Category Archives: Uncategorized

White Peonies

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May 25, 2020

The petals pool around the blue vase
Set between the candle sticks that we lit every night
For dinner
All those years

And my fingers brush the softness
Reminded of Swan Lake and the
Light I saw reflected in your eyes
That first night at the ballet

So much a part of my childhood
So much not a part of yours

And reminded too of standing with you
In Sissinghurst Gardens in early spring
its White Room empty and quiet
No white roses climbing, no flowers blooming
And saying, “It is too bad we won’t see this”

And you saying “We will come back”

And we did.

The Great Blue Heron

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May 10, 2020

She walked across my hill 

As stately

As the Queen had done across her Palace gardens—

Pausing among the rising grasses

Her head lit by the western sun

And I wondered if she were a messenger

from my husband or even 

on this Mother’s Day night 

from my mother…

But entirely grateful

For this emissary from 

Our blue-green world 

For this moment of wonder

Mothers’ Day

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May 8, 2020

This morning ShutterFly—the photo site where I have many of my photographs stored—delivered to my computer screen a reminder of photographs taken ten years ago, on Mother’s Day weekend May 2010. It is like stepping back in time, and it brings a smile to my face.

There is a photo of my daughter Melinda and me in this living room, looking into the camera, with slight smiles. I smile back at them. I am wearing a favorite necklace that Bill bought for me on our trip to Peru; it is a blue spiral set into a silver background, the symbol of infinity. I think Bill probably took this photo. He is still alive that May, but frail and pale from the cancer that will take him in July. 

But the next photo I am sure I took. It is of Melinda and her daughter Emma Rose—my granddaughter. They are sitting on the black leather couch, and Emma is draped on her mother’s shoulder. She is smiling at the camera warmly and so is Melinda. Emma is eight years old, untouched by time and not too much by grief, though she already has lost a grandparent, her grandmother Nancy. But the warm comfortable love between the two is evident. 

I am very happy that my daughter has a daughter. I love my son, my first-born, but there is something special about the love between a mother and a daughter. I know that is not true for everyone. I have heard the sad stories. But I am fortunate, and so is my daughter. Even now at 18 Emma has a close relationship with her mother. 

I think of that sunlit Mother’s Day weekend ten years ago, captured forever in these photographs, and I smile again. I will not be with my children and grandchildren this Mother’s Day weekend, sequestered as I am by this pandemic, but I can take comfort in these memories and know that I am loved, as is my daughter. The spiral continues. Happy Mother’s Day, my darling daughter. 

Journal of the Coronavirus Year, Part Four

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April 27, 2020

It has been three weeks since I last wrote. The United States now has over 54,000 deaths from Covid-19; we are leading the world. We are number one. In Virginia there have been 453 deaths. The first death in Virginia was just over six weeks ago. 

The rules for staying at home, the closing of businesses, and social distancing vary by states, but in most cases we are restricted to groups of ten or fewer, must stay six feet apart, and wear face masks when in public. However, resistance to regulations by a small but very vocal minority now has emerged. In Wisconsin, for example, about 1000 people assembled in Madison, shoulder to shoulder without face masks, carrying signs. Some signs said “I Want a Haircut.” 

Governors are working on plans to reopen businesses, with regions collaborating. Georgia, one of the last states to close businesses, now is one of the first to reopen, including nail salons, tattoo parlors, and bowling alleys. 

The economic hardships are very real. 26.5 million new claims have been filed for unemployment benefits. It is predicted that many retailers will never reopen. The states are struggling, too, and are revising budgets. 

At last Thursday’s White House briefing, the President suggested that perhaps injecting Covid-19 patients with disinfectant might help. This suggestion later was withdrawn.

Gradually many of us have begun to realize that this is not going to be over in a few weeks or a few months. Or a year. This virus does terrible things to the human body— blood clots and strokes. It is terrifying. Even once the states reopen their economies, I wonder who will feel safe in going back to shopping malls? to hair salons? to movie theaters? baseball stadiums? church services? to movie theaters?

I have been thinking about how once upon a time, we went to movie theaters to watch scary movies. One of the best of these movies in my opinion was Aliens starring Sigourney Weaver playing the lead role of Ripley combating aliens who looked like our worst nightmares. But Ripley was courageous and she acted out of love to save a little girl—a stranger’s child. She entered that elevator and strapped on her gear as she descended to meet the alien monster.

We can do that, too. And many of us can do that just by staying home. 

And She Stepped Out the Door

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April 18th, 2020

Today is the wedding anniversary of my parents Serena Leveau and Joseph Robert Crocker. They married on this day in 1936 in Wheaton, Illinois, at the home of my mother’s half-sister Edna Lindstrom. They were both 27 years old. 

They were living in Chicago at the time they met. My father was going to the University of Chicago, working on his doctorate degree. My mother was working as a dietician for the Bell Telephone Company employee cafeterias; she had graduated from the University of Minnesota, and what had brought her to Chicago I do not know. 

My mother said they met at a party at a student’s apartment close to the University campus and were married three months later. I doubt they had friends in common for that party. His friend probably said, come on, let’s go to this party, you need a break. And her friend maybe said, hey, I know someone having a party, let’s go. 

And so they met and three months later they married.

They had four children, two sons and two daughters. 

And six grandchildren.

And ten great-grandchildren. 

Think of all the lives and all the histories and all the jumble of wonderful, sad, and amazing things that happened because of that meeting. 

Four.

Six.

Ten. 

It must have been a cold and perhaps snowy February night of that party. Perhaps my mother hesitated at the door of her apartment. Maybe put on her coat and then took it off again. And then slid her coat on one more time.

And she stepped out the door. 

Four.

Six.

Ten. 

April

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April 15, 2020

The sun is dropping lower
And I am here by the barn
About to enter the pasture
To collect the windfall of sticks

But then I see the young red fox
Intent on his hunting
Meadow vole for dinner
Eyes focused on the ground
Paws plucking at the grass

And I step back quietly
Drop my hand from the latch
on the pasture gate

The sticks can wait.

The Journal of the Coronavirus Year, Part Three

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March 30, 2020

Today the governors of Maryland and Virginia and the mayor of Washington DC all declared lock-downs of their jurisdictions. A week ago all three officials had called for citizens to stay at home except for essential business. Today’s declarations are not much different, except they have the weight of reinforcement—imprisonment and/or fines for offenders. The numbers of confirmed cases are rising dramatically here—-over 1,000 confirmed cases in Virginia. 

Basically citizens are restricted to their homes except for required work and essential errands meaning buying food and medicines. 

The man in the White House withdrew his aspirational idea that everything would be back to normal by Easter and the churches packed, and called for social distancing to the end of April. He also said if the fatality rate was not more than 100,000 in the United States then he would have done a good job. 

April 8, 2020

We are approaching Easter. We now have 3,340 known cases of Covid-19 in Virginia with 63 deaths. 

CDC and the White House now recommend that we wear home-made masks when we go out in public, but not the N95 masks because those are in very short supply and are needed by medical personnel. At first we were told that masks would not protect us, they would only protect others, and that we would need training in how to put the masks on, so no one needed to wear masks. Now people are sewing masks and demonstrating how to sew them on YouTube. 

Going to the grocery store has become a fearful expedition for many, and for those who work in the stores it is frightening, too. Many grocery stores have begun limiting the number of customers in the store at one time, have set up one-way aisle systems, marked the floor with tape for six foot distances at the check-out lines, and installed plexiglass shields to protect the cashiers. My last trip to the store was March 11th, but my son brought me food from Costco on April 1. I have a good supply of frozen and pantry foods, it is the fresh items I will run out of. There are food shopping services, but they are swamped with customers. One friend said it took her several days to get an order through—she was successful at 1:35 AM—and it will be delivered in five days. For we Americans accustomed to instant gratification, this is an adjustment. 

A tiger in a zoo was diagnosed with Covid-19, apparently contracted from a keeper. 

Meanwhile, it is spring. On my hilltop the pear tree has finished blooming, and the crabapple and forsythia blossoms are fading, but the red bud trees and Alleghany serviceberry tree are blooming. The serviceberry was so named because it was the one of the first trees to bloom when the ground was soft enough to dig graves after the winter, and hold funeral services. 

Last night through my open window I heard the spring peepers. 

Journal of the Coronavirus Year, Part Two

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March 20, 2020

In two days the number of confirmed cases in the United States of Covid-19 has doubled, to over 13,000…and that is with limited testing.

 In Virginia we now have 94 confirmed cases. Public schools in Maryland are closed through March 27th, the day of my beloved granddaughter Emma Rose’s 18th birthday…and I will not be there to celebrate with her. 

Two of the Metro stops are closed, to discourage people from gathering under the cherry trees now in full bloom along the Tidal Basin and always a spring-time draw to tourists and to locals alike.

I stand under my pear tree, a foam of white against the blue sky.

March 22, 2020

Yesterday a man in his 60s died from Covid-19—the first death from the virus in Fairfax County where I live. 

One expert called the novel coronavirus “the scythe of death” for those over seventy. I am reminded of Foucault’s pendulum that used to hang in the Smithsonian’s Museum of American History; it inexorably swung back and forth, knocking over the pegs on the floor. Sweep, sweep, sweep. But younger people are dying, too.

March 26, 2020

On Tuesday the governor of Virginia closed schools to the end of the school year and closed non-essential businesses. Restaurants and kindred businesses can sell carry-out food, but otherwise are closed. All indoor recreation sites are closed. Gatherings over ten people are banned, and we must keep six feet away from one another when we are out. Not everyone is heeding these rules.

 Across the country many states are taking the same actions. The man in the White House a week ago encouraged us to stay home, but now he says he thinks we should all go back to work and resume our normal lives very soon, that it would be wonderful to see all the churches packed on Easter Sunday.

My own church is taking hold of Zoom technology to hold meetings and on-line worship. Last night over fifty of us used computers, iPads, and smart phones to join together in singing favorite hymns. Because of the time delay all of our mics were muted, only the music director could be heard singing, but at the end she unmuted our mics for a chorus of “good-bye, good-night, I love you.”  Good-bye, good-night, I love you.

It has been eight days since I left my hilltop or seen anyone.

 In Italy my friend Heather has been confined to her small apartment for the past 19 days. Over 7,500 Italians have died of Covid-19, now surpassing the death toll in China where the virus first appeared. In the United States over 1,000 have died, and the U.S. Surgeon General warned this week that it is going to get much worse. 

There now are over 61,000 confirmed cases in the US, with limited testing. 

March 27, 2020

This evening there are over 101,000 confirmed Covid-19 cases in the US. The Army is building field hospitals in convention centers in New York City and Chicago. 

This evening via Zoom I wished my granddaughter Emma Rose a happy 18th birthday.  Good-night, I love you.

Daily Plan, Life in the Pandemic

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March 22, 2020

I began sheltering in place last week, and after a few days of totally unstructured time without the framework of water aerobics classes and other activities to give shape to my days, I decided I needed a daily schedule or I would waste this gift of time. I had seen on Facebook schedules that parents were drawing up for their children, suddenly home with the closing of schools, and used those as my guide.

So here is the Daily Plan I put together for myself:

8 to 9 coffee and news

9 to 10 shower and dress. blow dry hair

10 to 12 morning project

12 to 1 lunch, walk

1 to 3 afternoon project

3 to 4 nap

4 to 4:30 dinner prep

4:30 to 5 glass of wine outside, weather permitting

5 to 7 dinner, swim (when pool opened)

7 to 9 evening project, weekdays

Netflix, etc (Sat-Sun)

9 to 10 Bedtime prep, play dulcimer

10 Bedtime

After about three days, here is the Revised Daily Plan:

7 am wake up, stagger to kitchen, give cats kibble

7:15 to 8 read terrible news on iPhone in bed

8 to 9 or 10  sleep with cat purring ecstatically on tummy

10 am stagger to kitchen, make coffee

10:15 to 11 drink coffee and read more terrible news, try to remember

                  when last showered

Maybe shower

11 to noon  Do something productive

Noon Maybe get dressed…or maybe not

12:30 Eat something

1 to 3 Do something productive and/or read more terrible news

3 to 5 Sit outside, watch birds, drink wine, read terrible news

5 to 6 Eat something not requiring much cooking

6 to whenever Binge watch Netflix

??? brush teeth, wash face, go to bed