The New Word in Our Lives

Photo Credit: Miranda Johnson

... a close up of the downed boathouse ...
- too much snow on the roof; not enough strength in the frame -

Pandemic.

I didn’t ever think I would hear the word pandemic and have the sound be pointed at an actual situation.

Nor did I think I would be at home waiting for the corona virus to move through the territory where I live.

I can'thelp but watch it move closer as it circles the globe.

In the past, when the question has been asked, what have you seen that you never thought you might see, the answer my dad gave was “a man walking on the moon”.

My answer was “the Berlin wall coming down”.

Now I have to rethink my answer.

Only in a science fiction movie was I ever taken to an imaginary space of a pandemic which now is out of the realm of science fiction and into the real world.

Photo Credit: Miranda Johnson

... the downed boathouse framed by birch trees ...

In Alberta we have been a bit late to heed the warning. Our provincial government was not quite as quick as Quebec.

They were two weeks ahead of us at alerting its population.

But now Alberta has caught up, with most people voluntarily doing physical distancing from one another.

Here at my place – no visitors. Just those who deliver food.

And truly I have enough to take provisions to care for myself and some to share.

I have plenty to do at home.

In the past, I have been known to wish for the world to stop so that I could catch up to them. I feel as though I am in that time now, but it is not as I would have wished that time to be, with health and economic stresses everywhere.

For myself, I have been watching the metopera.org series every night, one opera after another – stunning performances.

They could only be better if I knew how to cast them up onto my TV.

Still, I am thrilled, seeing them on my computer.

When I am watching the opera, I wonder to myself, am I like Nero, fiddling while Rome burns. Then I throw that metaphor away.

I am doing what I can: leaning on the information from the best health authorities of my nation; social (physical) distancing; washing hands often with a good lather and for 20 seconds; wiping down areas that get touched; and helping others if the situation presents itself. In short, I am helping to flatten the curve.

Photo Credit: Miranda Johnson

... Betty and Alice walk around the downed boathouse ...

After all of that, with no guilt, I can watch this wonderful art medium that comes to my screen.

Long before the pandemic became evident, I had figured out that I wanted to write 80 memories that would take me to my eightieth birthday.

In the face of the pandemic, the exercise seems trivial. I am going to continue anyway, since it was just a way to help me celebrate the joy of getting older, which joy I shall continue to celebrate, even in hard times.

I think I have passed the hardest part of the curve of writing. For some reason, saying something about falling in love and then saying a few lines about my children was hard work. Frozen finger for a while.

Photo Credit: Miranda Johnson

... mystery spot at the Shuswap ...

I think we are west on Lot 4, looking at the Bastian Mt across the lake.

There may be a pear tree just behind us.

I don't think what we see now is the pear tree trunk, but look behind you.

But I am chattier now, and I still have 50 days to my birthday.

I do see the irony in me calling out ahead to everyone that I wanted my 80th birthday to be a big ice-cream party.

Social distancing is going to put a stop to that.

I can eat the ice cream by myself.

No worries for others.

I will do a carry over of my extravaganza ice-cream birthday wishes to my 81st birthday.

Arta