2020 is a hard year to put in to words. The pandemic, the orange haired man, Black lives matter and weather events bringing their own mayhem through wind, water and fire- there is no shortage of abject pain and hardship. Living in my suburban bubble at the age of 68 and holding tight to a restricted universe in the hope of not catching Covid-19- life has different quantifiers than before. Are you loved ones Covid-free? Do they possess antibodies or better yet will they be vaccinated sooner rather than later? Will my young adult offspring continue to use good sense and practice social distancing with the requisite face mask and hand washing? Will the economy revive so that many of our fellow Americans- naturalized, native. green carded or living with the ever present fear of deportation- will their well being be restored when their means of employment return? Will a new president with a more humane agenda bring the decency, compassion and global vision so desperately needed?
It's easy to wake up fretful in the night. I have never felt such anxiety on an ongoing basis. Yet there is much to hope for and in that vein, there is the call to action to stay steadfast, to ignore bullies and their angry followers, to stay clear eyed for my kids so that I may be the rock that they depend on and may I persevere to be my own rock as we forge ahead.
Wishing you all health, peace, happiness and success in 2021. With that I'll sign off for now.
and the vintage image of me, I hope, says it all.
