This blog has no pre-determined plot arc. When my school shut down five months ago, I decided to blog about my COVID-19 experience. I didn't know how the weeks would unfold. I have simply tried to capture what I am experiencing during a time of isolation and uncertainty.
As it turned out, my parents dropped into my lap/life only a few days after my school shuttered for what turned out to be the rest of the year. For most of spring and summer, this blog space was dominated by their care, their quirks, their struggles, and the unexpected joy of rebuilding our previously strained relationship.
This week, while they've been quarantined back at Friendship Haven, I've ZOOMed in to play Bridge, and have talked to them daily. Sunday I logged them onto Facebook for church, then ZOOMed again in the evening to set them up to watch "The Music Man" on Youtube.
Each time I talk to them, their voices surge with what I can only call love. They keep telling me how much they liked living here, how lovely the farm was, how NICE they found their time with me to be.
They sound homesick.
I'm homesick too.
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If I am to stay true to my purpose of recording my experience during COVID-19, I cannot ignore what is happing now in my community. My intent is not to blame or exacerbate the difficulty.
But to glaze over what is unfolding in Atlantic would be to abandon my effort to record this experience. So here I go:
On Friday 9 new COVID cases were reported in Cass County. Saturday added another 12. Previously, the highest number recorded in a single day was four. Our total is now 74. Sixty-five percent of our cases have been in people under 40.
Sunday morning I learned that our school's volleyball program has suspended activities for the next 11 days "in following Return to Learn plans and recommendation of Public Health."
Then at noon, I received an email from one of our school administrators, explaining that she and a family member had tested positive for the virus. I commend her openness. COVID, like any health issue, deserves the privacy an affected person requests. But her willingness to tell the community of her diagnosis, and to work with Public Health to track those who've had contact with her, shows a public-service attitude.
As the day unfolded, so did the back story: Atlantic is experiencing a swell in cases in our young people--and by extension, their families.
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This afternoon I told Dan that I planned to contact (again) our school board members and administrators and ask for a masking mandate; or if not that, at least a masking-in-the-hallways requirement; or if not that, at the very least allow teachers to set mask expectations in their own classrooms.
My husband, meeker than I, suggested I hold off. He thinks all schools will be teaching online by October.
What are we hoping for here? That our situation will become dire enough to send us home where we can be safe?
Three of my children have told me bluntly that they don't think I should teach this year.
Oh my.
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I must not close this post without acknowledging my gratefulness for an otherwise beautiful Sunday.
I ran on the trail.
I ate farmers'-market tomatoes.
I kayaked on the farm pond.
I played the accordion.
Harrison and I won a $20 gift certificate to Milk and Honey in Harlan for placing in the top three at an online trivia night political fundraiser.
Enough.
Be well.
Write.
Allison
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| Life is good. |
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