Swing In A Tree

Saturday, January 8, 2022

“It Takes a Village"

Texas summers drag long and hot by August, with hurricanes brewing in the Gulf, eyes stayed glued to the coastline. With family living in League City and Bay City, as well as parts of Houston itself, we all pay attention to every tropical depression that tracks into the area. Often, the storms swing towards Louisiana. Sometimes they veer more south. Occasionally, the Houston area gets pounded with winds and rain that results in devastating flooding. My family members switch off on responses to hurricanes. Some years, they evacuate to San Antonio while the next storm they ride out at home.

After the February freeze and its devastation, all eyes followed every weather event that neared the coastline. Frankly, no one could emotionally handle another hit to any family members. My sister weathered surgery to her vocal cords that left her unable to speak for weeks on end. My brother, with his house finally complete, dealt with his ancient washer deciding to die. Being in another city, I feel helpless when troubles knock on my siblings’ doors. It turned out that I could select new appliances for my brother, purchased them at my local Home Depot, and arranged long distance, for them to be delivered.

August’s heat smacked other friends and family members with mental health issues. No easy fix of pulling out a credit card and sending a new item to their homes. I had no repair kit for the friend whose drug use had escalated to her having difficulty differentiating between reality and her hallucinating haze. Although I encouraged her to continue with her therapy, and to be honest with her drug usage to her doctor, I left after visits feeling depleted and defeated. I witnessed another woman’s battle with Borderline Personality Disorder deteriorate with every phone conversation, email and text. My mantra with her also became, “Keep in therapy. Keep in therapy.” I want to help these friends, but their “villages” need to include professionals to help them heal.

Our backyard refuged me through the boiling August days. Each day started with hose in hand to slay the heat. As I watered each plant or bush, I’d run through the troubles of various village members: surgeries, appliances mishaps, anxiety, depression, loss of hope and loneliness. I realized that I cannot fix every problem, but I can be part of the village to offer support and love.

Friday, January 7, 2022

“Super Spreader Shower”

Our incredible caution with avoiding COVID-19 meant limiting activities even after vaccination. If a restaurant’s tables appeared too crowded, we either did take-out, or we found a less crowded place to eat. With a year of reduced spending behind us, I vowed to keep within our new tight budget by designating each month a merchandise category. April turned into auto repair month, May meant painting two rooms, June was Paul’s birthday month, and July’s focus zeroed in on finding a new phone for me, getting our vision checked, and getting our dog to the vet.

Each of these goals occurred safely. The store where we went to replace my ancient iPhone 4 limited the number of people in the area. We signed in, waited minimally, and transacted the entire process with only a few other people around us. Our optometrist’s office had us stay in our car and text them upon arrival. Other than his personnel, no other patients sat in the waiting room. Koi’s vet followed a similar protocol. I called when I pulled into the parking lot and their technician came out to lead an extremely reluctant Koi into the building. The vet called me as he ran through Koi’s physical. Koi’s nagging cough turned out to be the beginnings of tracheal collapse. He explained the treatment, sent out all of the instruction (along with the bill). The contact between me and his aide proved so minimal that I always felt safe.

On July 8^th, we received an email invitation to one of our nephew’s baby shower. To accommodate some of us who approached COVID-19 with caution, the party would occur outside by the pool. I need to explain that most of the people in attendance had ignored every warning about COVID-19 with many of them falling ill to the virus within the first few months. These separate house-holds still vacationed together, and they celebrated holidays in a large group. They politicized mask wearing and vaccinations, believing in many of the conspiracy theories that fester uncontrolled throughout our country.

For us, the threat of infection from this gathering made us reluctant to attend. We knew that at least fifty people would attend. My doctor, who happened to call a few days before the baby shower, advised us to keep our masks on at all times, even if we stayed outside. She warned, “Delta’s a devil!”

July 24^th found us ostracized by the family members who didn’t believe in masks and vaccinations, which turned out to be a lucky for us. Those guests who were vaccinated didn’t wear masks. I told them about my doctor’s warning, but some responded like it was exaggerated. They falsely believed that vaccination provided a shield, not understanding that you still need masks and distancing! By July 28^th we received notification that our nephew’s stepfather, unable to breathe, had landed in the ER and ICU. He died in December after an extremely long, brutal battle. A few days later, word came out of the eight other people also infected. Fortunately, because they were vaccinated, their cases were mild.

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.

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.