In my family, a conspiracy of silence existed when it came to me. A basic “don’t tell Ann anything” policy. I think the motivation came from an urge to protect, but it left gaps in my knowledge until adulthood.
When I came home from school that day at nine and saw my mom and my aunt whispering with solemn looks on their faces, I assumed I wasn’t to know about whatever event had occurred. This time, though, the whole world knew so I couldn’t be kept in the dark.
President Kennedy had been killed.
As a kid, I didn’t understand all the implications for Canada and the world, but I understood the serious, almost frightened looks on the faces of the adults in my life. All these years later, I remember their looks and how it shook me.
Fast forward many years. I’m at work and go into the nurse’s station one morning to grab a chart. The director of care is standing in the middle of the room, staring at a small TV sitting on a filing cabinet. The incredulous look on her face drew my eyes to the screen. Time stopped as I watched a plane fly directly into the World Trade Centre.
This pandemic didn’t start with a catastrophic event. It hit my radar, but only slightly and not as a world event. The day the prime minister extended March Break by two weeks I experienced a “pins and needles” moment. My life began to change. In the next several days, isolation, disinfectant and zoom became significant in new ways. Life changed, and I’m increasingly feeling like it will never be the same again.
Now I see that I have the opportunity to write history. As the days after President Kennedy’s assassination and 9/11, people will look back on this time in history. Those who lived through it will tell those who come behind what it felt like and how it affected them.
I am “those who lived through it.” So are you.
What are you learning? How is it changing you? How are you writing the history of this time?
Here’s my take on it:
My attitude has a huge influence on me and my world.
Many parts of this feel wrenchingly painful. They infuriate me. Scare me. Make me reach for the box of tissues. I can write angry posts on Facebook, or reply to others, all in caps, screaming. I’m a writer. I can use sarcasm, wit and snide comments to get my point across. Or, I can sit and cry because this really sucks. Or, I can allow fear to raise my blood pressure as I worry about those I love. I have choices.
I’ve had my moments of anger and fear and there have certainly been tears. But I choose to write my history in a different way.
Kindness
In a world where you can be anything, be kind. I love this saying. Kindness touches me and inspires me to pass it on. A smile. A phone call. Kind words in a Facebook post. Remembering a birthday or other significant date. A note in the mail. A little gift. Kindness says, “I thought about you. You are important.”
Creativity
Haven’t people been digging deep to find new ways to get together and celebrate? Each time I read about an inventive birthday celebration or a get-together that remained safe, I want to stand up and cheer.
In the game of life, extra points to the family who put together a video for Mom’s birthday, the wife who arranged an amazingly creative retirement for her husband (still secret, sorry!) or the family who came together to honour a grandpa who passed away, but did it safely. Don’t throw up your hands, use them to be creative.
Giving
It’s hard to give when you live on a fixed income or your income has almost disappeared or you don’t know when the next paycheque will arrive. But even a small amount of giving adds up, and more importantly is what it does for me. When I give, I feel amazing. I reached outside of myself and my pain and helped another, even if it was just a jar of peanut butter for the food bank. Giving opens my eyes to the wider world and makes me part of something important.
Seeing
I’m all about the small miracles. My regular readers know that. But our sight can be obliterated by fear and tears and pain. I get so I can only see the dark cloud above my head. It takes discipline to reach beyond that and see the small miracles. But they are there. Everywhere,
Laughter
Are you crazy, woman? What the heck is there to laugh about? Actually, lots, if you are looking.
My sweet, adorable dog has a few nasty habits. He adores toilet paper and also long grass, and will eat it whenever he has a chance. Several hours later, he vomits it up with whatever kibble happens to be in his stomach at the moment. It’s gross! So we have ongoing battles. He tries to eat those two items and I try to prevent it. A few nights ago I was brushing my teeth before bed when I heard an odd noise. I turned around to see the toilet paper unrolled across the bathroom floor and on the bed. Teddy was snacking as quickly as he could. “Teddy!” I yelled in my sternest voice. He sat up and gave me a “What is your problem?” look that had me in stitches. So much for discipline.
Choose to laugh.
In your world, your sphere of influence, you are writing your history of this pandemic and your response to it.
What are you writing?
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Did You Know You Have the Opportunity to Write History?