Pandemic Journal - Day 101

Wow, I can't believe it's been over 100 days since this Covid virus moved in and kicked the USA's ass. And it's still kicking ass. The numbers locally have increased and continue to increase. We now have 21 active cases. Last week we had 16 active cases.

Nationwide, the cases are climbing to rather scary numbers. We opened up too soon. Even Republicans are saying to wear a mask now. Well, Pence is, anyway. I wonder if he'll get kicked off the election ticket for going against the supreme one?

I have decided to remain solitary and defend my home and person from any and all infections as much as I possibly can.

That sounds better than, "I'm a wimp and afraid of a virus." Maybe.

All in all, things are going ok. I know of some folks with the virus right now. They are not seriously ill. I know a few people who have been asymptomatic but tested positive. (I don't know why they were tested in the first place.)

I had a long, thoughtful chat with a friend on Friday. She gave me lots to think about. So I have been busy thinking.

Today I have my house cleaner here. She is wearing a mask. Unless I am in my office, I too wear a mask. Yes, in my own home. I wear a mask to protect her in case I'm a carrier, and she to protect me in case she is. It's just how we do things now.

I think the last week of June is not a good week for me, all in all. My mother's birthday is June 20 and my grandmother died on June 28. It is hard not to think of them on those anniversary dates. They're almost on top of each other but there's time in there for the angst to settle down deep if you're not paying attention.

And let's face it, with everything that is going on, it is hard to keep on top of little things, much less the big important ones.

This is a picture of my grandmother holding my mother. I'm going to guess this was taken September 1944, since my mother was born in June 1944. There are still leaves on the trees in the photo, so it couldn't have been beyond that.

My grandmother was born June 11, 1923 (June really is a hard month, isn't it?), so she was 21 years old when my mother was born. I don't know much about my grandmother's early life. She worked at the Valley Dale plant in Salem until she had my mother. My great aunt also worked there. Grandma then became a mom to six kids, and she kept almost all of her grandchildren at some time or the other.

My mother was 18 when I was born, and I was the oldest grandchild. When I was sick, I went to stay with Grandma if I had to stay home from school. My mother worked only a block away from my grandmother's house. I was sick a lot, so I spent a good deal of time on Grandma's lap. 

During the summers we stayed with her, too. I remember those best. She's walk us up to downtown Salem occasionally. We'd go to Brooks Byrd for a snow cone and to the Newberry's to buy a little toy. We usually purchased balsa wood airplanes, those paddles with balls on them, or jacks or something. The walk did not seem that long but it was about 1.5 miles one way. My grandmother would have been in her late 40s and early 50s then, I suppose. She had her last child in 1964, on my birthday. Yes, I have an uncle who is a year younger than I.

Grandma was always kind to me, but she and my mother did not get along well. My mother and I also had our problems, and in hindsight I suspect my relationship with her mirrors to some degree her relationship with her mother. I mean, that's what she knew, right? So of course it would. But by the time Grandma became a grandmother, she knew more and maybe was a different person. People change, after all.

I hope I have, and for the better.

Anyway, those are memories and not anything about the pandemic, but I wanted to remember my grandmother. 

We have lovely blue sky at the moment, and it appears the Sahara Dust Storm of 2020 has blown on out of here. The air was very hazy and brown over the weekend but it seems much clearer today. 

What a strange year we are having.