May 31: Pandemic Summer

I’ve started past summers by covering my refrigerator door in a colorful array of sticky notes, creating a massive list of goals, hobbies, and adventures meant to fill my summer break with experiences and accomplishments. This summer I’m leaving it blank. 

This coming Friday would be Track and Field Day at my school. In a lot of ways, that day is the emotional starting point for the end of the school year. However, because of the coronavirus and distance learning, our Track and Field Day is virtual this year. No sweaty day out in the sun. No kids dumping out their water bottles on each other. No Tug of War, or Fifth Grade All-Stars competition, or dunk tank, or subsequent happy hour which I probably would have gone to this year.

The beginning of summer break is a wonderful time, the launch pad of so much possibility, and so many things to do. Go see a movie in the middle of the afternoon, if you want. Meet up with a few friends for lunch somewhere you usually wouldn’t go and catch up. Enjoy the open time without any immediate responsibility, or at least less of it.

This year though, I don’t know how much it will even feel like a break, at least for me. I haven’t seen my students in nearly three months, and I won’t see them as a group ever again. I’m sure it will feel like summer, with the pounding afternoon sun and the humid air and the occasional storm rolling through. So summer, sure. But a break from what? My work day for the third trimester has meant sitting in front of my computer screen each day, which is what a good chunk of each day will be like as I work (and yeah, it really is WORK) to write one new manuscript and revise another. That was always going to happen. Anything I would have had on the Sticky Note To Do List would have been distractions around it.

But this year, what’s going to happen in the outside world? For the second time in 2020, the world has gone through remarkable change for the worst almost overnight just this past week. George Floyd was killed not even a week ago, and not for the first time we’re finding so much of our lives affected by the actions of one violent ex-cop. Tragically there’s no way everything that followed that won’t lead to a second wave of COVID-19 by July, and my guess is that by then one community demanding justice and another wanting to go up North every weekend won’t eagerly welcome another shelter-in-place order.

So in my little world, there are a lot of things that either I really can’t, or shouldn’t, do, as well as things that would be pointless. There won’t be the traditional countdown to the first day back to school in the fall, because there’s really no telling what the fall will look like. There won’t be any boiling afternoons spent in a dark movie theater to retreat from the excessive heat and the storm watches, because even if the theaters were open there aren’t exactly any movies out for them to show. There won’t be afternoons or evenings, or sometimes even mornings, wandering the aisles of Cub or Target for an hour, only to arrive at the check-out with a cartful of things I don't really need. Live music is pretty much dead at the moment, so the one concert I was excited about attending has been postponed for at least a year, to say nothing of how there wasn’t even a Summer Concert Series at the MN Zoo amphitheater announced. I didn’t even bother trying to pick an Official Driving With the Windows Rolled Down Album of the Summer, both because friggin’ 2020 doesn’t deserve one and because the last time I filled my gas tank was mid-March and it isn’t even half empty yet.

On top of all this — no State Fair. Maybe at least on the Fourth of July I can try to watch the fireworks from that show near my house …maybe they’ll allow that with social distancing…at least on the fourth I can watch the Hot Dog eating con…nope, that’s getting shut down for sure.

I don’t know. I mean, I fully expect the Second Wave to hit like a tsunami, but maybe before it does I’m being too cautious. A lot of people are getting sick, but a lot aren’t. NO, that’s the kind of magical thinking that ends up with people in the ICU. I’m not taking any risks I don’t have to, and if that means more time in the designated pick up spots in the Target parking lot instead of in the store, so be it. I’m walking around with an underlying condition or two here. I’m not taking any risks I absolutely don’t have to. 

Besides, there are still a lot of things I can do. There are dozens of books to read in my house, along with the two of my own I’ll be working on. In fact, I’m halfway through the new Stephen King right now and have an older John Sandford mystery I still haven’t read on deck. I’ve got miles and miles of summer dog walks ahead of me, along with sunny afternoons we’ll spend in our chairs on the patio. There are all of those shows on Netflix people talk about, and I’ll probably take the final technology dive into Disney+ at some point, to anesthetize myself with Marvel movies. I’m also taking on the summer project of catching up on classic movies I’ve never seen; I think “From Here to Eternity” is actually recording as I sit here and write this. I have a well-worn copy of Fallout: New Vegas at the ready for any night I can’t fall asleep, now that I don’t have to worry so much about waking up to “go to work” anymore. And as far as shopping? I can get pretty much whatever I need delivered to my house. To paraphrase one of my students from an assignment they wrote about living through a pandemic, there’s a difference between the things you want and the things you need.

Whatever happens, the summer of 2020 promises to be both quiet (personally) and dramatic (publicly). Let’s just hope there’s still a world left out there when it’s time to start school again in the fall. 

May 30: Reflections on Distance Learning

The distance learning experiment began two months ago today. Teachers, students, and parents all had to learn how to make it work along the way. Some things worked, some didn’t. The district staff who slapped the original plan together all in a matter of weeks may be all intelligent and experienced, but they are only people and are subject to the same limitations as the rest of us. 

After two months of teaching from my home office, I feel I’ve got some of the distance learning process figured out. Here are a few things I’ll be keeping in mind for if/when we eventually fall back into the same routine at some point in the coming school year.

*Be flexible with your time. Office hours mean there are times you’re expected to be available, but not every child or every family will be able to align with that schedule. 

*Stay in touch with the families. Some families will roll with it all fairly well. Some will be anxious and confused. Some will not be very involved at all. 

*Make your directions abundantly clear. Sooner or later, you’re going to explain the directions to an assignment in a way that aren’t as straightforward as you intended or believed them to be. In a classroom, you can monitor and adjust. You can’t online. There likely will be times when the best thing to do will be to accept it didn’t work and move on. Video or audio instructions are very helpful. Some kids still won’t watch them and will do everything wrong.

*Understand that sometimes things will not go the way you want and there won’t be much you can do about it. It’s hard to find a balance between the rigor of assignments being too easy and too difficult. Sometimes you’ll thread that needle, sometimes you won’t.

*Some kids who are used to trash talking through their gaming and texting online will think that kind of discourse will carry over into their school work. If they aren’t going to show simple respect online, you probably have the capability to limit their interaction in the digital classroom setting. Use it. I did, once. I had to put up with a temper tantrum in an email later, but it worked. 

*If there’s a kid in your class who never shows their work, never hands things in, complains constantly about what they need to do (and there is at least one kid like that in your class), you’re going to have to monitor their participation very closely. If you have ways to stay in contact with them, use those to remind them about what they need to do. If they aren’t getting their jobs done, let the families know. With some families, that works brilliantly and you’ll see immediate results. With others, you’ll at least some improvement, either overall or in spurts. With a very small number of exceptions, it won’t make any difference at all. 

*Realize when you have video chats that sometimes the kids are only there because they want to see their classmates, and they couldn’t care less about what you’re trying to teach them. 

*Your email inbox is going to get ridiculous. Whatever tools you have, keep the important messages tagged because they’ll disappear in the crowd five minutes after you first see them. 

*Be flexible in your expectations because you don’t know what anyone is going through, but hold them accountable for what they’re expected to do. The day is going to come when they need that skill for real. 

May 29: 5 Good Things

The world isn't a great place right now. Minneapolis is in turmoil, the global population is being dominated by a virus, and 45 just keeps coming up with new ways to embarrass and distress the country he’s supposed to represent. Usually when I make a list of good things, I either do it to highlight how many good things there are in life at that specific time. When I’ve done it before, I would include ten good things. Today, I feel lucky I was able to come up with five. 

1. My students are aware of what’s happening in the Cities. There was a fair amount of discussion about the riots on our Google Classroom this morning as several people took turns expressing how they felt about it. Most of them were scared. I don’t like the idea that they have to accept that things like this are a part of the world they live in, but I’m happy they’re aware of it. I believe this will help them to be more involved citizens as they grow up.

2. My school has a very diverse population. While there are unavoidable hints and moments when racism comes out in the open and has to be dealt with, most of the kids acknowledge each other as individuals first instead of members of any pre-defined group. I believe attending school in such an environment will help them learn tolerance. 

3. Our state has a governor with a wealth of useful life experience that helps him when it comes time to make difficult decisions. He is also someone who doesn’t shy away from the responsibility that falls to him when the time comes for him to make those decisions. 

4. This isn’t getting anywhere near the media coverage as the destruction, but there are so many people in affected communities taking it upon themselves to begin cleaning up after the ones who raged and burned and leveled tragic amounts of the city. There are people in the world making the effort to begin the process of bringing things back. These people are just as important as the elected leaders, if not more important, when it will come to healing. 

All right. I’m going to stop there. Things are pretty bad, and despite what points of view I try to look at things from, today I think I’m lucky I was able to come up with four. Maybe that should lead me into a fifth one: 

5. Even if things are bad right now, and even if our culture and society are horribly and combatively splintered, there’s always hope that things might someday be better for everyone.

May 28: We're Not in This Together

Today was National Hamburger Day. I wish this was the kind of frivolous thing people could widely enjoy, but there’s just too much going on to push the world in the other direction right now. 

There were riots overnight in Minneapolis, triggered by the death of George Floyd, an unarmed black man who’d had a police officer kneeling on his neck for so long he stopped breathing. In other head-shaking news, the president signed an executive order today, basically trying to weaponize a temper tantrum that started when a social media network dared to fact check his comments, after different media sources have documented thousands of lies he’s told during his administration. And on the subject of lying, it just came out that Republican state representatives in Pennsylvania didn’t tell their Democrat counterparts they had been exposed to COVID-19 because owning up to the spread didn’t fit their political agenda. 

Of course, each of these points I’ve raised are far more nuanced than how I’ve stated them, and I’m sure there would be people out there ready to argue against each point I’ve made, or perceived sides I’ve expressed on the issues. Fine. I concede I'm not the arbiter of all that is good and right and just. But what about scientists telling people to wear masks in public, and so many refusing to? What about people ignoring the guidelines meant to keep them and their loved ones alive during a pandemic? What about the institutional racism that too many in the country are willing to accept as just how things are? What about having a president who is more interested in being combative than trying to support and heal the country? 

I don’t care how many celebrities film public service announcements from their rec rooms telling the rest of us how "we’re all in this together." It does not seem to me that we are, or that we will be anytime soon.

May 27: Back to School

Today was the first day I’ve spent working in my classroom since halfway through the week before distance learning began. If we go as far back as the last day I’d spent in there with my students, it’s been approximately as long as a summer break. Today was one of the designated days for us to take care of some year-end wrap-up jobs, like cleaning, removing things from the walls, and taking care of some inventory. It was odd being back.

My fob still worked, so that was something. I walked in the building at about 8:30, and it felt like I was the only person there. The whole place smelled of humidity and floor wax, just like it does every year when we start back in August, after it’s been empty for so long and cleaned so thoroughly. After a few minutes I heard a child’s voice from far down the hallway, probably one of the first responders kids being taken care of during the day. The first person I saw was one of my team members. Even though I’d been on a video chat with her for nearly three hours the day before, it was a little jarring to see her for the first time after so long in real life.

The bells in our school are still scheduled to ring at the same times, whether students are in the schools or not. (Right now I just wondered if they still go off all through the summer.) Bells ringing in an empty building, with not even the voices of my colleagues talking in the halls feels like something out of a Walking Dead TV show or a Fallout video game. All of the student chairs are stacked and pushed to one corner of the room, with the desks grouped anonymously, much like I had left them. The math calendar we updated each day stands paused at March 12, the last day my class and I were all there together, seventy-six days ago, which is almost exactly the length of a typical summer break. The calendar triggers a thought. I look around the room and notice more detail, seeing that everything there is dated in the past, as if time had stopped at the onset of a calamity. Which isn’t far from the truth.

I made mental notes throughout the day about which personal items I’m touching that I’ll be bringing home, and which ones will need to be disinfected upon my return. Stopping every half hour to wash my hands eventually starts to irritate my hands. I feel certain they’ll be scaled and peeling and bleeding tonight. Hypothetically my classroom should be one of the safest places in the entire county, since the only people who have been in it during the past two months have been the ones coming in to clean and disinfect it. All the same, I remain cautious, perhaps too cautious, but unapologetically so. We keep hearing how the virus is primarily transmitted from person to person, with different theories about how long it could survive on different surfaces. I don’t want to be the person who leads to the discovery that the coronavirus is able to exist for thirteen weeks on whatever kind of metal pencil sharpeners are made of, so I’m trying hard not to take any chances. 

Luckily I don’t have much work to do. Because of the humidity, the blue painter’s tape I used to mount the posters to the wall surrenders its hold almost willingly. When I pull down a list of vocabulary words meant to prepare the kids for state testing, it gives me pause. With everything up in the air about how school will start in August and September, I realize I haven’t thought much about October, November, December, and so on. State testing was bagged almost as soon as distance learning began this year. I wonder how altered from the norm the next school year would have to be for that call to be made again. I smile a tiny bit, trying to imagine how panicked all the educational data jockeys of the world would be if that were to happen. 

I’m seeing constant traces of things that don’t just remind me of the people in my class, but of who they were as a class and all the things I really miss about them. I randomly think of one kid who had a day back in the winter when he wore five pairs of pants and nine shirts all layered, just to get a little extra attention. He would not enjoy the humidity filling the room that day, but that particular self-appointed class clown he would still dress that way, and pretend it didn’t bother him.

I finish everything I need to in just a few hours. That’s still less than what I normally would want to do. That’s a little difficult to reconcile, but, not knowing what the fall is going to look like, there doesn’t seem to be much point to doing everything I normally would. The idea of being able to begin a school year with a clean slate might elude me for a few years.

There’s really no emotion involved in picking up the things I decided to bring home and walking out to the parking lot. I can only hope there will be more closure to this weird and stupid year when the staff comes back in the final days to wrap it all up, and I get quick glimpses of my students when they drop off their books and computers, and I get one last chance to spend distanced time with my friends before we all retreat to our own versions of self-protection for the summer. There definitely won’t be any goodbye hugs being exchanged this year, which is too bad. Because I wouldn’t mind a few.

May 26: Masks

I saw the headline tonight on one of the news shows I watched commenting on how wearing masks in the time of COVID-19 has become a political football. In other words, there are people out in the world deciding on their own, or perhaps guided into making their decisions based on the nonsensical pronouncements of a woefully unqualified leader, that wearing a mask in the effort to slow the spread of the virus and protect others in the population is an indication of your political beliefs. 

My sister is a doctor of pharmacy working in a rural hospital. My cousin is the VHA National Infectious Diseases Clinical Pharmacy Program Manager, a title so long I had to actually copy and paste it from one of the many websites featuring her credentials, just to be sure I got it right. There are, at minimum, four others in my family I can think of working in environments that could be putting them at physical risk while this is going on. 

When the pandemic began in earnest, my sister, who also likes to sew along with knowing more about medicine than most of us have ever known about anything, made a mask for me. Actually, she's probably made hundreds of them by now, but I think I probably got one from the first batch. I'm fully aware that the protection wearing a mask offers me is minimal at best. I'm also aware how my wearing a mask offers more protection to others from the virus I could potentially, and unknowingly, be carrying. I'm fine with that. Actually, I'd rather be able to walk around in an impenetrable bubble to be completely safe myself, but I'll take the minimal protection they offer. The way I see it, if my wearing a mask could, in any remotely possible way, keep any of the people in my family who are working to protect the rest of us from the virus a little more safe at their jobs, it's a small sacrifice to make. 

It's kind of hot. It's flannel, so it's a little scratchy. I'll wear it while I'm out walking the dog, which is nearly the only time I leave my yard and could encounter any other people. I'm usually the only person I see on our walks wearing a mask. I don't care. Luckily most of the people I briefly encounter are a good distance away already, and just say hello and go on their merry ways. Sometimes I'll get looks or second glances that seem paired with some silent judgement, but that's fine. Maybe they'll come around someday. Hopefully they won't be forced to by a second wave in weeks or months that proves so much worse than what we've seen so far. As long as I don't need to listen to any of the self-righteous diatribes they've crafted after all the one-sided media they've digested, or the passive-aggressive and condescending speeches they'd like to share in an effort to educate me on how misguided and paranoid I'm being, I figure, live and let live. 

Because whether they realize it or not (and I'd argue they often don't), live and let live is very much a cooperative endeavor right now. 

May 25: The Edited Memorial Day 500

The grandpa of classic rock radio in the Cities, KQRS, has a traditional countdown every Memorial Day of 500 songs. I don’t how they determine which songs are included or in what order they appear on the list; none of that really matters because more often than not they wind up with a list that, in classic rock terms, makes as much sense as drawing song titles out of a hat. I listened to quite a bit of it this year, though. It was fun to hear a lot of radio songs and get a little touch of the outside world instead of going through my own playlists again and again. Of course I didn’t listen to all 500 songs — I don’t know how anyone could. But luckily they posted their list online so I could examine everything wrong with it. 

For today’s post, I went through their list of 500 and chose 100 songs that I agreed should have been somewhere on that list. There were others I would have included, but these are the ones that, despite what discombobulated order they were in, merited a place. So here we go, if you’re curious: 100 songs that KQRS got right for their 2020 Memorial Day 500. I’m only including song titles on my list, because frankly, the song titles here should be enough for you to know what they are and who sang them. As always, in no particular order: 

*There’s Only One Way to Rock
*Born to Run
*Dust in the Wind
*Mother
*Talk Dirty to Me 
*Bad Reputation
*Stone in Love
*New Year’s Day
*Cult of Personality
*Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting
*Blue Collar Man
*Roll with the Changes
*Rooster
*I Don’t Care Anymore
*It’s A Long Way to the Top (if you Want to Rock and Roll)
*Feels Like the First Time
*Shadows of the Night
*For Those About to Rock
*Heat of the Moment
*My Sharona
*Dr. Feelgood
*Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’
*Crazy Little Thing Called Love
*Shot in the Dark
*(Oh) Pretty Woman
*In Your Eyes
*Rocket
*Young Lust
*Mysterious Ways
*Fat Bottomed Girls
*Closer to the Heart
*Flying High Again
*December
*Bringin’ on the Heartbreak
*Tiny Dancer
*Somebody to Love
*Basket Case
*Only the Good Die Young
*Learning to Fly
*The Stroke
*Don’t Come Around Here No More
*Dancing in the Dark
*Revolution
*Shine
*Night Moves
*November Rain
*Take it on the Run
*Cherry Pie
*Gimme All Your Lovin’
*Once Bitten, Twice Shy
*Maggie May
*Under Pressure
*I Hate Myself for Loving You
*No More Tears
* Surrender
*Rock of Ages
*Shoot to Thrill 
*Come Sail Away
*You Really Got Me
*Working for the Weekend
*Animal
*The Spirit of Radio
*Wanted Dead or Alive
*Faithfully
*Foreplay/Long Time
*She Talks to Angels
*Sister Christian
*Hold the Line
*I Remember you
*Home Sweet Home
*Why Can’t This Be Love
*You Might Think
*Paradise City
*Two Tickets to Paradise
*Nothing Else Matters
*Comfortably Numb
*Hysteria
*Keep on Lovin’ You
*Wish You Were Here
*The Boys of Summer
*Bohemian Rhapsody
*Renegade
*Separate Ways
*Kickstart My Heart
*The Immigrant Song
*Take Me Home Tonight
*Jack and Diane
*Back in Black
*Photograph
*Carry On Wayward Son
*Go Your Own Way
*More than a Feeling
*Livin’ on a Prayer
*Pour Some Sugar on Me
*Don’t Stop Believin’
*You Shook Me All Night Long
*We Will Rock You
*Sweet Emotion
*Tom Sawyer
*Enter Sandman

If you don’t agree, that’s okay. That’s the beauty of a countdown like this — so many of the songs will mean different things to different people. With that in mind, feel free to make your own list if you’re as pathetic as I am and willing to invest the kind of time it takes to do something like this.

May 24: Our Shared Experience

The COVID-19 pandemic will doubtlessly be remembered as one of the most significant events of the past century. Recently our fifth graders read a story about the Great Depression for an assignment. As part of their follow-up, they were asked to think of themselves as being potential primary sources for what it was like to live through this time period, and to write a journal entry describing their experiences. It was fascinating to read what they wrote, because as predictable as many of the responses were — missing their friends, missing school, wanting to play sports in the summer, wanting to travel, being bored while stuck at home, and so on — there were a few that revealed unexpected moments of depth and vulnerability:

*Everyone else is going through the same thing, so I guess we will get used to living our lives like this.
*When people have these changes together it might be easier for them because they won’t feel so alone in this change.
*People will learn what we need and what we want.
*Now we know to enjoy what we do each day because it could change tomorrow.

After reading the things they wrote, I decided to take a crack at it myself.

Dear diary, 

Today’s date is May 24, 2020.

How I felt when I heard school wouldn’t be reopening: 
I was relieved and frightened. Relieved in a selfish manner, knowing I wouldn’t need to be out in public more than what was absolutely necessary. Frightened because the world had changed so dramatically and so quickly, and the situation had become something serious enough to threaten the well-being of myself, my students, my family, and my friends.

What I miss most about life before the pandemic broke out:
The simple act of going out in public and feeling secure is something I hope I never take for granted again. The last time I went to a store, there were more people walking around without masks than with them. I boiled a little when I saw the unmasked roaming the aisles, either unconcerned with the responsibilities they had as a part of the citizenry, or oblivious to how serious things are, or acting like one of these people too misguided or ignorant to somehow equate the changes required to their daily lives during a pandemic with an infringement on their personal freedoms they probably hadn't thought twice about until someone asked them to do things they didn't want to do.

My new day looks like: 
I rarely leave my house, other than to pick up the newspaper in the morning, take the dog out for walks, or get the mail in the late afternoon. While I’m teaching, I spend a lot of time at the computer in my home office, reviewing assignments that maybe 35% of the students care about. I get a lot of things delivered to my house, or a pick them up curbside, only speaking to other people through a closed windows and doors. Other than that, life is finding ways to either keep my mind occupied to avoid the loneliness or to anesthetize it: Watching TV. Reading. Sudoku. Naps. Thankfully I have a dog who will follow me from room to room, unless there’s a good-sized sunny patch waiting for him somewhere else.

Something I want the future generations to know: 
Many of our leaders tried to keep the population safe and healthy, but many of them also looked for ways to direct this tragic turn of events to their personal or political advantage. Always remember: It matters who you elect. 

May 23: Q & A

What is Freddie’s favorite treat?
Probably Blue Buffalo bones.

Is cereal actually a type of soup?
No.

Name something that is invisible that you wish people could see.
It’s not actually invisible, but it’s small enough to be thought of such: I’d sure like to see where the coronavirus particles really are.

Other than Paul, what are the most awesome names in the universe?
Eduardo and Martha.

In twenty years, what will people be nostalgic for?
The days before the global population had been decimated.

What would be the worst thing for the government to make illegal?
Anything that would prevent 45 from being re-elected.

Why has there never been a character named Paul in one of your novels?
I tend not to use the names of people I know, because it makes it hard to visualize fully-developed characters if I do.

Contrast and compare Don Shelby with Frank Vascellaro and/or Mark Rosen with Mike Max and Paul Douglas and Chris Shaffer.
Don was a respected journalist who respected the citizenry of the Twin Cities and was good at his job; Frank is an oak tree that attended Ron Burgundy’s School of Teleprompter Reading While Not Actually Having a Personality of Any Kind and Only Has a Job Because of His Wife Because He’s Awful. Mark Rosen openly acknowledged that sports were only entertainment, but worth covering because people are interested in them. Mike Max is a one-dimensional tool who feeds sound bites to his interview subjects and dresses like a Dick Tracy villain. Paul Douglas is a scientist. Chris Shaffer belongs on a morning zoo radio team and should have his pay docked for every musical pun he awkwardly forces into his forecasts.

When are your books coming out?
No idea. Not up to me. 

What would make the best movie ever?
I honestly don’t even know how to answer this. 

If you weren’t a teacher and a writer, what would be your most likely alternative profession?
A sociologist. Human behavior and interaction fascinates me. 

Name and elaborate on the top three things to help pull you out of a down mood.
My down moods come on suddenly and hit hard. They usually have to do with something triggering my assessment of my life, which I typically generalize as less than a raging success. A moment of Happy Freddie will pull me out, because he gives me tangible evidence that I’m someone’s first. Reading a book that I’m invested in can work too, because it pulls me into thinking about something else. Getting a text or a message I’m not expecting from someone I’d like to hear from works too, since it makes me feel validated to know someone was at least thinking enough about me to want to reach out, if even to just ask a question.

What are your top three Herschel Walker quotes and why?
“Chuck Norris is a punk and would fit inside my helmet.”
“My proudest accomplishments are all the rings I won in my years playing for the Oklahoma GoBots.”
“I’ll never be as good at anything as John Petrucci is at playing guitar.”

What is the funniest prank you have played on your sister(s)?
Probably hiding the car on the far side of the gas station. I don’t think I’ve ever been one to do a lot of pranking.

What was it like having to be all the male characters when we played Little House with neighbors growing up?
I guess I was okay with it. It was the 1970s and all of the male characters on Little House were part of the patriarchy, so, being somewhere between 3 and 7, I suppose I felt a little bit like I was secretly in charge of whatever we were doing.

In one sentence, how would you sum up the internet?
The internet can be a great tool to find the information you need, and to see examples of how toxic people really are when they aren’t wearing one of the masks that regulate their real-life behavior. 

How many evil chickens would it take to kill an elephant?
Impossible to answer without knowing how many chickens there are, how intelligent they are, and how organized they are.

Who do you know that reminds you of a TV or movie character?
I can only think of one person, and I will refrain from saying who they, or the character, are. 

What is the most obtuse question Paul has ever asked you?
I don’t think of Paul’s more obtuse questions as obtuse, but more as welcomed thought experiments. And there are too many to count.

Generally speaking, are Republicans more selfish than Democrats or Independents?
 I don’t think any of those groups would see themselves as selfish. But, if you were to consider the things they value and stand for, and run a quick moral inventory about who really has the best interests of the most people at heart, you’d probably have your answer.

Who is your favorite Muppet and why? Do you have a favorite Muppet movie and why?
The muh-nuh-muh-nuh guy. Or animal. Both because they represent the out-there entertainment potential of The Muppets. I don’t have a favorite movie, since I haven’t watched a Muppet movie since probably 1978. 

Favorite food?
Sadly there are too many to narrow down. Depends on my mood. But mostly breakfast food.

Top three goals for the next six months to a year?
Be healthier. Finish another book. Stay alive.

Do you believe narwhals are the unicorns of the sea? Why or why not?
No. Because unicorns are the narwhals of the land.

What is your favorite facial hair configuration of Chris’s over the years?
Whatever makes him the happiest.

Why do you hate the Beatles so much?
I feel I’ve explained this many times, but for the people in the cheap seats: I don’t hate the Beatles. I just don’t believe their music is so great that they deserve the unwavering adulation they receive. Now, the Eagles? That’s a conversation we could have.

If you were independently wealthy, what would you do differently in your life?
I’d want a nice house — not a mansion, but just a really nice, comfortable open house with great views through storm-proof windows — and a trustworthy cleaning service to take care of it for me. I don’t know if it would affect my self-esteem at all to have more money, but maybe it would provide opportunities that would help develop that. I’d dress better. Not an interesting answer, but luckily I have a decent enough job and simple enough needs that I’ve never wondered much about what being independently wealthy would be like.

Extreme Optimists Guide to Summer Blockbusters?
Good movies get released On Demand. 

What are your three favorite things to do in Wall Drug?
1) Buy souvenirs that say “Wall Drug” on them. 2) Drink some of the free ice water, if they still have that. 3) Sit down and eat a buffalo burger. I had one there once, and it was tasty.

Which model of Purple mattress did you buy? And do you still like your mattress?
I think whichever is the most firm. Yes, I do. 

Are there two holes in a straw or only one?
One.

Is the S or the C in the word “scent” silent?
“SC” creates a consonant blend, so neither.

Does the week start on Sunday or Monday?
Monday. 

Is a hot dog a sandwich?
No.

Pandemic Narrative, Part 11: The Fair

Today’s COVID-19 stats: With 5.15 million confirmed cases worldwide and 1.62 million in the United States, the Home of the Brave is also home to just under one-third of all the infections. What a badge of honor that is. Minnesota is right around 18,200 cases, but that’s in the end of May. Based on the models discussed in the news, Minnesota has yet to reach a peak. Why we are taking as many steps to open is beyond me…I mean, I get how crippling this is for so many businesses and families who aren't able to work. It doesn’t seem like a lot of people are going to be taking advantage of enough newly-reopened options to make it financially worthwhile. I still believe opening at this point only increases the likelihood of the second wave, which already seems inevitable, only being worse than where we’re at right now.

The big news of the day is that the announcement that the state fair will not be opening this year. If you’re not from Minnesota or at least an adjacent state, it’s really hard to convey exactly how fundamental to the collective identity of the population the state fair is. Me personally, I’ve never been one to live and die by it. I’ve gone dozens of times, but it’s been the rare instance I’ve ever found anything particularly transcendent about it. I don’t think I could even make an entire day out of it anymore: I’d need to have the best, most supportive walking shoes known to humanity, and a place I could go to recharge; a fair that has attendance records broken several times each year is not an ideal space for an off-the-charts introvert to spend an entire day. Sooner or later, you reach a point where you just need the quiet.

I don’t go every year, but more often than not I enjoy it when I do. For me, whether or not I’m going to hit every bullet point on my food checklist is less important than spending the day with some of my people and having some run outside of the routine. There’s a sense of community and history that permeates everything about the fair, even radiating from the buildings you pass without entering or the corners you didn’t have the time to visit. It’s no surprise to see why it’s such an important event to so many people. 

This is why you spend at least half of your time there waiting in line for things. And bumping into people while you’re trying to walk from Point A to Point B. Or jammed into an overstuffed shuttle bus to the fairgrounds. Or waiting in a bus queue at the end of the day, hoping there will be enough room on the next one to arrive so you can finally be on your way home. The fair is a good time, but the wash of humanity you’re surrounded by from beginning to end is overwhelming. 

I had suspected at least a month ago the fair would close. What I’m thinking about now is more about what school will be like to go back to. You see, the run of the State fair lines up pretty closely with the week and a half or so involved in teachers getting back to school and preparing to start the year. The last day of the fair is Labor Day, and public schools traditionally open to following day. If the state is anticipating the need for social distancing will still be necessary enough to shut down the fair, I can’t even begin to guess what the start of the next school year will be like. 

May 21: A Return to the Birthday Horoscope

It’s been a few years since I’ve done a “Your Birthday Today Horoscope” post. I had a landmark birthday in 2018 and decided to go a different direction. Last year I had Freddie take on my Guest Writer responsibilities, which he did on my birthday. So, let’s go back to 2017 and see exactly how things have worked out since then: 

Your success secret: big aims and small plans. There’s a sense of forward movement through the entire solar return; progress in any area brings you forward in others, even if it’s not immediately apparent. July and September will bring financial gains you can reinvest for a bigger payoff in December. Libra and Taurus adore you. Your lucky numbers are: 6, 45, 20, 19, and 38.

Okay, so that was a bunch of crap. I don’t remember exactly how the 2017-2018 ride around the sun went, but I can safely say that any of the things listed that promised anything close to a long-term positive change worked out the way Holiday Mathis had predicted it would. It’s really surprising they let her still publish horoscopes with the track record she has. I'm beginning to doubt her reliability.

Anyway, here’s what, in her infinite cosmic wisdom, my astrological advisor/life coach/role model Holiday Mathis is promising for my Chad Greenway year: 

“Your kindness radiates in all directions including toward yourself (Kindness? Radiates? In all directions? Toward YOURSELF? Already I’m suspicious) and this fortifies and emboldens you to new heights of originality (I fail to see how these things would be connected; I think Holiday is just giving her thesaurus a workout here). You’ll fascinate (um, have I ever fascinated anyone? Doubtful), draw a crowd (of children who are legally required to be with me, provided school or crowds ever happens again), sell to it and fund an enterprise you wholeheartedly believe in (I don’t even know what this means). How satisfying to know you’re making the kind of difference the world really needs now (equally satisfying to be told that staying home and not interacting with anyone is apparently the difference the world needs). Sagittarius and Aquarius adore you (Again with this? Each year she lists two astrological signs that supposedly adore me. I’m waiting to see any evidence that this is ever true. Come on, all you adoring Sagittariuses and Aquariuses; if you’re reading this, you probably know how to get in touch). Your lucky numbers are: 6, 10, 33, 20, and 17 (Holiday finally took 45 off my list. Gosh, I wonder why 45 wouldn't be considered a lucky number anymore).

There is literally no telling what the coming year has in store. I mean, that’s essentially true every year, but back in the B.C. era we could at least predict a lot of things based on whatever reliable behavior patterns we’ve established for ourselves. This year, though? I think that’s out the window. 

I think it will be a good idea for this next orbit if we all hold on with both hands...but just not to each other.

May 20: Childbirth During a Pandemic (Guest Writer)

My Guest Writer post this year comes to us courtesy of my colleague, Shae. I’ve worked with her a number of years now. She started at my school as a special ed. teacher. We had at least one year when students in my class were on her case load, which brought her into my classroom frequently. After that she joined me on the 5th grade team, where she remains today. 

Last year, 2019, really was her year. After working at it with more self-discipline than I’ve ever seen anyone else display, she earned pro status in competitive body building (which was great on the days when the caps of my Diet Mountain Dew bottles were too tight for me). The same day that happened, her long-time boyfriend proposed. Months later they were married. Not long after that she was pregnant with her first child. Any one of those life events would have been defining for a whole year on their own, but she lined them up and knocked them down inside of the same twelve months. 

Then, of course, 2020 hit and the world began to burn. The due date for her little guy was in the back half of April, which gave her a good number of weeks to wonder about and plan for and stress over what was going to be involved in giving birth during a pandemic. 

When I posted a general invitation for anyone who wanted to take on a guest writer slot during this year’s marathon of daily posting in May, she offered to write something up. Here’s what she has to say about making it through what was, and continues to be, a very singular experience.

**********

When I pictured my birth story throughout my pregnancy, I never imagined that it would end up being what it was. How could I have ever prepared myself for welcoming my first baby into this world during a pandemic? When the news of COVID-19 first started to surface, it seemed like a distant issue. The thought that the virus could make it's way to America and impact us on the scale that it has never crossed my mind. Boy was I naive. 

Around the beginning of March students at school started to talk about the Coronavirus... and suddenly needed hand sanitizer on them at all times. We had a few discussions about it, and I told them they didn't need to worry. I was convinced myself that there was no cause for concern. I could have never predicted that the last day of school before spring break would be the last day I would see my students for the school year. Again, I was naive. But really, who wasn't? 

So, with a stay-at-home order in place, I got to spend the last month of my pregnancy within the comfort of my own home. I had the privilege of being able to wear comfortable clothes all day, put my feet up when I needed, go for walks with my pups to keep myself and baby moving, and most importantly I could freely use the bathroom (no running across the hall to find someone to cover my class!). It was kind of an ideal situation for me. I remember thinking throughout that entire last month how badly I wanted my son to be here. That I would worry less about COVID once he was here. At this point, I should have just been wearing a giant glowing sign on my head that said "NAIVE." 

As soon as the threat of the virus hit home for me, I quarantined myself. I didn't leave the house unless it was for a doctor's appointment. I started to worry about so many things that were out of my control. I didn't want to worry about these things, but it felt impossible not to:

1) What happens to my baby if I get the virus?

2) What if I have COVID when it comes time for delivery?

3) What if my husband gets it, and he can't be in the labor & delivery room with me?

4) What if I have to do this alone?

5) Will I be separated from my baby if I have the virus at the time of delivery?

6) When will my family be able to meet my son? 

My son's due date was April 19th. I was convinced he would be early. However, he had other plans. In the early afternoon of April 23rd I noticed that I was feeling different. I couldn't exactly explain it, but my body just felt different. A few hours later I started to experience contractions in my lower back (damn back labor). My husband and brother were working on putting in our new kitchen island (awesome timing).. and I started to time my contractions. Today was going to be the day! 

Sidebar: Throughout my entire pregnancy I limited the amount of excitement that I felt about the arrival of my son, because I was afraid that as soon as I truly accepted that I was going to be a mom, that it would be taken away from me. This was my way of "preparing" for a worst-case scenario. SO, when it finally came time for my little man to be here, I allowed myself to feel some of the excitement that I had been pushing away for so long. Unfortunately, I had imagined that when I finally allowed myself to feel this excitement, and soak in the joy of my son, that I would be doing so with my family and friends. COVID took that from me. 

We had to wear masks in the hospital, but other than that things felt pretty normal. It didn't seem out of place to see doctors and nurses in masks. My husband and I were both healthy, so some of my earlier fears faded. I ended up being in labor for about 16 hours, and I pushed for a little over three of those. On top of that I had to be poked twice for the epidural, my babe was sunny-side up and wouldn't rotate, and then he had his cord wrapped around his neck. He also decided he didn't want to breathe on his own right away, so we suddenly had 11 nurses in the room working on him while I'm laying helpless on the hospital bed watching. After what felt like an eternity, but was really only 10 minutes or so, our little guy was doing significantly better. He just need a little help getting started. Overall, my labor and delivery experience wasn't impacted by COVID, and for that I'm thankful. 

I was saddened at first when hospitals no longer allowed visitors. I had always pictured my family coming to visit at the hospital to share in the joy of my son. However, I was actually a little bit appreciative that people weren't allowed to visit in the hospital as I can't imagine having visitors on top of how frequently the nurses were coming in. Not to mention how exhausted I was. I wouldn't mind if that rule stayed in place forever.

My son is now almost 4 weeks old. The first couple nights home were rough, but things have gotten a bit better. Every day is so different. Being a new parent is hard. I think any parent could tell you that. However, most new parents are lucky enough to have some help from family or friends. Whether it be holding the baby so mom and dad can get some stuff done around the house or take a nap, or actually having people do some cleaning or laundry while mom feeds baby and dad naps.. however it looks, it sounds wonderful to just have an extra hand. I felt okay about being on my own, with my husband of course, at first. But yesterday, I'd had enough. I broke down while on the phone with my dad. What I wouldn't give to be able to have my mom or my sister come over (even to just hang out with)... and not on the deck six feet apart. I don't mind some alone time now and again, but it's been two months. I'm over it. I've never done so much sitting in my life. I'm going stir crazy, and my body actually hurts from not doing anything. Obviously, if I wasn't recovering myself and had some time in the day to do so, I would be getting some sort of workout in. Right now though, that's not feasible most days. 

I'm exhausted. I miss my family and friends. I have this beautiful baby boy that I only get to share with loved ones through glass. My son is my grandma and grandpa's first great-grandchild. I know this isn't just hard on me. The worst part? I have NO idea when things are going to get better. My husband and I are now discussing safe ways we can have our family hold our son without jeopardizing anyone's health or safety. It is extremely stressful. But we can't live in isolation forever. I know this. Unfortunately, it doesn't make it any easier. We have a long road ahead. 

So, if you have any friends/loved ones that are pregnant or newly a parent, reach out to them. Offer to come sit outside with them while social distancing (I know it's not the same but it's something), check in to see how they're doing, bring over some coffee or food, or simply tell them they're doing a great job. The stress of being a new parent is hard enough as it is. Having to do it alone during a freaking pandemic? Simply unfair. 

You know what though? Every time I look down at my baby boy I am reminded that it's worth it. One day I'll look back on this unexpected birth story, and remember how strong I was. Maybe not every day, but damnit, I was (AM) a warrior. 

May 19: Trivia Night

It’s a short post today, because, for the first time in a long, long time, I have actual things I have to do. 

I don’t mean school work. That always exists as a have-to, and will right up to the day when I’m back in the building trying to limp my way over the finish line of this blindfolded three-legged race of a school year. I don’t mean cleaning, because I’ve found that unless I spill something that will leave a stain on something else, cleaning during a stay at home order never reaches the level of being a crisis alert. I don’t mean walking the dog; he’s already had two of them today, and a quick duck outside and hurrying over to the neighborhood walking path will only take us five or ten minutes, which is hardly enough time to count as a commitment. There just aren’t a lot of have-tos when there isn’t anything or anyone holding you accountable.

Tonight, however, is Night 3 in a series of Staff Online Trivia Nights in which people from my school have participated. Our trivia nights have been pretty great. They give people a chance to see each other and talk, catch up on the latest non-pandemic news of each other’s lives, and actually engage in a form of social interaction. 

The whole thing had been my idea, which probably just means I was sitting here ten times more lonely than anyone else and needed a way to break out of that. Early on in the quarantine, I had seen and heard about different groups starting up online happy hours or Bingo games, giving people a chance to feel a little less cut off. The group of people I ate lunch with every day back in the B.C. era (Before Corona) would do the Isaac Asimov Super Quiz in the newspaper each day, and occasionally, depending on who happened to be walking through the lounge when we did it, trivia nights and the people who did them would come up conversationally. Doing an online one seemed like a logical next step. 

I put the idea out there on the staff Facebook group we’d set up, just before this pandemic donkey fest got underway. It turned out there was interest! I sent out an email to the school staff and found even more people anxious to join. 

I took on the responsibility of hosting of putting together the categories and questions, then hosting the event, which turns out to be a perfect way of disguising how much I really don’t know about things. The first time we did it we had about 25 people coming and going, many with drinks in hand, all seeming pretty happy to see other faces than the ones of the people they were confined with. The second night was a smaller event with about ten people, but it still turned out to be a lot of fun. Tonight we’ve got twenty people who have asked to get the Google invite tonight, so I think it’ll be a fun time. 

All I know is how nice it will be to go to bed tonight feeling like I’d just gone out for a staff event, even if it’s taking place only ten feet from my bedroom door.

May 18: The Other Bruce

Last Friday was a disappointment. Back in September or October, there was a big announcement for the HellaMega Tour, a package tour featuring Green Day, Fall Out Boy, and Weezer. It was scheduled to stop at Target Field in Minneapolis, and a small group of people from school got some tickets. Green Day, especially in the later part of their career, has been one of my favorite bands. Fall Out Boy, well, sure. I’m never going to live or die by them, but I usually enjoy them when they come on the radio. Weezer has always been hit or miss for me, but when they hit they have music I really like.

Once the tour was announced, album release dates for all the bands soon followed. Weezer’s was the last one, expected to come out on May 15, 2020. Almost a year out, which was frustrating, but even more so when I heard their new song and read promises from the band of how representative that sound was of the entire album. It was supposed to come out last Friday. It didn’t, having been indefinitely delayed…because of the virus. Now, while I’m trying to figure out what digital music has to do with new music being released, it does lead me to speculate that the tour will either be postponed or cancelled. That’d be a bummer, but really, I can’t see a world in which it would still be held and I’d feel safe being in the audience. 

I’d been all primed and ready to buy new music on Friday, but it didn’t happen, and, as I mentioned, I was very disappointed by this turn of events. New music during the quarantine would have been great, since it could be one of the few things that would actually break me out of this “Groundhog Day” moment of life we’re all muddling through. I looked around for more new music to scratch this itch, but didn’t find anything suitable. Until Sunday. 

Last year, about this time, Bruce Hornsby released his first album in a number of years. It turned out that just last month, unbeknownst to me at the time, he had also released a new live album, recorded from the tour of that new album. I clicked purchase immediately. 

Now, let me tell you a little about Bruce Hornsby since there are way too many people out there who are woefully uninformed about his career. He is NOT just the “Mandolin Rain” guy, or the “The Way it Is” guy. Yeah, those were his songs, but he will even sometimes warn at the beginning of a live show that if anyone was coming to see him play those songs, or even semi-recognizable versions of them, they’d likely go home disappointed. The music he’s been recording and playing for the last quarter century would best be described as a musical gumbo including some pop, some classic rock, some bluegrass, some country, some alternative, and even some classical. He takes all those different genres and brings them together into something distinctly his, then goes out on the road to perform with a band of musicians so ridiculously talented that they probably communicate with each other through musical ideas as effectively as they do with words. 

Of course, as miraculous as the playing can be, it won’t get very far without the right songs to play, which is what brings the Bruce Hornsby Live Experience up to even another level. He’s as much of a storyteller as anything else in his songs, not just in the way so many of his lyrics are crafted into so many narratives, but done so in a way where the words and the music come together to complement each other perfectly. 

I’ve seen him play live a number of times, usually with his band but once where it was just him and his piano. The shows are transcendent; you just sit there and let the music wash over you and try to keep up with what you’re seeing and hearing. 

In a time when live music isn’t going to be around for a good long time, and some bands are even shelving their albums because they don’t get to immediately tour behind them, it was magic to discover the true gem of a new live Hornsby album to take in. 

Just to give you an idea of what I’m going on about, I looked up a video of Bruce and his band playing one of my favorite live versions of his songs. The song they play here clocks in just over thirteen minutes, but if you’ve read this far, I’d encourage you to watch this video. After all, there’s a pandemic going on out there. What else do you have to do? 

White Wheeled Limousine

May 17: Summer?

It’s been a quiet and rainy weekend. There haven’t been any massive storms rolling through, but more of what the meteorologists would label a “soaking rain.” Rainy days are your friend during a pandemic. It seems like it’s a lot easier to stay in and fill the hours with different varieties of nothing when there’s no motivation to be outside. 

We’re more than halfway through the month now. It seems like the days pass more quickly when you can’t tell them apart. Even though this weekend has been cold and rainy, the forecast is promising/threatening temperatures reaching into the high 80s by the end of the week. I don’t know if that’s supposed to be the beginning of a long trend that will bring us into June or just a preview weekend of the hot days yet to come, but I’m sure it’s going to be enough to put the people around here in the mind of summer. Usually that means beaches and boats, fairs and festivals, whatever people can find to do that will let them enjoy being outdoors for the seventy days of the year when the weather doesn’t suck. 

The state is allegedly scheduled to begin opening tomorrow, but I think it’s going to happen at a much slower rate than most people expect. I saw a survey online with a few thousand votes saying 70% of the responders would not go back to visit their favorite restaurant in the first week it had re-opened. (I was one of them.) 

I know I’ll have bright and comfortably mornings to walk the dog, and steamy afternoons to sit out on the patio and enjoy the warmth. I plan on leaving my air condition off for as long as possibly can this year, just to enjoy the feel of breezes blowing through my house and helping me feel a little less confined. I don’t know what the options will be for getting out and doing things, though. So many summer distractions seem like they’ll either be off the table altogether or only available for those either brave or foolish enough to risk participation. Movie theaters? I could probably get away with that pretty easily since I see most of my summer movies in the afternoon when there are only ten other people in the auditorium. Of course, the theater would have to actually be open for that to happen. Shopping? Probably not. Concerts? I have a ticket to a big one at Target Field late in the summer. I’m all but certain the entire tour is either going to be cancelled or postponed, and if it isn’t, I don’t know how comfortable I’ll feel in a baseball stadium filled with strangers by then. 

So many things have changed because of this virus. People talk about a new normal all the time. I’m starting to wonder if the new normal is going to be something long-term paradigm shift instead of just a temporary collection of frustrating inconveniences. If I had the chance, I’d really like to get just a quick peek about three years into the future to see what the world is going to be like by then. 

The only thing I feel sure about right now is that this summer is going to be marked by little more than warmer days, occasional storms, and a lot of cancelled county fairs.

May 16: Actual Binge

Maybe it's because I live alone, or because my self-esteem is questionable at best on a good day, but I feel like there's a perception out there in certain circles that I'm something of a couch potato. I have to say that for the most part, this isn't true. There's something in my personal make up that leaves me feeling depressed if I spend too much time doing nothing, and most of the time that describes watching TV pretty well. 

I watched a lot of "The Office" a couple summers ago while I was very gradually and patiently letting Freddie acclimate to his new home, telling myself that no, sitting there watching so many episodes in a row really was doing something so it was okay. I also started a re-watch of "Community" at the beginning of April when it showed up on Netflix, since it turns out there's not a lot of choices when it comes to spending your time during quarantine. Even with that though, I couldn't really call three or four episodes a night a binge. In fact, it was the rare event when I would get the "Are you still watching?" message. 

But I did just finish a binge. This week my cable provider had some kind of a deal where other networks and services that aren't usually available suddenly were, so I sought out the drama/horror series "Castle Rock" and burned through 20 episodes in just over three and a half days. 

When the show first came out a few years ago, I was really interested. A series based on locations from Stephen King novels, and even including a few characters as well? It was intriguing. The town Castle Rock gets mentioned in a lot of his books, so I wanted to see what they were going to do with it as a TV series. Of course I didn't have the right service, so I figured maybe it'd come out on Blu-Ray someday. For all I know it has, because despite a few people encouraging me to watch it, I'd mostly put the idea on the back burner...until I figured out that I was going to have access to it for a week. However, I didn't put that together until the first few days of the week were over. 

I wasn't about to let this opportunity go. After a few early mornings, long evenings, and late nights, I managed to finish both seasons of the show earlier this afternoon. If you've seen the show, you'll know there are things I don't want to talk about here because there would be some big spoilers for anyone who would want to see it someday. I will say that watching this show in such a short amount of time was not different from diving into a great novel and reading it over a weekend, although it'd be two novels in this case. It was like watching movies made out of two very different Stephen King books that I hadn't read before. Even if these stories didn't come from books or scripts from Stephen King (which is fine; I'll admit to being a bigger fan of his novels than his scripts), they felt like them. All the beats were there - the broken, plagued characters trying to make things better for themselves and the ones they love, the setting that seems so depressed and forgotten by the world it might as well be haunted, and the questions about what's going on in the story that push you on to read the next chapter. 

If you can handle Stephen King books, and you have Hulu all the time, I'd easily recommend this show. If you have any questions about whether or not you could handle the constant dread, the shocking moments, and the dark revelations... it's probably not for you. 

And after watching so much TV this week, I think I'm going to find something else to do this evening that doesn't involve screens.

May 15: Every Day is Exactly the Same

Wake up. Dog wakes up. Get up, take him outside. We both eat breakfast. Read the paper with the morning news on TV. Shower and dress. Go to "school." Take the dog for a late-morning walk. Lunch break. Back to "school." Try to clean something. Watch TV. Eat dinner. Read or more TV. Bed.

This is how 95% of my weekdays have been spent since I started spring break. I filled my car's gas tank on the way home from my last work day at my actual school, and the gauge barely reads down a quarter tank. It's been so long since my alarm clock has gone off that I don't remember what it sounds like. My dog has learned that if I'm putting on my mask, it means he probably gets to go outside.

I have physically entered stores four times in these two months, and only stayed as long as necessary. I have fallen deep down the twin rabbit holes of curbside pick-up and delivery. I don't want to be around people because I don't like being sick, and I feel what I believe to be a slightly paranoid truth that if I do contract COVID-19, it's going to kick my ass and I'll be lucky to walk away from it. 

The thing is, if you were to replace writing time with "school" work, this schedule wouldn't be so different from many days of my summer. The big difference would be the flexibility of knowing it was safe to be other places -- to meet someone at a restaurant for lunch, to go see a movie during the hottest part of the afternoon, to make a shopping trip out of needing only one or two things instead of collecting them on a list to minimize the number of times I have to use the pick-up lane at Target. 

It's true that being an off-the-charts introvert helps a LOT in situations like this. But the biggest misconception about introverts is that being one means a person is anti-social, and that isn't true. We appreciate being alone, and in a calm and quiet environment; we're at our best like this because it allows us to recharge. 

But man, what I wouldn't give to order a couple of pizzas and have some people over for a game night right about now. 

May 14: The Long and Complicated Origin Story of Following Infinity

It was the fall of 2002. The school year was only weeks old when my family got word that my younger sister, Erin, had been diagnosed with Stage IV lung cancer. The two years we had between her diagnosis and death was the most painful time of my life, but had also been filled with extraordinary love and beauty. During that time, I decided I was going to chronicle all that was happening. I don’t remember if I had planned to turn what I was working on into a memoir someday, but eventually I did. I called it TWO YEARS TO SAY GOODBYE. I was proud of what I came up with, but as with any piece of writing I had done much earlier in life (this was my mid-thirties, and I’m now a week away from turning fifty-two), it’s difficult to look at without picking apart how poorly written and self-indulgent it feels. Because of that, it’s probably never going to see the light of day. 

Around the same time, I had the idea rattling around that I also wanted to write a fictional counterpart to that real-life story. Since I was focused on writing for a middle grade audience, I thought about writing from the perspective of a character about the age of my nephews, all of whom were pre-teens or little boys when Erin died. The problem was finding a story to tell. 

Then I noticed this picture hanging up in my house. And I really thought about it.

From what I can tell, it’s a photograph. I don’t think it’s any special work of art; in fact, I once saw a copy of it stashed in a rack with other poster art at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. The picture had been the last Christmas gift Erin would ever give me. She included a note about how that scene had been her happy place, her point of focus when everything had become too much for her to deal with, and that she couldn’t imagine a more peaceful spot anywhere in the world. She found a copy of it and wanted me to have it. I referenced the picture and what it meant to her when I wrote her eulogy. It’s still hanging in my living room. I doubt most of the people who ever come to my house understand its true significance.

The thought came to me that if Erin had been given the chance to visit any spot in the world before beginning whatever journey she had ahead of her on the way to eternity, she definitely would have stopped by that lake and sat on that dock to take in the peace and quiet, just for a moment. It made perfect sense to me. 

From there, the story began to grow. 

Originally it was about a song. My main character, a boy of twelve years or so, kept hearing the same song pop up all the time. It was a favorite song of his recently deceased aunt and it referenced some city out in California. The boy was haunted by this until his grandfather agreed to take him out to that location on his motorcycle to see if they could find anything. A kid that age who lost his aunt, with a motorcycle-riding grandfather… the characterization and the situation were both too close. 

I tweaked things. Same main character, same age, but this time he had lost a much older cousin, college-aged, who had been something of a mentor to him. There was some place in Florida they had visited with their families years earlier, and a particular spot they’d seen that had led to the two of them having a significant moment of some kind. Things came together with the girlfriend of the cousin agreeing to bring our main character on a trip to visit this place, so he could reach some sense of closure.

Again, it didn’t work. I had taken four or five runs at trying to draft this, and it never found any traction. I put the idea in the story vault to maybe revisit again someday. It stayed there for years. 

Back in real life, there was a year I had a girl in my class, Kiana, who had a younger brother named Kyle who was very sick. He was only a first grader and had already gone through his own cancer battle. Everything about losing Erin was still very raw for me, and I felt a draw to this little guy. I would joke with him when I saw him in the hallways, and it didn’t take long before he started joking right back with me. Knowing him and knowing what he was going through led to me knowing his sister better, and from a perspective that I didn’t usually get to know my students. I became fairly close with both of them. 

Two years later, Kyle’s illness returned. He wasn’t able to be at school following some treatment he’d had, so arrangements were made for him to be tutored at home. I moved quickly to make sure I’d get the assignment.

I worked with him on and off for most of that school year, if I remember it right. I saw the good moments and the not so good ones, and I saw so much of Erin’s experience reflected in what he was going through. After school ended, I even had a day or two when I'd go over just to visit. We’d hang out in the basement and play video games. He’d apologize repeatedly for being so much better at them than I was. 

The last day of his life turned out to be only days on the calendar away from the last day of Erin’s. It was hard to ignore the parallels, and made the grief that came with losing her fresh again. The story I’d shelved years earlier crossed my mind, and it hit me: I had been trying to tell it wrong the whole time. I was trying to filter my grief through a character that was too similar to my nephews, so everything I tried to write was too close to our story. I had to take myself out of it if I was ever going to be able to create a fully-realized character. It was still my story, but it couldn’t be about me at all.

I saw that all along, the character never should have even been a boy. The only way I could build a character that wouldn’t have any trace of me would be to write about a young girl. And instead of making it an aunt or an uncle or a cousin, writing a girl would allow me to write about losing a sibling, and to be honest about the pain that came with that. I thought about Kiana and Kyle, and decided to make the lost sibling a younger brother, to mirror my losing a younger sister. The characters wouldn’t based on the two of them — I knew them fairly well for students, but not at the personal level where I could have done that even if I’d wanted to — but I did give my characters, Molly and Michael, names that started with the same letter, as a tiny tribute to the two of them and what they’d gone through.

Weeks after this realization, National Novel Writing Month started. I wrote the first draft of 54,000 words in a little over three weeks. I did a couple editing passes and thought it was perfect and ready for an agent. My query letter got some notice from a handful of agents, and even a full request, which was a turning point: It became the moment that convinced me I should keep writing when I was ready to give it up altogether. That agent passed though, and nothing happened to the manuscript for a long time, other than being passed around between family and friends. A few years later, a cousin told me about a contest that eventually led to me working with my agent, Carrie. When she loved everything about my story that I wanted people to love, I knew she was the right one. Then she had me rewrite most of it and basically add an entire second act that hadn’t been there, which it turned out to desperately need. Carrie has a frustrating habit of usually being right. 

So there it is. If you’ve read the manuscript and you’re one of the people hoping along with us to see it published someday, now you know where it came from (and that you can thank Carrie for most of part two even existing).

Since today, May 14th, is Erin’s birthday, I thought more people should know how all of this came together. Her biggest fear about dying was being forgotten. If (WHEN!) this manuscript becomes a book and sees the light of day, I hope that even if readers never know Erin as anyone other than maybe a name in the dedication, they’ll still somehow carry a part of who she was with them. 

May 13: 10-Word Movie Reviews of 10 Perfect 80s Movies

The 80s was a great decade for movies. So much of what was in the theaters was all about getting people, and their families, in the seats to laugh, scream, and buy large sodas and popcorn, back when the combined prices of these things didn’t rival monthly mortgage payments. There were some great creatives working at the time. The people who would later produce some of the best movies of the 90s and beyond were just beginning to really make names for themselves. 

Since the pandemic has shut down all of the fine movie houses across the land, and because I don’t believe I’ve seen a movie in a theater since the last Star Wars back during winter break,  In fact, even counting cable and streaming and whatever else you want to work into the equation, I can’t think of the last movie I saw for the first time. It probably goes all the way back to that Star Wars movie six months ago. Needless to say, I’m a little out of practice with writing my 10-Word Movie Reviews.

With all that in mind, I’ve made a list of what I consider to be ten perfect movies from the 1980s. When I say perfect, I mean movies  that were the kind of pure entertainment that would captivate you so completely during that first dreamlike viewing, you could easily forget who or where you were. 

With that in mind, here are my 10-Word Movie Reviews of ten perfect 80s movies. As always, in no particular order: 

Back to the Future: Masterfully-written comic adventure fantasy. Hits all its targets perfectly.

Raiders of the Lost Ark: A nonstop epic adventure, driven by an imperfect romantic hero.

Die Hard: An explosive surprise of action. Redefined the genre for decades.

The Goonies: The manifestation of the imagination kids use while playing outside.

The Breakfast Club: Best high school movie ever. Realistic, hopeful, but not condescending.

Poltergeist: Legitimately scary with minimal gore. Slowly unspools into terrifying fun. 

When Harry Met Sally: The rare intelligent romantic comedy that doesn’t make you sick.

Aliens: Departure from the original; more action than horror. Scary, thrilling.

Hoosiers: Pure inspiration. Powerfully quiet. Extraordinary use of setting and character. 

Ghostbusters: Scary and hilarious. Deserves comparison to a roller coaster ride. 

Did I forget any?