This morning our memoir writing class eagerly connected into our new Zoom classroom. We surprised ourselves with efficient advanced mailing of assignments over the weekend and getting our sound and video sorted out before the official class start time. [If you’re following this blog, you may recall my homework posted here a couple of days ago under “Coronavirus Haikus“.]
Our hesitant attempts at this verse form ended up being a refreshing source of joy and wonder. These verses became an outlet for a landscape of emotions and experiences, we are struggling to figure out.
Our self-appointed class comedienne, who never fails to make us laugh, did a ‘one-eighty’ on us this morning. There was none of the usual light and breezy stories we so look forward to. As a medical professional, who thrives on being in the middle of all the action, she has been unexpectedly forced to sit on the sidelines this time – due to personal risks. The media has been so focused on the dire situations our doctors and nurses have been thrust into, that we hadn’t considered others who might be excluded.
Setting aside her default style today, our fellow writer reminds us that there may also be those among our first responders who are struggling, because they cannot be there.
She gave me permission to share her piece. Thank you dear friend.
Haiku Doc’s Dilemma Yesterday calmness Slow deep breaths and long dog walks What a difference Home on furlough A perk of the elderly This is new for me Harvey struck last time Brief paralysis then go Doctors are like that We’re Team NRG Twenty-four and seven Twenty-three days without stop That is what we do We assess, we act, we help We like the front lines This time so different Molasses, not torrent We wait and we wait I am home on leave I feel very conflicted It’s a balance act I miss my clinic I miss my nurses and staff I miss my patients Pulling me one way Pulling me another way What is the right thing to do? Protect yourself, Doc Protect your dear family We care about you I called my dear friend She always gives good advice She said, “This is real Please do not go in I cannot get out of bed This is not pretty I am sick with chills Short of breath when I get up We are quarantined” Do I take a risk? To me or my family? Risk their health and lives? Feel anxious today Worried about my dear friend Who knows what’s ahead?
Growing up in Grimsby on the northeast coast of England in the late 60s / early 70s, the sound of Radio 4 programming was the constant background to our family life. The little wireless radio in the windowsill was turned on in our kitchen when the sun came up and didn’t go off again until the family sat down for supper in the evening. It was our mother’s primary source of all knowledge, rather like me and NPR today. Family life clattered around it with the radio fading into the background when we came through for breakfast, after school hellos, just hanging around or hunting for snacks.
Our writing class assignment this week is to write haikus (three-line poem with seventeen syllables, written in a 5/7/5 syllable count).
That’s how my brain is working these days. I’m ping-ponging all over the place, dragging my mood and emotions behind it through all manner of terrain. From serenity to heart-stopping panic, I’ve covered lots of ground.
This is the tag line of the blog by Thelma Z, a new acquaintance from a memoir writing class I’m taking. It reads like something that might arise out of our current calamity. It speaks to me as a message for right here and right now. However, this is not a new blog or a new tagline, she’s been writing here for over 10 years. This arose from an earlier tragedy in her life.
I’m plopping down at my writing desk completely exhausted from a spurt of housework. I had this idea that I could give the downstairs a quick once-over in an hour or so after lunch. I’ve never been wowed by the speed or thoroughness of my housekeeper, so I knew I could knock this out in no time flat. You know where this is going … it’s not even that big of a space, but it took almost 3 hrs. and has left me pooped. So much for me thinking I’m pretty fit and snappy. What a baby. Clearly I have been under-appreciating my housekeeper. All future oversights on her part — if she can ever return — are already forgiven. I could write a whole long, drawn-out epistle on what else I learned about how hard her job is, but the bottom line is a newfound respect for Maria.
It’s Monday morning. Another week is up and running. Time to check in with plans and to-do’s for the week and beyond.
Waking up long before the rooster crows – yet again – with doom and gloom churned into my sheets, I realize something’s gotta give. 
The social director at our house (yes, that would be ‘yours truly’) has lost her old job. The routine Thursday scouring of local papers and websites for “what’s going on this weekend” doesn’t produce much in the way of safe social-distancing. And, of course hanging out with friends is out of the question, even outside, since the rain arrived and the temps have dropped. I will give the media credit for filling up their pages with clever in-home distractions or links to events converted to online streaming. But, honestly, it’s just not the same.
The Coronaviary 