QUARANTINE LIFE: TELEVISION

 

QUARANTINE LIFE: ART

 

QUARANTINE LIFE : FRIDAY THOUGHTS

I was born in Louisiana. I know heat and humidity…Charleston gave me a dose of its brand of heat last week (on my first trip out of state since January 2020). Very impressive.

Lately, Maryland seems like it’s trying to show off its southern side.

I hadn’t opened the windows when I returned home last Sunday because of the air quality due to the wildfire smoke from Canada. I turned on the AC last Monday. By Tuesday, I hadn’t noticed it was M.I.A. 

I’d been painting every day and was underneath the ceiling fan. On the days when it rained, I turned off the unit, and enjoyed the freshened air. I hadn’t been doing any cooking; opting for salads and DoorDash. I’m not sure when it occurred to me that nothing was blowing from the vents.

It was hot outside this past Monday. I ran an errand. When I came back home I realized just how comfortable the car ride had been.The heat hit me. The ceiling fans were just circulating hot air. 

I remembered summers in Louisiana. Every aunt’s neck was adorned with a towel, and I was amazed at how they’d whip it back and forth to fan their faces. They dabbed— never wiped. 

I remembered box fans turned backwards in windows to draw the hot air out. Every shotgun house was cool. I’m still amazed by that.

I was doing fine…I could almost heard my grandmother say, “Just sit still, Baby”.  I concentrated on my painting. A sistah shouldn’t be sweating when she’s just sitting. I went to the thermostat. It read 85 degrees. 

I heeded my grandmother’s words…made myself a giant glass of ice water…and called Belair Engineering — ‘cause that’s who my Dad used to call. 

The elders never stop teaching, even after they’re gone. 

The technician arrived as promised, and quickly assessed the problem…and the cost wasn’t of the leeching variety that had devoured my stimulus check when the blower went on the fritz exactly 3 years ago.

AC’s running again. The number on the thermostat is slowly decreasing from the sweltering 86 that greeted me this morning. 

Thank you baby, teenaged, adult, and resurrected Jesus.

…and now, I hear thunder.

The rain is going to do its cooling, cleansing thing, (because of course that’s what happens when you get the AC fixed). 

Who knows. Maybe the rain will also deter folks and their bombs bursting in air, who think it’s still the 4th of July.

QUARANTINE LIFE: FRIDAY THOUGHTS

It’s the living who hear what is said to, and about the dead. 

Sometimes death, and the things people say about the deceased reveal a lot of unfiltered truth. It can be touching, encouraging, even funny to hear people’s tributes. Sometimes, though, you feel it’s best that the deceased never knew what actual role they played in the lives of others.

So THAT’S all they were to you? THAT’S why all heaven and earth were admonished to pray, fast, and rend their garments for the sick? Do we only want people to get well so that OUR agendas, plans, schedules, coins, and shows won’t be impacted?

Did/doesthe star of your show know that’s all they were/are?

It’s interesting how people appear to be more valuable in death than in life; how their body of work becomes a mine; a source of capital and wealth for those who didn’t have the talent, nor did they put in the effort.

It’s sad that people have to die to finally be free of the users, control freaks, leeches, manipulators, narcissists, and otherwise questionable and unhealthy relationships in their lives. 

Does your humanity matter less than your talent or resources? Do you know who you are? Do you care? Do you know what you boil down to in the lives of others? Is it YOU they love, need, want, and adore, or what you do, and how you enrich THEM? 

Are you someone’s nurse, purse, meal ticket, main attraction, punching bag, Mister or Miss Fix-it? Are you the glue, the party planner, the bank, free counsel, hotel, bail bondsman, punchline, cook, transportation, organizer, babysitter, storage facility, footstool, savior, or the coattail upon which they ride? 

When you’re sick, is the emphasis on your restored health for your sake, or for you to get back to work to benefit others?

What truth does your absence reveal? Is it only in your absence that what you brought to the table is fully realized? Are you indispensable? Are you quickly and unceremoniously replaced when you can’t deliver, or say “no”? 

Is the search on to find your doppelgänger? Whose green eyes have been eyeballing your job, spot, or position for eons, and just waiting for their feet to fill your shoes? Who’s lining up, scheming, scraping, scratching, and schmoozing to take your place?

Who’s working you to death, and cheering on, and admonishing you to press through your exhaustion? Why are you complying? Do you feel obligated or without choice? 

How long after you close your eyes will the talk be about the continuation of the show, how much you sacrificed, and gave it all for everyone else—while ignoring your own wellbeing?

QUARANTINE LIFE: TODAY

 

Timing is amazing. 

The simplest decisions can put you in places you want, need, or regret to be. 

I saw a lot of good things today. I usually do each time I choose to venture out. 

I hated what I saw as I headed home.

I’d just left a funeral at Spirit of Faith Christian Center. The minister had talked about the fragility of lives, the surety of death, and the eternal nature of our being. 

A bereaved father admonished his grandchildren to know and love one another, and to the men who were fathers among them, he said, “Be there for your children”.

At about 1:10, I was sitting at the light at Naylor Road and Suitland Parkway. I noticed a group of people waiting to cross the street. All of a sudden I heard a noise, and saw a body flung up into the air like a rag doll. I covered my eyes and began to cry, I couldn’t believe what I’d seen. When I opened my eyes, the car ahead of me had moved and I saw a young man lying motionless in the street. Several people got out of their vehicles, phones in hand. Someone yelled, “A ambulance is on the way!”

People behind me in the left lane were honking their horns, but I couldn’t move. I didn’t think anyone should. I was trying to figure out what happened. How could a scene go from sunny and jovial to tragic and heart wrenching? A young woman who’d been with the victim was pacing in circles and screaming over and over, “Oh my God! Oh my God!” 

Everything stopped. I don’t know how many times I ignored the green light that gave me right of way to make a left onto Suitland Parkway. My eyes were on the young man, and the gentleman who was leaning over his body, and comforting him. 

Finally, traffic around the scene began to slowly move, and an unmarked police vehicle pulled up. Traffic on Naylor Road had to merge into the right lane, then go left. Although the striking vehicle was headed toward DC, the scene impeded drivers heading toward Maryland. When I was able to move, I noticed the shattered windshield of the striking car. 

I was among only a few cars as I headed down the parkway toward Forestville Road. The cars headed toward the scene would soon be slowed. There was no traffic in front of me. Those traveling in my direction sped past me. I looked to my left again, and Suitland Parkway, inbound, was becoming a parking lot.

I pray for the young man, those who were with him, those who stopped to help, and his family who will undoubtedly be receiving distressing news.

QUARANTINE LIFE: DETAILS