Pandemic Scar

Featured

I don’t believe there is anyone whose life hadn’t been touched by the pandemic in some way. There could have been subtle changes and inconveniences or a major upheavals, like severe illness or death. Without much warning or choice, we were collectively thrown into that reality. Although steps were enacted to prevent infection and lessons were learned, I feel the general public has been ready to sweep all of that under the rug and get on with life. I have moved on as well but there has been a loss left in the wake. It appears that when the tide went out it took my previous views with it.

I consider myself fortunate to exist within several social circles. I can claim friends that are former classmates, some that I have acquired through the work force and others have been met through mutual friends and other organizations. When out and about I appear to be quite the extrovert but what is equally true is that I can enjoy solitude along with the best of introverts. When the decision had to be made about how to handle exposure to COVID, I had to use my best judgement with the input of my doctors. It was strongly suggested that if I was to contract the illness the odds of survival were stacked against me. That was all I needed to hear in order to tip the scales. For the following year I worked remotely.

There was a trade-off, working from home didn’t tempt illness, but social interaction was no longer a part of my daily life. There didn’t seem to be much preparation taken on my part. I remember years ago, while with Red Cross Emergency Services, we would meet and plan for such an event. We discussed how to safely provide food delivery and how to handle a surplus of those who had succumbed to the illness by utilizing ice rinks for morgues. All those discussions came back to me in swift succession. Faced with it in reality found me poorly prepared emotionally, yet moving toward isolation at lightning speed. I would soon live my life with my view to the outside world through the glass of my storm door.

Those who know me are aware of my health challenges. I’ve not known anyone to be critical but rather understanding and compassionate. During that year my friends were extremely helpful and respectful of my choice of isolation. I was not milking the situation but rather holding myself to a rigid environment to keep any infection at bay. In hindsight, it is hard to comprehend the apprehension I felt about opening myself up to any potential exposure. I was adjusting to my self-imposed quarantine when a friend came to visit and I didn’t invite her inside. She told me that I was making too big a deal of the situation. At no point during this time could I be called a hypocrite. If I was not going to work or allowing any other social exposure, I was not going to invite anyone inside my home. She left and with her went a long time friendship.

I have thought about how this loss came to be and why it still exists. There had been overtures from this individual to talk and I didn’t find it difficult to be gracious and engaging but I have never made a point to initiate contact myself. I’m not one to usually hold a grudge and normally take the stance of live and let live. Yet on the heels of the pandemic, I find I view life differently. I have come to identify certain aspects that I might not have paid much heed to originally. I now realize that I do take my illness seriously. For years I have had a somewhat cavalier attitude toward health but now I no longer approach it so casually. I also recognize what a precious commodity time is and that it shouldn’t be squandered. I clearly can see the importance of who I choose to spend my time with and how I choose to spend it. Possibly the rest of my thought would be I don’t care to have others sit in judgement of me, nor I of them. In sharing what I have come to believe, I acknowledge that every day is a gift. I have no desire to address the Almighty and advise him that I would like to return it. There have been times that I felt that the gift I was presented didn’t fit perfectly but I have since grown into it. Now that if fits well, this is what I will continue to model.

Sorry

I have been told that I am a complex individual. I am certain this opinion is the result of my eclectic interests. I am a self-professed political news junkie who is equally comfortable watching the old Walton reruns. Another contradiction might be the fact that I make a concerted effort to save money by my weekly dump runs rather than pay for trash pick-up at the house. It’s ironic that this habit allows me to enjoy purchasing a donut with coffee on a Saturday morning and suddenly not be overly troubled by the expenditure. Surprisingly, a trip through the drive thru recently provided me with an interesting lesson at no additional cost.

Although I get no financial kickback from Dunkin Donuts I will share that this is the location that I frequent when in the mood for caffeine and carbs. One such morning found me ready to announce my desire into the speaker. I was the only one in line, which was very unusual. I placed my order and drove around to the window. Again, with no one ahead of me, I didn’t feel like I had sufficient time to retrieve the payment from my wallet. I quickly pulled the funds out and handed them to the clerk at the window. He accepted it and offered my change directly. I took the money, prepared to return it to my wallet, which had me momentarily turn my back on the clerk. When I turned around again, he had my order at the window. Automatically, thinking I kept him waiting, I told him I was sorry and without missing a beat he said I had no reason to be sorry as I had done nothing wrong.

I looked at this clerk, who appeared to be barely out of high school, and wondered how someone so young had such a capacity for wisdom. I was still the only one in line and my purchase wasn’t holding up any other customer. The clerk would be paid, whether or not I took up any additional time at the window. There was no pressing business beyond my transaction, yet I professed that I was sorry. I realized that this was an all too common knee-jerk response. Although Elton John will sing how sorry seems to be the hardest word, it’s my experience that it rolls off the tongue much too often.

As a female, raised Catholic, I am an expert on guilt. When did it become the norm to be responsible and sorry for everything? It is uttered in personal conversations, professional settings and everywhere in between. It is professed regularly, without much thought or sincerity. Don’t misconstrue my missive as promoting a lack of civility. As I become cognizant of the countless times I utter “sorry” I find I’m trying to better express myself. I now apologize or ask for forgiveness when it is necessary and appropriate. I currently try not to jump to the all-encompassing contrition and chalk it up to additional self-awareness.

Before you accuse me of being extreme, by mentioning this habit many of us have, let me explain further. I will admit that offering the automatic remark of sorry is not going to upset the balance of the universe. Upon reflection though, in general, I sense that conversations could be more meaningful if engaged with active listening and spoken with additional thought, compassion, empathy and truth. Not every statement must be profound and there will always be room for teasing, silliness and humor. A cliché comes to mind: Say what you mean and mean what you say. The reality is that once words are spoken or shared through a chat or text mode, they can’t be retrieved. As I age I have had the sad experience of recounting what would be my last conversation with loved ones. I will make a conscious effort to never leave a conversation that takes on a tone of harshness, disagreement or anger. Bottom line, I will continue to express myself but in the end I remain hopeful that I won’t have any reason to be sorry.

Red Winged Blackbirds

When I was young I enjoyed living with a bounty of beautiful winged creatures who generously shared their habitat. It was not unusual to catch a ring necked pheasant in flight or to hear a quail with its call of bob white. How fortunate I was to have this backdrop to my childhood. Even now I enjoy seeing the flaming red feathers of a cardinal, catching the glint of color provided by a gold finch or appreciating the presence of a boisterous and bossy blue jay. With this variety of feathered species available, it had been the red winged blackbird that I always found captivating.

There are so many items that seem to be left behind once childhood becomes a distant memory. So it was with my enjoyment of red winged black birds. I never realized that it happened until I was caught by a train on my way home from work one afternoon. The road I traveled dissected two fields. As I patiently waited for the train to pass I noticed a large flock of birds in the field to my right. They could have easily have fallen into the category of black bird, although I believe they were starlings. I watched them swirl above the ground and then alight in the field among the crops. It was mesmerizing to watch them repeat the process several times, always in unison. I felt a sense of longing and thought how wonderful it would have been to have this flock be one of red winged black birds. The train passed and I moved on but my mind didn’t.

When was the last time I saw a red winged black bird? Surely they were still present although I couldn’t remember seeing any for such a long time. As I continued to be lost in my thoughts, I decided to take an alternate route home. Living in a rural area, it isn’t unusual to travel through scenic farmland.  I was nearing a pond and the slight bend in the road that its location had created. Negotiating that curve caused me to reduce my speed. As I slowly made my way I noticed a bird sitting on a lone fence post, miraculously it was a red winged black bird. It was exhilarating to see the flash of color on its wings, like a beacon among the vegetation. I don’t believe in coincidences and gave thanks for the perfect timing that allowed this sighting.

Now I frequently have the good fortune to see these birds. They must have been there all this time but I was blind to their presence. What other benevolence am I overlooking in life? The realization that the mere wishful desire of seeing a bird was granted so swiftly, how much more is possible? I do believe that my thoughts are a form of prayer. My gratitude, concerns and needs are lifted well beyond my human capabilities.

Life is full of messages and guidance if you allow your heart to be open. Often, when I now see red winged blackbirds, they are perched high on a reed, allowing them to be noticed. At first glance it might appear that they are a regular black bird but it’s their red and yellow stripes that set them apart. We all possess figurative red and yellow stripes and it is this individuality that sets us apart from others. Just like the benevolence that I recently mentioned, it can often go unnoticed. I don’t think that was ever intended to be the norm. In hindsight, I realize that the reemergence of this ordinary bird in my life has brought me extraordinary messages.

Circle of Life

There are times in life we witness something so magnificent that it blindsides us. It could be a matter of timing or possibly sheer luck. It feels miraculous to be at the right time and place to become a spectator to something that has the potential to take your breath away. That is how I felt when I recently witnessed a bald eagle in flight.

Driving through a suburban neighborhood usually doesn’t offer the most scenic backdrop. Something might catch your eye on the order of landscaping or a real estate sign but usually those trips are uneventful. When I witnessed a bald eagle cross my path I was astonished. I instantly found myself reaching for my phone but stopped when I realized that I needed to leave it in my purse and focus on the spectacle before me. The eagle had recently taken flight as it came from the left and was just above the height of my car. It was high enough to clear my path but low enough that I could see the bird in all its stunning glory. When its flight brought it directly above me, it took a ninety degree turn and momentarily I was following its path. Then as quickly as it made its first turn, it did it once again and flew off to the right. It was overwhelming and I found my heart was beating wildly in my chest and then I realized that the eagle held a rabbit in its talons. I winced and tears came to my eyes.

I watched the eagle continue to fly with the rabbit silhouetted against a beautiful blue sky. There didn’t seem to be a struggle coming from the rabbit and it appeared to hang there, so still. I am not so naïve that I don’t have command of the laws of nature and the reality of the food chain. An eagle with its commanding presence needs nutrition and it was merely doing what was needed to survive. I am not a vegetarian and it might appear hypocritical that it tugged at my heart strings to see the rabbit carried off to become a meal. Truthfully, I did wonder if the rabbit was a mother whose rabbit kits would be left behind, defenseless. Was the rabbit taken when out playing with its litter mates? Maybe it seems foolish to place human characteristics on the vulnerable rabbit but I can’t be honest about my experience without sharing my thoughts.

Upon reflection I realized I witnessed the Circle of Life. Pardon me, Elton, as I expand on your song’s lyrics. If we are fortunate enough to rack up decades of living, I would hope it would be matched with the realization that everyday our role may change but we are still offered the chance to do more than just survive. I can look back at the times that I felt the strength of the eagle coursing through my veins, a feeling of being invincible. In direct contrast there were times that I felt as victimized as the rabbit. There doesn’t seem to be a way to appreciate the goodness without experiencing the challenges. I would hope that appreciating the positive aspects tip the scale when comparing them to the tests and trials. Mostly my wish is that when we are presented with the role of the rabbit, we can fly with the eagle knowing that we knew our purpose and our life would reflect how we sought to meet it.

Time to Harvest

One of my favorite memories has always been my brothers and I sitting around after a holiday meal, trading barbs. The bad puns would continue followed by laughter that sounded very similar from one sibling to another. It has been coined Blackstock humor. A longtime friend reminded me that I have used laughter as a response to much of life. That might have been a dangerous ploy to use with nuns but I managed to survive. It was upon this foundation that I created my first blog: My Punch Line (mypunchline.wordpress.com). It seemed appropriate to find the humor in life’s challenges. Now, upon retrospect, it doesn’t seem entirely suitable. There are challenges that life sends your way that need more thought and fortitude than laughter.

Life has blessed me with the best it has to offer: my son, my family who remains close, friends, travel and professional settings that have allowed me to leave my mark. Challenges and sorrow are not unknown to me: divorce, unemployment, health issues and those that I love that have made the transition to eternity. Ultimately I would like to think there is balance. The mountains and valleys are juxtaposed and simultaneously visible, no matter what my circumstance may be at the time. Whatever course I travel, it is rich in experience.

Life is certainly a mixed bag. I could offer a multitude of clichés that may or may not be proven. Is it true that you reap what you sow or is it a wives’ tale to keep you in line? We have all witnessed forces that deter the greatest laid plans. That brings me to the concept of this blog: Harvesting Life. Are you gathering what has been created or are you merely gazing upon it and seeing its completion but not collecting it or using it for its intended purpose? I recognize that there are seasons that the crop is substandard or even rotten. Those are the days one has to decide if the crop will be left to fester or cleared and replanted. Harvesting is work. It takes determination and strength. Substitute life for harvest and recognize it too takes determination and strength.

For the longest time I held a cynical view of life, stating we come into this world alone and we leave the same way. I’m now rethinking that and viewing it in a much more positive light. My mother carried me for 9 months before giving me life. A medical team was there to ensure that my journey began in a safe and healthy setting. As a matter of fact my father, who was career Navy, made the 300 mile trip by bus in a blizzard to meet me. No, I didn’t come into this world alone. I have no idea what my last moments on this earth might be but for now I will live and live fully. I’m holding space for you. Will you join me, figuratively standing shoulder to shoulder, and begin the process of harvesting life?