Month: July 2020

These are historic times. We all know it. Previously unseen events unfold . Many we hope to never see  again.  Postings of rock concert crowds and soccer fans in the stadium are replaced by those of our prettiest petunias and our most impressive pizza.  For some, perhaps the lonely face of a white haired loved one through a window.  So awake are we to the significance of this season of our lives that institutions across the country are keeping a close record.  I am one of many who chronicle my COVID-19 experience as a part of a project to contribute to our local university’s archives.   What gives such significance that it is worth preserving? Expert preservationists say that it is important enough to keep if it

“There are good days and bad days.” The words come out of my mouth. I sense an odd discomfort. The phrase once belonged to my brother Tim and later my late husband John. Each lived with pain awaiting their death.  It was a way of saying “Some days it hurts a little less than others.” I live in a pain-free body in apparently perfect health. I hope to become a centenarian. Yet these words were now a part of my pandemic vocabulary.  What was I calling a “bad” day? A “good” day? I hit the gene lottery good days.  I

I instantly recognized the evidence.  They were back.  My heartrate sped up. “This time will be different,” I told myself. This time I know what I’m dealing with. Three years ago I noticed a few. I was curious. I admired their beauty.  The next day there were more, and along with them large swaths of once lush green leaves turned to delicate skeletons of crumbling brown. A week later, the geraniums, petunias, and hibiscus were gone. It was the worst infestation in years.  Iridescent emerald green with bronze wings, Japanese beetles are pretty and little. They practically glow when they