reggieannhein

[reggieannhein]

Journal during times of Covid

I have, since the early days of Covid19, kept a journal—in Spanish for the purpose of improving my Spanish.  I continue to keep the journal as we are still in times of Covid, and have begun to translate the entries to English in order to share them with friends in the hopes that you, my friends, will comment with your own feelings and stories of your own journeys through these dark times.  I also would like to solicit images if you have any that you would be willing to share.

[reggieannhein]

Cricket

[reggieannhein]

Covid Ground 0 - March 2020

3/14/20  I’m alive, provisionally, it’s not forever but today, in this moment, I am completely, verifiably alive.  The world has stopped for a season, with the exception of my old cat Cricket and I and the rain, this gray world—not completely void of color—there is no way of draining every blush from March—this world that has perpetually whirled us around by the feet, has stopped.  How many times have I said, “If only the planet could quit spinning for a few days,” and here are those days.

3/16/20  Sitting in the waiting room, waiting for my appointment with the tax preparer (yeah, death and taxes), watching Fox News with its non-stop chatter about the Corona Virus, a terrible fear of death seized me as scenes of Italian hospitals overwhelmed with patients, cadavers stacked in the corridors, yielded half the screen to the presenter, a stylish blond woman repeatedly delivering the message that we can do nothing for ourselves but continue to wash our hands.  My hands, which I held folded tightly in my lap to prevent my touching the arms of the chair, were, are, already cracked and bleeding from being soaped and scrubbed time and again.  Death and taxes—taxes and death, and  I began to obsess over my lack of a last will and testament.  After, in my parent’s home, my taxes prepared, my mother has asked me to stay until tomorrow evening to celebrate St. Patrick’s day and my father’s birthday.  I’d planned to drive home and return with Anthony five days from now for the birthday celebration but my mother says that everything is closing down and she fears that we will not be allowed to cross county lines once the lockdown goes into effect tomorrow at 10pm.  “We can celebrate early tomorrow evening so you have plenty of time to get home.”  I wonder when I will see her and my father—if I will see them again.

3/17/20 My mother, channel surfing, stopped for about three minutes on a reality show and I was stricken by the thought that for modern persons appearing self-confident is paramount.  It’s all about presentation and has little to do with true self-esteem.  Perhaps the practice during the past 30 years of exaggerating the importance of each individual child, telling them the untruth that they can do anything they set their minds to, and the manner in which they have been constantly pushed in front of cameras, has caused young people to feel a responsibility to stand out, the simplest way of doing so being to feign moxie—in the sense of simulated narcissism rather than exaggerated self-importance.  They’re not megalomaniacs; they don’t see themselves as heroic or highly successful—how can they in a world where so many are competing for so little?  They imitate actors and television personalities in order to be seen and heard for a few seconds; they don’t ask for much.  And now with this pandemic their world will stop along with ours and they’ll be posting selfies from kitchens and bathrooms and balconies instead of beaches but rest assured that they will do it with true aplomb because this they know they can do and they will pull it off with incredible style.  I’m not saying they are just that—just that this is what they do because this is what has been assigned to them.