”. This is the most common sentence used right now, especially by myself. From my plans during the summer, to situations to do with school, or even just plans I made during the day, it’s all ruined and I blame quarantine. But, there is one thing that I have this specific sentence for, and that’s graduation. Graduation was supposed to be the most memorable part of your life but, class of 2020 doesn’t get to experience the real graduation experience and I blame quarantine. This means, no walking the stage, no getting our diploma handed to us, no senior cookout, no walking around the school like every senior class  got to, no senior activities, nothing but a virtual school year and possibly a virtual graduation ceremony. This is the saddest thing I’ve ever had to write about, not just for myself but for all of the class of 2020. Again, I blame quarantine for this and the loss of all the other good things we were going to experience. I’ve said the same sentence 3 times so far, imagine how many times I say it in a day. Quarantine has taken away many things including graduation. Some things I lost during this time that I blame quarantine for were my birthday ideas, my graduation party, a concert I was so excited to go to, family events such as my cousin’s baby shower, family cookouts on nice days, anything fun and memorable was taken from me and from us. This wasn’t our fault though, I blame quarantine.

–Jocelyn Sullivan, Atlantis Charter High School Senior

Melanie thought her sleep schedule was screwed up before, but damn was she in for a wild ride. Spending almost two months straight at home during her senior year of high school has made her think of a lot of things and realize a lot of things. She spends each day just laying on her bed either on her phone on Tik Tok or playing Animal Crossing on her switch lite, and with each day that goes by there is always that small moment before she goes to sleep at four a.m. that she starts overthinking everything and coming to realizations. She realizes that quarantine is basically a free trial into the transition from high school social life to college social life. It has made her realize that the people she isn’t talking to during quarantine are basically the people that she will lose contact in college. She thinks about all of her teachers that she has been ignoring emails from, and all of the friends she would talk to in class and begins to cry. She realizes her senior year is over and that she does not get to have a final good-bye to anyone from her high school that she would share laughs with on the daily. As she gets comfortable underneath her blanket to drift off into sleep as the sun rises, her mind still floods with memories from high school that were cut short. A tear glides down her cheeks as she thinks I blame the quarantine.

–Misha Medeiros, Atlantis Charter High School Senior

As time goes by things have only been becoming direr, at the beginning of the virus’s appearance, life proceeded as normal but within a few months, everything changed so quickly. Week after week the news is consistently filled with information that is worse than the last and cancellations, whether it’s trips, school, workplaces, are only becoming more common. It is implored for people to stay home and practice social distancing and it is evident that it is for the best. In a time like this, it’s important to remember to take time for yourself and to just relax and listen to music or watch a movie with no disruptions. But for many social distancing is now being done from a distance as well. With all of the changes occurring all at once and abruptly, it can be difficult to keep up, managing your time and rearranging schedules is not always something that can be figured out in a day. This is resulting in more stress and work than is manageable, to balance things out time is being taken away from things, from people, who bring a sense of normality to life, who keep you sane when you’re surrounded by insanity. To make things even more confusing, people are being taken out of work only for states to reopen back up within a month to ‘help the economy’; which is not worth jeopardizing safety. Nonetheless, complications are only continuing to rise and seemingly, connections are falling. I blame the Quarantine. As a community we are supposed to be cautiously containing ourselves during this fragile moment in history, but these contradictions are arising and endangering more people, doing more harm than good. I blame the Quarantine.

–Jada Barboza, Atlantis Charter High School Junior

Roar. Dance.

I first heard about Covid-19 on February 4th. I know this precise date because Paul and I were headed to Boston to celebrate our anniversary a few days later, and the news that a new virus originating in China had reached Boston gave us pause.

“Should we go?” Paul and I asked each other at different moments, but neither of us seriously contemplated not going. On February 7th, our wedding anniversary day, there were only 12 confirmed cases of Covid-19 in the U.S. and only the first in Mass., not even in Boston. Of course we went.

Our hotel was only a few blocks from Chinatown, whose restaurants we love, and it was Lunar New Year, the biggest event in Chinatown, complete with a parade, featuring lion dancers. I can’t tell you how much I love a lion dance, the giant faces and colorful sinewy bodies shimmying to crashing music. If you ever get the chance to go to a Lunar New Year celebration, take it.

But this year, with the virus headlining news reports, we decided to be cautious and skip the parade, which went on as usual albeit to a nervous crowd. We felt awful missing out and learned plenty of others were doing the same, skipping the events in Chinatown this year. We worried that the Asian community was losing so much business, but still, we were cautious.

We imagined, and worried, that there would be racist backlash against Asians, especially because we have two nieces of Chinese descent. Of course, our worries weren’t misplaced. The top-down, presidential-driven racism was both shocking and predictable.

What we could not imagine then was just how much would shift in our society in a matter of weeks. Let me say this again:

We could not imagine it.

Not just Paul and I, but even the most dystopic visionaries among us never really thought the world would – could – be shut down as it has been. No way all restaurants are closing. No way they’re going to shut down schools for months. No way companies are going find ways for their employees to work at home. No way everyone’s going to wear face masks to protect the people they encounter. No way there will be food shortages. No way will an entire world (almost, Sweden and Montana) will stay at home. No way . . . no way . . . no way. . .

Way.

Plenty of awful things have come from this shut down, but one thing may actually serve us well at this moment of righteous civil unrest. Before Covid-19, we couldn’t imagine our structures crumbling.

But we can now.

We can imagine it.

And to quote the Bionic Woman, we can rebuild her.

Because of Covid-19, we can imagine the dismantling of key structures in our society. And we can now imagine new normals, new ways to rebuild our structures that may be uncomfortable initially but will ultimately serve us better: structures like our police systems – not just departments, but systems — “correctional” facilities, laws, community involvement, economic allocation, etc.

We can imagine it. We can rebuild it.

I blame the quarantine. Thank you quarantine.

–KLB

https://www.boston-discovery-guide.com/chinese-new-year-parade.html

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2020/jun/08/minneapolis-city-council-police-department-dismantle

Hopeless & Grateful

It’s a surreal time right now—and I blame the quarantine. People all over the world are staying at home, not knowing what tomorrow will bring. The coronavirus has changed the world—and it has changed my perspective on many things. It’s not easy to think straight when the “storm” has just begun. Words like total lockdown, death, pandemic, etc. are suddenly part of our everyday lives—and nobody really knows for how long. One thing I quickly realized is how fortunate we all are to consider “going to school,” “going to work,” or “going to the movies” as the most normal thing in life. 

As of right now, I’m practicing social distancing with one roll of toilet paper left in my bathroom. But instead of panicking, I’m trying to make sense of what’s happening—but to be honest—it’s difficult. It’s difficult to see people hoarding food and essentials, while the elderly are left behind. It’s difficult to see politicians use the global virus to promote hate, racism, and selfishness. It’s difficult to hear people still call it a “hoax”. It’s difficult to watch young adults disobey the rules to STAY AT HOME in order to flatten the curve. 

There are so many things that make me sad right now. I’m sad because I feel helpless. I feel helpless because I don’t know when I’ll be able to work again. I feel helpless because I don’t know when I’ll see my friends and family again. I feel helpless because I don’t know how to pay my bills—just like millions everywhere. 

But at the same time, I feel grateful. Grateful for our planet forcing us to be good. Fewer airplanes, fewer cars, fewer people running around. We’re doing ourselves and future generations a favor by sitting on our couches. Being able to slow down is actually a gift. I’ve never appreciated nature more. Birds chirping, quiet streets—suddenly, I’m looking at everything and everyone differently. But most importantly, I feel grateful for all the scientists, doctors, nurses, delivery drivers, and grocery workers. They are the most selfless and brave, trying to fight against this powerful disease.

–Natascha Wittmann, journalism student at UCLA

Fickle

I blame it on the quarantine
Not to severe
But all of a sudden it is
Standing 
Watching
Open mouthed
Ready to deprive us 
Of school
Work
Businesses 
People
Stay at home orders
Separating us 
Causing worry
Social distancing 
The new life
Governors
Mask the truth
Massive decisions 
Need to be made
School work piling up
A website is all
To fill the void 
47 million is the projected total
Layoffs
Unemployment
Furloughs
Fired 
Stock market crashing 
Ever slowly
From rich to bankrupt
Many people suffer 
Many people die
However fickle Covid-19 is
I blame it on the quarantine
 

–Marita Frietsch, “To Me.”