This colorful photo bursts with anticipation. It was taken just moments before our first group Thanksgiving dinner in two years. We were having a small gathering of our son and daughter in law, who got married during Covid, and her parents, who we were meeting for the first time. It was pre-Omicron, and — we’d hoped — post major Covid. Everyone was vaxx’d and boosted. We felt comfortable partaking in a careful, small-group setting. We cooked together, and ate, and shared stories, and laughed. It was simple, and seemed like old times. Here we are, one month later, facing the bleak winter months in another potential lockdown. We’re not sharing anymore, and can’t invite anyone in, it seems. Dr. Fauci says to stay away. Plans are falling apart. Though we have learned a few things, we’re back to Covid protocols. No hugging. No gathering. No nothing. Ugly masks. We try to find time every day to walk outdoors in the winter cold. Other than that, we’re inside, on our own, on our devices, conducting lives through phones and mail. Here we go again. How do we attach meaning to sitting indoors? Where do we find beauty? I’ll have to get back to you on that.
January 6, 2022
This is a photo of our local emergency room with empty triage tents outside of it, taken from inside our car. We were passing by on our way home from getting drive-through flu shots which we could get because our insurance is really good and our doctors are very caring. Somehow everything about this picture sums up for me how we have access to ways to take care of our health that other people don't get. Black and brown and poor people are dying at so much higher rates. Even when wealthy white people like the president and his entourage get sick, they don't even think it's a big deal because they are already insulated and pampered, and can get expensive, cutting edge medical treatment with no problem. If all of us tried to keep each other safe, and if essential workers got excellent care and protection, we'd see a very different pattern.
October 7, 2020