Hard to Know What to Say

Over time our conversations have changed.

All those COVID years when those of us in apartments sat on the couch for years, we talked about When It Would Be Over. Zoom became acommon word, and the definition changed to mean something we did online with one another. We zoomed. Some of us zoomed every single day.

All the classes I’d taught in person for years were now online. (And, because COVID never totally went away, and RSV and other things came too, they are online still.)

We had Quaranteenis every week with friends who’d drink together, and reinvent Normal Conversations.

For people who did not have hardships, COVID was an odd and crazy three year break from daily life. We knew we’d get back to Real Life eventually. Life as we once knew it.

Now here we are. The most difficult period that any of us have ever lived through. Dovetailing with Being Older. Not so easy either. So many of us are anxious and nervous now. Even those of us not naturally so. And then there’s sleep.

Many more people besides me who are finding sleep difficult. Sleep protocol is a common subject now: gummies, sprays, pills. (I use TILLMAN’S gummies. Sometimes they work)

We find ourselves arguing about so much that doesn’t matter much. And so much that does.For instance, a few days ago a friend called and went into a diatribe about People Like Me (!) who watch Saturday Night Live not knowing any better, not bringing to bear the necessary Critical Thinking. What’s even crazier is that I argued back, explaining that humor is always subjective, that agreeing doesn’t matter, and that it’s just a TV show.

We fight about more serious subjects too: Israel and Gaza (awful all around), what will happen to this society, what we should do now besides boycott places that support this government, that have canceled DEI. (TARGET says that their revenue is down by a third because of their DEI decision!)

I wish I had a path to take to pass along to you. We need all of us to Do Something. You know that already. How and what to do to fight back is up to you: calling elected officials, working locally, giving money to groups you believe in.

Trying hard to live your life.

Reading good stories and books and poems.

Before I Was a Gazan

By Naomi Shihab Nye

I was a boy
and my homework was missing,
paper with numbers on it,
stacked and lined,
I was looking for my piece of paper,
proud of this plus that, then multiplied,
not remembering if I had left it
on the table after showing to my uncle
or the shelf after combing my hair
but it was still somewhere
and I was going to find it and turn it in,
make my teacher happy,
make her say my name to the whole class, before everything got subtracted
in a minute
even my uncle
even my teacher
even the best math student and his baby sister who couldn’t talk yet.
And now I would do anything
for a problem I could solve.

Listening to one another, and to music.

We send each other music now. This week Breena Clarke sent this beautiful music to me. I’m passing it along for you.

PS: If you’re anywhere near TEANECK come to the ALTE reading party today at the Puffin Gallery on Puffin Way at 4:30.