My year of the Coronavirus Covid-19 quarantine, work-site shut-down, social distancing, staying home, working from home, applying for Payroll Protection Plan, not flying, not visiting grandkids in New York, not visiting my 89-year-old mom, not going to my sisters week at the beach, wearing my face mask, using hand sanitizer, taking my vitamins, walking and hiking every day, collecting golf balls, competing with my husband who gets the most, starting a beehive, getting stung by a bee or two or three, appreciating the bee-sting therapy, reading all the how-to information on bees, realizing there is no set method, growing microgreens, and herbs, moving my large bonsai trees indoors as temperatures drop, collecting fall leaves, being thankful for some of the benefits and blessings that sifted out from all of this.
I’ve always been aware of germs, bacteria, viruses, and the ease with which people pass these things along. It’s one of the perks of having majored in biochemistry. Way back, I followed Adelle Davis, guru scientist of nutrition. When I was 17, a senior in high school, I came down with the dreaded mononucleosis. They called it the kissing disease. It was 1971. I took the ACT college entrance exam on the day my sore throat escalated to more than discomfort. I had to stop going to school, and for the entire semester, my teachers taught me at home. Really, I recall two of them sitting with me at the dining table, teaching me math. How awkward was that? I’m not like my youngest son, who can talk to teachers and professors like they’re good old friends.
When I was in grade school, my kindergarten teacher and my second-grade teacher shamed me for stupid things, like dropping my seashell that I had planned to share or raising my hand to go to the bathroom. I learned to sit quietly and keep my mouth shut. One time in kindergarten, during recess, I stepped in doggie doo-doo – dog poop. I was so embarrassed that I just sat at my little desk, hoping no one could smell the dog doo under the table on my shoe, waiting to go home where I would find a stick in the backyard and scrape that smelly shit off my shoe.
Yea, well, anyway, I became sick and tired of being sick and tired, lying on the sofa watching the AM Los Angeles Morning TV show with Ralph Story and Stephanie Edwards. I became interested in nutrition that senior year of high school and began reading books about health. I began to take vitamins and a concoction of grapefruit juice and brewer’s yeast every morning. It was nasty stuff, and I held my nose and drank it down. But finally, I began to feel better. I became a believer in nutrition.
One of the blessings of Covid-19 for me has been the general acceptance of how viruses spread. I’m ok wearing a mask; I have long been using hand sanitizer. People sometimes thought I was a germ-a-phobe because I was aware, cautious, and took ashwagandha and echinacea. I understand that germs, bacteria, and viruses are always looking for the next host. And they pass to the next victim through coughs and handshakes and touched surfaces.
When my kids were young, I dreaded going to church because two days later, every Tuesday, one of my kids or I would be sick. And then it passed through the family, and I was battling a cold every month with sick kids to-boot. It was exhausting. People would come to church sick, shake your hand, drop their kids off in your classroom sick, take them to the nursery sick, sit beside you and cough, announce that they were sick but had to speak in church, etc. Or your visiting teacher would show up on your front door and bring all her snotty nose kids in to play with your kids while she delivered her message.
One time, back in the 1990s, I told brother Sorrenson that I was not too fond of shaking hands, as it was unsanitary. Well, he gave me quite the look of disapproval, and to tell you the truth, I am surprised I said that. Anyway, I’m glad that I don’t have to sit in church next to someone sick and should have stayed home. So, I’m thankful for that. I have my Willy Wonka Golden ticket to stay home. Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not advocating for not helping someone who is sick. I’ve always appreciated a meal, a note, or a blessing. And I am glad to do the same for someone else. I’m just glad that I no longer look like the nutty nutrition germ wary woman. And it’s ok to be an introvert.
I’m thankful that my mom has survived the closed-in life. Not sure when I can see my mom or bring her up to stay with me and see her grandkids. That is a tough one. I’m in Utah, and it has become a hot spot now. I think it happened when 60,000 students arrived from all over to attend colleges in Provo and Orem. And this mentality that masks are taking away their freedoms, or it is just a political prank. Thank goodness I don’t live on the Wasatch Front — it’s way too populated for me. It feels like California, with traffic and congestion, but not as nice as California weather. I prefer a small-town feel.
I’m super happy and relieved that my two daughters-in-law safely delivered baby girls during the quarantine crisis — one grandbaby in New York and one in Washington. We had to cancel our trips to visit both families, but we finally drove to Washington to see my son and his family. Unfortunately, we have not made it to New York to see my other son and new addition. Still trying to plan that.
The Payroll Protection Plan was a blessing for us since our company is very small, and we depend on grants for our research. Being off-site has been difficult to complete the work — we lease our site at UCRiverside in California. We actually had to do some testing of pulse detonation at my daughter’s house over the fourth of July — loud noises to blend in with the fireworks. But still, we always notify the police of the sound issues—no need to call out the SWAT team. We were careful not to be too loud this time, and yes, someone reported gunshot sounds. I’m thankful for California’s push for new energy. They have been optimistic and eager to fund grants for renewable natural gas and electricity. Even California has something good.
The bees. Yes, I thought it would be cool to get some bees, so we picked up our first nuc of bees in May. Now I have insects for pets, and I feel concerned for their livelihood when wasps try to get into their hive, steal their hard-earned honey, and when the weather becomes 27 degrees at night. I’ve read about varroa mites and how to treat them, counting their little dead bodies on the bottom sticky board under the hive. I’ve left almost all the honey for the bees because they’ll need about 100 lbs for the winter, or they will not survive. I’ve sat by the hive and watched their daily rituals, fascinated by how hard these female bees work and how they throw out the male drones before winter because they don’t work — and the queen has already mated for life before I even purchased her with the nuc of bees. So yes, I’m thankful I had time and money to start this new bee hobby. I hope they survive.
I became aware of how crazy the world can become –that we can run out of toilet paper and Clorox disinfecting wipes and hand sanitizer. I’m thankful I had enough stored, and I realized that I should upgrade my food storage program. I opened my 35-year-old wheat pails and since they would not sprout, we feed it to the birds, chipmunks, and chickens. Then I bought some new wheat and oatmeal and rice and grits. I decided I better buy some water barrels since I had not kept mine when I moved. I cleaned the garage. I got water barrels for all my married kids – so their families would be prepared. Sent them some freeze-dried food.
And golf balls, yes, for some reason, we started to spot lost golf balls on our hikes by the golf course. It has become a game, like finding Easter eggs — especially when you get a bright yellow one or blue or orange or pink or even silver metallic. And somehow the competition began, who got the most, the best color. And our kids think we’re crazy until they play the game and find their first golf ball. So, yes, I’m thankful for silly fun games. I hope you can find something good in this year as well.
