Thursday, January 6, 2022

"June Storms"

Before the storm
 


            Thunderstorms roll into San Antonio rarely during the long, hot summers. Wind thrashes tree branches, clouds darken to silvery gray, and lightning strikes shake the ground. Sometimes descending without warning, these fast-moving storms dump deluges that flashflood our neighborhoods. Other times, they swirl and spin in place providing a spectacular show.

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman











Wednesday, January 5, 2022

“Emergence”

 

Before  new color choice


After new color!

First cabin trip in years!


            Full vaccinations freed us. Wearing our preferred masks, in May we ventured to stores and our favorite restaurants. We invented “Linner”—eating out in that space of time between lunch and dinner (2:30-4:00), which meant fewer people unmasked around us. We lingered in Home Depot on several occasions to select the perfect paints for a couple of rooms. We traveled to League City to purchase a new television set for my brother, who had survived without TV since February. By the end of May, we trekked to our cabin in Leakey with vaccinated family. 

            Our diligence in following the scientific and medical community recommendations translated in our household remaining COVID-19 free after more than a year. Being a household of a writers, musicians, and artists, our “natural” tendency for introversion allowed us to transition into restricting when and where we went (while masked) without qualms. For some people, their positions as essential workers forced them to deal with the situation, and the virus, daily. For many friends and family members, the thought of giving up a vacation or family gathering proved unbearable. We watched COVID-19 strike down young and old, well and unwell. Those who followed guidelines fell ill as well as those who claimed their “rights” meant they could do as they pleased. Some people suffered severely and were hospitalized. Some still struggle with permanent damage to their lungs or hearts. Some walked away with no long term impact on their health. Some died.

            For our household, our shift back into social gatherings never slipped back into pre-pandemic contact. By the end of May, we wearied of criticism because we still “wore Pampers” on our faces. Fatigue over battling anti-vaxxers and anti-maskers made us retreat back into our words, music and art.




Copyright Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 2022

Tuesday, January 4, 2022

“April’s Fool"




I kneel in awe each spring 
 Worshiping nature’s rebirth 
Stomach flattening to Earth’s coolness 
My lens captures the first blush of blossoms 
The constancy of nature 
Makes me an April’s Fool 
Trespassing over field and farm 
 For one perfect shot

Copyright Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 2022


































Monday, January 3, 2022

“March and Anxiety”

February's freeze 


Snow and ice in February



            I wrestled with Sunday Night Anxiety for many years when I taught. I paced the house snarling at anyone who crossed my field of vision. Some evenings I cried because I didn’t want to go to work the next day. Once I retired, this overblown unease retreated into the background, resurfacing for “special” occasions like doing income taxes or handling unexpected car malfunctions. Worry dogged me whenever Perfection’s crown slipped. Making simple mistakes drove me crazy, even when no one else knew about my blunder.

            Waltzing with worry meant I weighed my thought processes constantly whenever stress strode into my day. With COVID-19 looming daily in the background, I meticulously measured my “Danger! Danger, Will Robinson!” warnings. By March of 2021, getting all of us vaccinated motived my days. I strategized an attack that resulted in booking appointments for both my husband and me within the first days of our eligibility. Beginning midnight of the designated date, I rotated through Walgreens, CVS, Walmart, HEB, and the UT Health sites in fifteen minute intervals. This technique worked again the next week when my son’s age group gained eligibility. By the end of March, all three of us had received the first shot of Pfizer.

            Other Life ripples resolved during March, too. Our 2019 income taxes, buried under a pile of unprocessed forms at the IRS, finally got processed. Our rough-running car came out of its repair running like new. Our yard and gardens, frozen into submission in February, reemerged with subtle hope.

March's Hope


Rebirth and Regrowth

 

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Sunday, January 2, 2022

“February Freeze”



            The ice and snow that froze Texas into place in mid-February of 2021 skipped over our house snuggled safely among a police station, fire station, and hospital. Survivor’s guilt blanked my days as I watched family and friends struggle with rolling black-outs, or even losing electricity for several days.

            Before the storm hit, I fretted over the phone with my sister over our brother, Charles, driving to work in his ancient car because he’d never driven on snow or ice before. Finally, I called him and talked him into going into work ahead of the storm. The hospital has given him a room or cot in the past when hurricanes swirl in the Gulf. I begged him to see if they would let him stay one night.


            When he called to let me know he would go in well before the bad weather hit, I reminded him to leave water running in his kitchen and bathroom sinks. He laughed since my sister had just given him the exact same instructions.

            None of us predicted that the freezing temperatures would cascade the entire state into a collapsing grid nightmare that plummeted households and businesses into darkness and cold for many days.

            Charles didn’t return to his house for a couple of days, and when he did, it was to find the pipe in his master bathroom had burst. The water cascaded down from the ceiling, with the deluge flooding almost every room in his home. He ran next door and a neighbor helped him turn off the water. Then he made a frantic call to my sister, as both she and her husband were already fully vaccinated for COVID-19 and live about ninety minutes away. My sister reached me (my phone service was spotty due to the storm) to get the name of the plumber my brother uses. She left urgent messages on his voicemail, texts, and email! Her diligence paid off because the plumber had Charles second on his list. The burst pipe was replaced within days.


            My sister also found a general contractor who ripped out the saturated carpet within a few days. This contractor went through the house with expert care, itemized every repair, and sent a detailed report to the insurance company. Within days, my brother knew how much money he’d receive. He and the contractor spent a couple of days selecting new tile floors, vanities for the bathroom and other odds-n-ends to reassemble my brother’s home.

            The speed in getting Charles’s house repaired ground to a halt since thousands of homes and businesses in Texas overloaded lumber yards and home improvement stores with orders. Something as common as sheetrock became a backordered item that didn’t appear until April. Eventually, and slowly, the contractor healed Charles’s damaged home.



            Last night, Charles called to chat about the freezing temperatures that aim our way again. His joked that his new tile floors can handle any water that may come his way!

 

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman