Today is Sunday, a day when church activities play a usual role in our lives. The choir is no longer rehearsing, and services have been suspended until further notice. We were able to watch “Sunday Morning” on CBS in real time. Our day is filled with the things of staying home: reading, writing, exercising, cooking, and later we’ll watch some British television via Acorn TV. Son Todd brought us some eggs from his shopping trip this morning. He left them in the garage – no direct contact.

Minnesota has had 14 fatalities from covid-19 as of a few minutes ago.  Hospitals are not equipped as they need to be; health care workers are weary from too much work with not enough support. This is not going as well as it should in this country.

Yesterday we had some sad news about a long-time friend from our Minnesota Education Association (MEA) days. Bill Haring was active on the Government Relations Council and the PAC Board (Impace MEA) with me for several years. We lobbied in Washington D.C. and at the MN legislature. We attended state and national NEA activities, and he and his wife shared many interests with us. We’ve remained in touch since the 1980s. Now Bill has stage 4 cancer of the pancreas and liver. He’s at home, and his friends are caring from a distance as we are all in Covid-19 Stay at Home mode right now, and for the foreseeable future.

This nightmare experience is having a profound effect on the population. It will be difficult to recover from the death and devastation and the resulting changes in our everyday life. This is an election year, and it is also a Census year. The census is underway, and many of  us have filled out the forms on line. Everything is in limbo right now because the full extent and the outcomes of the scourge are not known. The virus is bringing out the worst in some and the best in others. Hatred and love are at opposite ends of the present life spectrum, and from the sidelines we watch emotions play out. Fear brings uncertainty and it can make people lash out at any target that is “other.” Feelings of helplessness and empathy manifest in neighbor helping neighbor as well as in acts of charity and generosity in other forms. The spirit that has shown itself in other national crises is still part of us if we give it a chance.

Schools and churches are closed until further notice. Teachers have on-line classes prepared, and students are staying home with the adults. Outdoor activities are acceptable, but 6 foot spacing is advised. Bikers, runners, walkers and strollers are keeping a 6-foot space on paths, in the streets, and in parks on nice days. Spring seems to be trying to make its way here earlier this year with temperatures in the 50s during the day, 30s at night. Rain keeps us indoors on days like today. Climate change has caused some interesting weather patterns with temperatures nearing 100 degrees in Oklahoma today, and it’s still March. Storms are more extreme, and flooding is at its usual spring pace. Meanwhile, the people are staying home. Predictions have a baby boom in 9 months, an increase in divorces, and violence in volatile families.

Because of technology, we have a glut of information; some of it is conflicting as the government spokespeople don’t want us to panic, and they are concerned about the economy that has been shut down, so we are being reassured. Some responsible news outlets are telling us things are not improved, but are getting worse. Those of us who have people working in health care are aware of the desperate nature of this pandemic. Honesty could make people more careful about staying home and distancing. Many young people spent spring break on the Florida beaches, exacerbating the spread of the virus. Mardi Gras festivities in New Orleans caused a serious uptick of cases there. All of this is happening while essential equipment isn’t getting to hospitals. This will be a long, deadly summer. In Italy, doctors are being forced because of the situation, to give preferential treatment to those whose chance of survival is deemed more possible.

Another side issue was precipitated by the president’s calling this scourge the “Chinese coronavirus.”  Asian citizens are being harassed, attacked, threatened by some who think this country is only for white people. Blaming immigration for this problem is dangerous and irresponsible. We have become in some quarters a very angry people, acquiring a sense of power and privilege through hatred. I fear for the future.

We are 2 weeks into “social distancing” in Minnesota. Governor Walz has issued an order to stay at home except for urgent activities such as grocery shopping, doctor visits, buying gas. People are behaving as instructed, mostly. Some are irrational: hoarding toilet paper, hand sanitizer and sanitary wipes, eggs and milk. Stores are restocking essential items that are gone within an hour.

Some of the confusion is caused by President Trump who daily tells the public that we are taking care of things, hospital are in good shape, businesses should be opened as normal by Easter. Those in the front lines know we have just begun to see the pandemic come to life in this country where more people are infected than in any other nation. Hospitals do not have necessary “PPE” (personal protection equipment). Doctors and nurses are wearing the scarce masks and gowns all day, going from patient to patient without new protection, sometimes putting garbage bags over their gowns which are porous. Ventilators are in extremely short supply. Testing is so scarce that many places are not able to identify those needing extraordinary medical treatment. People are dying for lack of essential treatment. There is no cure or medicine that relieves symptoms and we are probably 18 months from a vaccine.

We have canceled a trip to California for a Senior Cup Tennis Tournament where George was registered to play. We also will not be going to Broadway for our theater weekend, or to concerts by the MN Orchestra and St Paul Chamber Orchestra. Theaters are closed until further notice, so all our scheduled arts experiences are not being held. Our river cruise to Eastern Europe has been canceled by us. We learned that getting “Cancel for Any Reason” insurance is wise. We were insured for much less than our expenditures for the Gate 1 cruise.

This may be only the beginning of the frightening life we will face as a new normal.

When I was young there were people in our town who were called “pillars of the church.” We lost a significant one from our Bloomington church on Saturday. As a newly hired office manager of a church whose denomination was new to me, I depended on key people to provide guidance and support. Jerry Gilliand was church treasurer and he seemed to be around whenever I needed him. Jerry handled the sound system on Sunday mornings. He also sang and played guitar and fiddle in our “house band,” Zenith Avenue, for special services. Jerry was a handyman when things needed fixing. He knew whom to call to get things done quickly, often asking experts from our church family for assistance. After his retirement from Northwest Airlines where he was a pilot, he became someone for the minister, also new to the church, to consult. He was generous with his time, talents, and financial acumen and was among those who kept our small organization growing and solvent. His good sense and sense of humor defused tense situations over the years. Not many of the successful decisions in the church are without his imprint. He initiated a program of rides to the airport. Members called a driver from their neighborhood who made a contribution to the church in gratitude for the ride. The children sought him out after services as his briefcase held treats.
On a personal note, I am grateful to Jerry and Marv Gish for getting my husband back into tennis after a break of almost 20 years.They put together a foursome after the spring picnic one year. After that time Jerry joined a group playing at Match Point in Lakeville, and later at Lifetime. He and his wife Barb have many friends in the congregation as they became part of the fabric of our church life. A dependable presence in our midst, he has been missed as his illness kept him from us. It is always difficult to reshape ones world when someone is no longer a part of it.

Jack is one of those people who make us smile, sometimes groan, but never despair – except maybe now. As a member of our choir he is a baritone, and he can switch from tenor to bass as needed. His often booming voice during hymns can also be tender when necessary in the choir.

As former English teachers, Jack and I often quoted poetry at each other, sometimes recalling obscure works, but ever comfortable with Shakespeare. He is a story teller who seems to know a little bit about a lot of things.

He and Carmen loved to travel, often as Road Scholars. In our church family they quickly became leaders and friends. In the beginning, Carmen tells me, Jack wasn’t sure he was interested in joining a church. After the first visit, Jack was the one who was eager to attend. Before long he joined the choir, regaling us with stories from his travels, corny jokes, and good humor. For several years he was our Santa Claus for holiday music Sunday, passing out candy canes and smiles.

He is a skilled photographer with a wonderful eye for just the right picture. A gallery of his photographs presently hangs just outside the sanctuary in our church. Each is a sample of that special eye for his subject.

Jack is now in the late stages of cancer. We who care about him despair. It is never easy to watch someone’s positive spark grow dim. He remains in our hearts as our own, inimitable Jack.

“Once upon a midnight dreary…” It was Halloween night, well actually it was 5:30. We had been running errands, and we stopped for dinner at one of my favorite haunts. After we were seated, I noticed a distinguished-looking elderly gentleman in a tuxedo. Was he in costume for the holiday? Possibly. My muse was aroused after a long hibernation. During the next thirty minutes the man was joined by thirteen graying others similar in age and dress. Oh, my imagination was in full gear. The last man to arrive had what appeared to be a laptop in an elegant leather shoulder bag. This group, seated in a private room, probably meet every Halloween in this place. Their business was none of mine, but I conjured up many things. They were benefactors who selected their next project each Halloween at this gathering. Or they were politicos grieving the state of this election, planning their exodus. Maybe they were college classmates who met to eulogize those no longer in their number. They appeared serious and purposeful. It was an interesting moment in time, and best of all, my creative juices are flowing once again.

The explosion in our circle last Thursday has taught me a few things about myself and my relationship to my world. I’m troubled by some things I’ve identified.

My first thought was for our safety. Even before I knew the location of the blast, the jolt frightened me. As I reflect on that feeling, I realize there are people right now in countries with turmoil for whom blasts are ever-present. Can one ever become accustomed to sounds of destruction? To bombs and gunfire and the chaos and terror of not feeling safe. Must that be reality?

As the afternoon wore on, I focused on our granddaughters’ visit which always brings us joy. The girls are sensitive, bright, seem to enjoy our company, and make music for hours with piano, guitar, and harmony. I can add a few low notes to the singing, and I never tire of it. The big bang and its aftermath made it all about me. I didn’t know whether the neighbor was alive or not, but I thought about myself. I’m not proud of that.

The increasing gun culture and the mass shootings reside at the edge of my reality; I tremble when an annoyed motorist honks his horn at me as I follow the speed limit: road rage. I worry about being places with large crowds that could be targeted. My world gets smaller and smaller. I resent that.

I’ve always seen the glass half full in the past. I want to regain that confidence in humanity that made anything possible. I’ll keep working on it.

Mid-afternoon on Thursday, a huge explosion rocked our neighborhood. The house felt it, and we certainly did. My heart was pounding. I was sure a bomb had gone off somewhere, maybe at the Mall of America.

Sirens seemed close, People in our circle were out of their homes, not sure how to react.

In a few minutes the first responders arrived on our street at the north end of our circle. A neighborhood man was in the ambulance headed for HCMC when we joined the curious crowd on our street. Rumors began. We were told the injured man had been handling flash powder when it exploded. The first story we heard was that he’d blown off his hand and injured his legs and his dog.

There were many police cars, firefighters, thrill-seekers – one man had heard the blast from 93rd Street – we are on 111. Soon the bomb squad arrived, the crowds were dispersed, the road was blocked off by police, houses were evacuated in the area nearest the man’s home. No one was allowed to enter or leave the area.

We were expecting two of our granddaughters to spend the night. I texted both families with the problem and the uncertainty of an “all clear” message. We finally postponed their visit as it grew close to 6. We got cleared at about 7, and we have since been told that the man is alive, a quantity of flash powder was removed from the home; the area seems back to normal.

We joined several tennis friends in hairnets for a Feed My Starving Children event this week. In two hours many volunteers, 8 – 10 to a table, filled meal bags to be sent to countries in Central America, South America, Africa, and the Middle East. A major recipient is Haiti where conditions are bleak, especially for the children

The process is well-organized and efficient. Each bag is filled with a scoop of vitamin powder, a scoop of dried vegetables, a cup of soy, and a heaping cup of rice. Bags are weighed, and sometimes rice is added to make the designated weight.

Once filled and weighed, each bag is passed on to two people who seal it and stack it on a table with the numbers 1 to 18 written on it. Two bags are placed on each number, and when 36 bags are ready, they are packed into a box to move to the next location in the process. Someone assigned to the box-moving did that task.

There are six servings to a bag, and different preparation methods are possible. Some villagers make soup, some make a “rice-a-roni”- like dish, and some take out the soy for patties, prepare the vegetables and vitamins, and cook the rice separately. I was partnered with a staff person who answered my questions about destinations and preparation. In the two hours we worked, we packed enough to feed 153 children for one year.

The process became a friendly competition with someone at each table calling out a completed box, “Table six, box 25.” There was camaraderie, laughter, and a feeling of accomplishment. I hadn’t known what to expect of the activity. Assembly lines suggest tedium and seriousness. We’d looked up the non-profit and learned that it was one of the higher-rated charities. It is also a Minnesota organization. We would do it again.

Ray Bradbury’s 1953 vision of a dystopian world speaks of many troubling signs in our present. Conversations are often replaced with text messages that dance across the surface of thought, avoiding substance. In Bradbury’s future world books became condensed and simplified, made into comic books, then finally forbidden. People were discouraged from discourse, front porches which had been gathering places in earlier times were outlawed and removed. Information was disseminated in sound bites on wall-sized screens in homes. Schools no longer existed.

Following a performance of Fahrenheit 451, one of the actors told of wanting to read the book before getting into rehearsals for the play at Theatre in the Round. He got the book at his local library and read what he later learned was an abridged form – the only version that library had.

Today we are faced with history books being altered to eliminate parts of our past that doesn’t speak well of us as a society. School libraries remove from shelves books that someone finds objectionable for personal reasons. Reading is often done on electronic devices, if at all. Society’s pace doesn’t encourage leisure for reading, enjoying nature, having real conversations about ideas.

I am not ready to concede that now is an improvement on earlier times when creative, thought-provoking ideas were considered and encouraged. I miss those days.