Snow

This week I decided that I am not going to stress myself out by feeling obliged to post something in this special journal every single day.

So I am just going to make journal entries when I have something to say.

In my mind I have slowly sorted out why all people are not just happy go lucky at home, enjoying the abundance of free time.  On Tuesday I wrote this:

I think a few very abnormal factors work together to cause havoc in people’s existence:

• The insecurity about the future, short and long term, is in every thought and every conversation.  It is an inescapable part of EVERYBODY’s life.  This is not normal for a human being, especially not experiencing it non-stop.
• We are social animals that need human touch and face to face interaction – even introverts.  We are deprived of most of that and it goes against our very nature.
• Sub-consciously we all know that there is a very real possibility that any one of us can imminently be affected by this pandemic in a few very severe ways:

• We can become sick ourselves or loved ones can become sick (with no hospital visits allowed when we need it most),
• We can lose loved ones or acquaintances to death, or we can die ourselves,
• We can face practical problems like a lack of money or food or a roof over our heads, and
• We have or can lose our jobs.

And all of this is what I see in a “developed” country.  It is much worse in places like southern Africa, where huge parts of the population belong to the informal sector.

 

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75 years since the end of World War II.  

I did my army stint halfway between then and now – 1976 and 1977.  I happen to come across my army ID photo:

And a bit of leatherworking got done:

I still have a problem with sleep.  No matter what I do, I sometimes just cannot fall asleep.  And then I roll around almost feeling as though I am just half asleep dreaming crap and hearing every small little noise.

Not sleeping well last night, left me in somewhat of a zombie state today:  not much creativity and my brain in a slow funk – there are things I want to do, must do, can do ……  and the uhmpphhh is just not there to do it.

And POEFFFF….!    Just like that Tuesday and Wednesday goes by and I cannot tell you what I did those two days.

Except Tuesday I spoke to my Mom in South Africa via Google Hangouts.

And I must have sorted old photos, scanned some, and ……  I forget………

After coffee with Judy, I spent most of the day sorting and scanning old photos – very time consuming.

But I am very proud of this montage I made with 4 photos I took very long ago – probably early 80’s:

Did not have a good night’s sleep.  Started a new Facebook group a few days ago for ex-students of the private college where I taught computer programming.   This sparked memories and I started looking through an old tote full of old pre-digital photos.

Before I knew it, it was after 12 and I had not had breakfast yet (Gine was at her offic the whole day ending off a four day Zoom course).

These are two of those photos, just to show I did once sport a beard (circa 1979…?).

My grandmother is seen here making bobbin lace – she taught herself from books and with the help of a correspondent in England.

I finished my coffee mug holder.

Wilhelm planted most of the seedlings in the vegetable garden.

 

This amazing poem was read to us this morning during our Coffee with Judy session:

BEFORE THE PANDEMIC

By Deborah Twigg

Before the pandemic,

I did not know the flowering tree outside my window is a star magnolia

Or take walks around the grounds of our apartment complex

Or notice, in the symphony of bird songs filling that air, the hoo hoo’s of an owl

Before the pandemic,

I never Zoomed with my elderly parents

Turned a windowsill into a container garden,

Or made my own bread

Before the pandemic,

I mistook a busy calendar for a full life

Broke eye contact with my children too early and often

Never called friends just to talk

Before the pandemic,

I played CNN instead of Bach or Springsteen in our living room

Took for granted singing with other people in church

Let dust accumulate on the closeted case storing my guitar

Before the pandemic,

I never wore a mask

Or imagined the double danger, so attired,

If my skin was darker or my eyes another shape

Before the pandemic,

I never thanked a grocery store employee for stocking shelves

Or contemplated who I owe, perhaps, an apology,

Or forgiveness, should I die in a few days

After the pandemic, if—God willing—I survive it,

I hope I will remember, inwardly and outwardly

What quarantine has taught me:

All that matters

I worked on my coffee mug holder  and in the late afternoon we went for a nice brisk walk again.