2020 A Year for the Books

 Literally, 2020 was a year for the books.  The last time I read so many books was when I bought my house and I was too poor to go anywhere or do anything else. I love to read, but not necessarily when it's forced upon me as it was this year.

2020 was rough on this country and rough on the world. The Covid-19 virus crippled us in ways we'd never seen before.  Businesses died. People lost jobs and homes. Hospitals were overwhelmed, their staffs exhausted beyond anything previously experienced. Schools closed and opened, then closed and opened again with teachers doing the best they could with little in the way of helpful direction. Zoom communications replaced physical contact, for those who could figure out the technology. Tempers flared. Fights over mask wearing put shoppers and store staff in danger. Riots broke out, each "side" blaming the other "side." People died. Alone. People survived. Alone. Our government did little, if anything, to alleviate our fears, our struggles, our loneliness.

As bad as it was, 2020 was NOT the worst year of my life. That honor goes to the year I broke my leg and my mother died. The second worse year of my life? That was the year my brother died. The third worse year of my life was the year I bought my house, experienced a vicious group of parents determined to get me fired, determined (and successful) at making my life miserable, and the terrible depression I waded through. So, in perspective, 2020 runs as the fourth worst year of my life. Heck, fourth place barely gets an honorable mention in the contest of the worst possible year.

I hope this year is much better for all of us.  I have hope in a new administration and some humanitarianism returning to our government.  I have hope that vaccines become available to all and put an end to the deadly hold Covid has on the world. I have hope that I'll play trivia again, hug my friends again, return to art classes again, act in a play again, and travel again. 

I need to get back to Key West and have another reading with the gentleman who read my cards. He predicted this year's setback. He wasn't quite sure what he was seeing, but he told me I'd survive it. I have hope that he'll read my cards again with much more optimism. 

2020 ends tonight. I have hopes that its bad karma goes with it. Happy New Year everybody. May you live to enjoy it.

For Delilah's Daddies

Recently, two of my friends had to put down their dog when it became painfully obvious that she could no longer enjoy life on this Earth.  Though the kind and loving action had to be taken, my friends were suffering as they did it.  They are missing her terribly. The void is a physical pain. Yet, Larry confessed to me, he had peeked at Petfinders.com. Was he a terrible person?

Hell to the no!

I lost my first dog, Lucy the Wonderdog, this month some fifteen or so years ago.  I didn't think I could ever recover, yet alone love another dog. Then, I saw Trixie at F.A.R.M. (Fallston Animal Rescue) Her picture called to me, so I went to get her. She was mine. And I didn't know what to do with her. I felt disloyal to Lucy.  Could Lucy see that I "easily" replaced her? How dare I love this new dog when I hadn't finished mourning my last dog. Why had I done this?  Trixie used to look at the picture of Lucy that I framed and placed on top of a cabinet in my living room.  It gave me the creeps. Why that picture? Did she know something I didn't know?  One day I was in the back room, and I heard something crash.  It was Lucy's picture. It had fallen off the shelf. By itself. For no obvious reason. The other pictures beside it were still on the shelf where they'd always been. Trixie sat beside me, looking at it and then at me. I am convinced that Lucy wanted me to know she was still with me. And, I believe, she wanted me to know it was ok that Trixie came to live with me. I mean, the picture didn't fall and smash my new dog on the head, did it?  So, there you go.

I had fifteen wonderful years with Trixie before I had to let her go. That was it. I knew I was done with dogs as I didn't think I could survive that pain again. But, like Larry, I couldn't resist peeking at Petfinder. It was a month before I saw her picture, but I felt Winnie calling to me to come get her.  I adopted her and wondered, again, what the heck had gotten into me. To say this dog was quirky was an understatement. And, she wasn't housebroken. What had I done? Why? One night as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard her in the kitchen. I figured she was getting a drink (and then going to pee on the kitchen floor once again). Sighing, I tiredly decided to just clean it up in the morning.  She padded down the hallway, got to the bottom of my bed, and then just stopped. I patted the bed, and when she still didn't jump up, I sat up to see what was going on. Nobody was at the bottom of the bed. Winnie was where she'd been the whole time, sleeping soundly at my side. I got chills. I knew that I'd had a visit from Trixie. She'd investigated and decided all was ok with the new dog. So, there you go.

My message to Larry and Mark, and all people who lose their beloved pets: Don't hesitate to rescue again. Our animals don't want us to be alone. Our animals know the pain of abandonment and the joy of adoption.  They want us to share this love again.  

So, there you go.

 

I'm Not Anne Frank

I'm not Anne Frank.  Anne Frank hid in an attic with seven other people for two years. Two years of never leaving the house, of never inhaling fresh air and turning her face up to the sun, of never enjoying the freedom of a walk in the park with friends.  No, I'm not Anne Frank. I have sheltered at home for almost three months, and my spirits have been so low that I have to compare my experience to hers to feel a little better. Pretty pathetic, huh?

I am the poster child for social distancing.  I can just take so much peopling and then I have to retreat to my home for however long it takes me to rejuvenate.  Sometimes, it can take a while.  But three months of isolation has taken its toll on me. Everything hurts on me because I don't exercise. Walking my dog makes my back ache. Deep cleaning the bathroom requires a nap.  My eating habits are atrocious.  I began this experience with the intention of cooking lean, healthy meals. Somehow I got hooked on cheezies and peppermint patties; the hell with veggies and protein.  The eleven pounds I recently lost were back when I last checked. Yard work? Every time I gathered the energy, it poured. So, no trimmed evergreens for me.  My play was canceled before the first rehearsal. The trip to NYC was canceled when  Broadway went dark. And so on. And so on. And so on.

Depressed? Yes, safe to say I am.  I'm not alone.  The seniors of the Class of 2020 lost out on the "senior year experience." My dog groomer's business folded during the pandemically forced closure. The people coming to my church's food pantry are really suffering.  Many new clients join us every Friday lamenting the loss of jobs, the inability to pay bills, and facing the embarrassment of needing help. Some of our clients have suffered drastically because their AA and NA meetings aren't happening.  Many of our regulars are MIA and we worry about them.  Some of our clients are taking out their anger and frustration on us. They fight us about wearing masks. They complain about waiting in line six feet away from the nearest neighbor. One even called me a motherf--, well, you get the idea. It's been tough. People have lost loved ones and were unable to hold or attend funerals.   I have a friend whose sister is hospitalized for dementia, and J. believes she may never see her sister again.  Teachers and students were thrust into a world of on-line schooling that no one planned or trained for. In many situations, the stress of schooling exacerbated tensions already existing between parents, teachers, and students. The world is a mess. Bodies pile up in refrigerated trucks. ICUs are full to capacity. There aren't enough ventilators or even protective gloves and masks to properly equip our tireless medical personnel. Our president jokes about injecting bleach to curtail the virus. He advocates taking a drug that has not been proven to help, but in which he has a financial interest.  He threatens to cut supplies to governors who don't kiss his ass. Leadership? What leadership have we had during this pandemic?  Listening to the president's "news briefs" has been unnerving for most of the world.

Optimists like to say that this emergency has brought out the best in us. I guess I'm not an optimist.

The news is full of violence.  Angry groups of people scream and threaten (with weapons brought into government buildings ) the lives of governors failing to reopen America quickly enough for them.  A black man is murdered by a policeman kneeling on his neck, and that action leads to rioting.  Farmers dump milk they can't sell, putting their futures in jeopardy. People spit on fruits and vegetables causing grocery stores to destroy produce. Citizens show their distain for those of us wearing masks by spitting and coughing on the mask wearers. They claim the government has no "right" to require its citizens to wear masks. Really? Any society, even an American society, has rules and regulations established supposedly for the good of the citizens. Your rights are being denied? Maybe you need to take another look at the rights you're so sure you're entitled to have. Even the things that started out well have soured.  A Facebook group of wine fairies secretly gifted each other with bottles of wine mysteriously left on porches. That went south fast with bottles being stolen from porches and people whining (pun intended) that nobody fairied them. Or posted pictures to thank them for the good deed. The automobile parades past birthday peoples' houses have dwindled and folks are even complaining they can't get enough interest in their parade, or why won't someone do a parade for them???  The happy, optimistic this-is-what-we-did-today Facebook posts have stopped as people seem to have run out of happy optimism.  I am weary. I'm told I don't pray enough; I don't trust God. Well, God gave mankind the "gift" of free will. He probably weeps as He watches how we use it.

No, I am not in hiding because I fear the Nazis taking my life. However, while I am self-isolating, I do fear for my life.  The obvious fear? I am the exact target of this nasty virus that has killed over 100,000 Americans. And too many Americans have said that the extinction of the elderly, aka the weak, is an acceptable consequence for reopening the bars, the restaurants, the beaches, the parks. I constantly mourn the America we've become, and wonder if things will ever go back to the way they were. And then I'm stopped dead in my tracks.  Will we ever go back to the way we were, or is this who we have been all along?  Or, and this is a chilling thought, will things get worse?

Can Covid-19 bring out the best in us?  Will it teach us lessons about what is really important? Will it leave us permanently changed, selfish, and/or vulnerable in a not-so-good way?  Will it reveal who we are deep down when we think no one can see us?  Will our world become "A Clockwork Orange?"  Will we continue to hoard toilet paper?

I have run out of words. So, let me leave you with words from the expert in social isolation, Anne Frank.

“In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can’t build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery, and death. I see the world gradually being turned into a wilderness, I hear the ever approaching thunder, which will destroy us too, I can feel the sufferings of millions and yet, if I look up into the heavens, I think that it will all come right, that this cruelty too will end, and that peace and tranquility will return again.”

2019

I was talking life/politics with one of my like-minded friends.  I told her that it bothers me that I feel such pain due to the horribleness in the world: trump, floods, school shootings, trump, children caged and separated from their parents, racism,  trump, trump, trump.  Why can others just ignore the injustices of the world and pretend they don't exist?  What is wrong with them? Or should the question be, what is wrong with me?  So with this blog,  I decided to force myself to focus on things that made me smile this year, to realize that not all is trump-trash. Life can be good. So here goes.  In no particular order, a recap of the Happy of 2019.

1.  The Full Monty. This was the most exciting theatrical experience I've ever had. I actually sang a solo, on stage, in front of a big audience.  I was funny. I got lots of laughs and rounds of applause.  I held my own with theatre professionals, and hopefully earned their respect. I met new and wonderful people. At sixty-six years old, I accomplished a milestone when I thought all of my milestones were over.

2. Flowers.  I am still thrilled that my former student, Martice Huff, sent flowers to me on opening night.  I taught seventh grade; do you realize how long ago it was that he was in my classroom?  To have a former student remember me so fondly warms my heart which too often feels cold. And who can forget flowers on my birthday? Thank you always Ronnie and Lou. You're the best!

3. Hamilton.  How lucky am I that the Cohens had an extra ticket to this Broadway show and they chose me to go see it with them?

4.  Surgery. I had my thyroid removed this summer.  Surgery went well, recovery was swift, my sister took care of me, and I did not have cancer!!

5. Visitors.  My dear, dear high school friend and her husband came to visit. It has been at least ten years since I last saw Cathy Beaver, and yet, we were as close as if no time had passed.  It's FUN to show off Havre de Grace. They got a Barbara S. Special Maryland Tour, and it was wonderful. I realized as I showed off my hometown (well, technically I reside in Ceciltucky; but my heart resides in Havre de Grace) how proud I am of where I live. And, how lucky I am that this part of the world is where I landed.

6. St. John's Food Cupboard.  I work this Cupboard every Friday.  Sometimes I dread getting up and going over, wondering what problems are going to give me a headache that day.  I leave every Friday feeling so full for having provided real help for people in need. Thank God this project has given me an insight and a personalization of a problem that plagues our country. I have a genuine compassion for those in need, and a chance to help in a meaningful way.  Our clients depend on us, and know we will help. We treat them respectfully and offer them dignity that they rarely get anywhere else. They worry about me - my aching knees, my cold hands and ears, my surgery - and they pray for me. They make me aware of blessings that I take for granted.

7. Winnie Poo Poo. My new dog has helped to heal my broken heart. She's got me walking because she won't do her business without a walk.  She has allowed me to become reacquainted with my old neighbors and she's helped me meet new ones. They may not always remember my name, but they always have a big hello for Winnie.

8. Gambling.  Once a week I join two friends, Sheila and Edith, for an evening at the casino. We have dinner and beer...cold, cold yummy beer.  I do ok. Sometimes I break even, lots of times I lose, once I won $500.  I like the slots. I like the lights, the bells, the whistles, and the absolute positive escape from the real world.  It's numbing, which is sometimes just what I need. I enjoy talking to people who are there for the fun. Sometimes I am entertained just watching and rooting for the big spenders. Whatever. I am Barbara. I like to gamble.

9. Key West. My family (and our extended family friends) took its second Thanksgiving trip to Key West this year.  We are so lucky to visit this paradise of sun, water, friendly people, glorious sunsets, entertainment, and margaritas. No matter what else happens or happened this year, what a joyous way to begin closing it up.

Blessings of the new year to you. Look for the good. And celebrate it.