Imbolc and the Wolf Moon
Wednesday gratefuls: Mountain Waste. Colorado Gas. Intermountain Rural Electrical Association. Our well. Our Solar panels. Century link DSL. Verizon cell and internet. Hwy. 78, Shadow Mountain Drive-Black Mountain Drive-Brookforest Drive. Our home. Driveway. Fence. Garage. Loft.
Mary, Mark, Diane, me, Joe 2011, Andover
Spoke with the clan yesterday. Sister Mary remains in Singapore. The movement control order in Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur in particular, continues. She retired last May and had planned to be in Japan for the fall semester, then move on to K.L. Nope. Makes me wonder about all the COVID stories, displaced persons.
Diane stays inside on Lucky Street in the Mission. She ventures out a bit to run, see doctors, get groceries, but otherwise the single life.
I can see the light at the end of the long Covid tunnel and I’ll believe it’s not an oncoming train after Kate and I get our vaccines. Not yet. And, not anytime soon as near as I can tell.
Kate’s again had a rough evening and morning. Last night after supper, minimal on her part, a wave of nausea swept over her. Very unusual in the evening. Usually a morning thing. As it was this morning. The weariness of it all. For her. For me.
Rigel had her second seizure like activity yesterday as well. It was shorter, less intense but featured right front leg weakness and head bobbing just like the other one. It was not as emotional for me this time. Not as tired, not new.
Did cause me to ponder, again, mortality. Occurred to me that awareness of one’s own death or the death of a loved one can have at least two effects.
The first could be fear. Anxiety. Worry about the impending loss. This effect can sour the relationship, even make it antagonistic if the fear gets projected. Fear does not improve response.
The second effect, and this was a new realization for me, could be a heightened appreciation for the moment. Right now, Rigel is alive. Not dead. I can be with her, love her, enjoy her, celebrate her dogginess and the long time we’ve had with her.
I will not be tormented by sadness or fear about something that has not happened. Instead, I’ll find pleasure in her presence. In feeding her. In petting her. In feeling her body as she sleeps next to me.
Same of course with my own life. With Kate’s. With yours.
Like many of my friends I’ve begun to read Heather Cox Richardson’s Letters from an American. Worth it.
Biden’s surge of executive orders does challenge the notion of tripartite governance, but use of them by incoming presidents has taken on a traditional feel. I know Obama and Trump made liberal (and, conservative, hah) use of them. I’m with Biden on the climate, immigration, public lands orders that I know about.
I’ll be very disappointed, however, if he gives in at all to the Republicans in the Senate. This aid bill, especially the state and local aid, the larger stimulus checks, and its sheer size will knock back a possible dark and long recession. Small businesses, like people of color, have been disproportionately affected by the economic changes since last March.
This must not become known as the ascension for big business. Small businesses are the local. Are the traditional. Are the part-time employers. Are the mainstays of main street. Where they’ve not already been killed by Walmart, CVS, or Kroger. Are the unusual, the spice and herbs of our economy. If we want a tasteless, distant, bureaucratic organization of the profit-sector, not aiding small businesses is the way to get it.
People of color and their communities are the future of our nation. Look at the demographics. White folks have fewer and fewer babies. Besides, who wants to live in White World? It’s boring, bland, and tasteless, too. OK, that’s hyperbole, but a nation that includes Tex-Mex, lobster rolls, fry bread, sushi, pho, and pad thai adds a lot to juicy lucy’s, Big Macs, and pot roast.
People of color need a vaccine roll out that not only honors their irreplaceable value to our country, but to the racist impact of a disease that has struck folks in low paying but essential jobs harder than anyone else. When you have to work to pay the rent, feed the kids, you work sick. You spread illness at work and back home, especially in multi-generational homes in small houses or apartments. Since many of these small homes and apartments are in densely packed communities, that sharing is not a stay-at-home issue only. It leaps the threshold to extended family, friends, small business owners.
Clear day here ahead of a temperature drop and some snow. Looking forward to it.