Day 1: The most sacred of times
Hi. Thirty-three days ago, we started counting down to today mostly because Michelle Obama once said you can do anything for 33 days. And you know what? She was right!
We don’t know how many more days we’ll be going through all this, but I hope this project has been a tiny reminder that none of us is in this alone.
If you’d like to look back at past entries of Social Social Distance Club, find them here. If you’re not yet subscribed to my long-standing weekly newsletter and want to, you can sign up here.
A few last contributions from folks below—thanks again to everyone who wrote in. Be well, everyone.
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C. in South Carolina had a bad storm that knocked out their power, making it difficult for C. and their partner to do their work of teaching online—among other things:
With the outage Monday, my immediate concern was that I wouldn't be able to listen to my lifeline, the internet radio station Uncertain Times, run by TJ Connelly, who used to be the DJ for the Red Sox, the Bruins, and the Patriots, and so now sits at home unemployed while his partner is a nurse practitioner in a field hospital tent serving people experiencing homelessness. Like a good Gen Xer, he started the station in his basement, Pump Up the Volume style, and set up a Patreon to pay for not only rent and iced coffee, but licensing fees to ASCAP and BMI and so on. There's also a Slack channel that makes me feel like it's blogging in 2003. Last Friday's show devolved into a big dumb dance party, with the sort of music you can't not couch dance to. It was the happiest I've been in ages, and he's gonna do it every Friday. Y'all come, too. uncertain.fm
From Fabien H:
My brother is in Los Angeles, my parents in France, and I am quarantined at my in-laws with wife and baby in the middle-east. The situation is to say the least quite unusual. We are lucky to be a little bit away from the center, with a garden. I am accumulating a 36-day streak on Duolingo in a language the has a different alphabet system! The best part of the day? When I three-way skype my brother and parents to show them how their grandchild/niece is growing up.
A good idea from Annie D.:
My friends and I have been taking turns vlogging our days in the group chat, as if we were Instagram influencers or famous YouTubers. It’s been a great way to fill time and gives me a lot to look forward to each day! We demonstrate our skin care routines, show off our lunches and OOTDs, and take each other on neighbourhood walks. It’s also allowed us to share the more difficult moments of this experience and express our fears and anxieties with honesty and vulnerability. This ritual has provided a window into both the mundane and the profound aspects of our lives, bringing us all closer together. Highly recommend trying it with your family or friends.
A tip from Jen B.:
I’ve been adding fresh flowers to my grocery orders whenever I can, and it’s been SO nice to have them around. Often the cheapest ones are the most long lasting, like these chamomile babies, which lasted for at least 10 days and only cost $5:
My favorites so far have been this adorable spray of nasturtiums and rosemary that my friend Arianna brought me from her backyard when she came by for a socially distanced hello:
Flowers felt like an extravagance at first, but as my friend Lauren said, “when else would you get to look at then 24/7?” They are a much-needed small pleasure.
What Lisa M. will do when this is all over:
When this is all over I'm going to rush to do the little things I took for granted. Like coming home on the bus and stopping at the shop to get dinner on the way. Like stopping to say hello to people who aren't really my friends but who I see every day and whose smiles and words make my life feel full. But I want to do the big things too. I want to visit my cousins in New York and wake up early with jet lag and go to Russ and Daughters. I want to bite into a bagel and really feel the crunch on the outside and the warm softness of the middle. And I want to walk all day in the city I love and then slightly exhausted and sunburnt I want to get on the Staten Island Ferry back to my family's apartment. And drink a cold beer from a brown paper bag as I watch the sunset and marvel at the pink sky bouncing off the buildings, making them glitter. Thinking about these things give me hope.
Finally: Early on in this project, I shared part of Lynn Ungar’s poem “Pandemic” via Eve M. and Erin Z.S. reminded me of it last week. Feels like a good note to end on.
What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.
And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.
Promise this world your love—
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.
That’s a wrap for Social Social Distance Club. Thanks again for being part of this. 🌸