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Author Archives: kayewer

• Masks of the (D)re(a)d Death

  Posted at 5:00 pm by kayewer, on May 23, 2020

  Are you masked up for reopening the country? I am. I have a few masks, and a few have stories behind them. Naturally I admire the people who have broken out the sewing machines and made ten or ten gazillion masks for people, but my crafting projects have been sort of sketchy right now (I have a total of eight needle felting creatures in various stages of unfinished, and another afghan–yes, couldn’t stop crocheting–almost completed), so I made do and improvised a bit.

  My office had packs of masks and gloves ready to hand out to staff in the last week we were there. Rather than hand out to each desk, they put them in bins in the lobby. I didn’t realize there were three to a pack, and I had grabbed an extra just in case somebody in my office missed the bus. Those packs went like emergency rations at zero hour, and an admin is expected to always be the go-to for just about everything, so I felt ready.

  Since in the end I wound up being one of the last ones out of the building, I took both packs home with me. The extra pack ultimately went into the hands of a local police officer who had dropped by our block for something; I told him I didn’t need the extras, but they and the EMT staff might.

  When I broke the seal of the first N-95 mask of the remaining pack and put it on to go shopping, one elastic broke. Well, I figured, at least I would know mine on sight. A good Girl Scout knot job later, and I was on my way.

  Having saved the remaining masks in the pack for however long the pandemic might last, I decided to try improvising an extra or two via YouTube videos. The t-shirt idea was a good one, but as I was looking in my pile of tees I realized I had a pair of underwear that looked rather more appealing. In fact, the waistband was better fitting, so I hacked off the lower half containing the crotch and used the elastic leg bands to cobble together the ties for the back, gathering them at the side seams for a comfy fit.

  I placed another order for two masks, but they’re on back order; a third, a gaiter, arrived this week, and I love it. It’s like having a turtleneck that is cool in the summer. With sixty degrees being the average temperature outside in our slow end to a fake spring, I have not had a chance to see how cool I will remain with my breathing filtered through it, but it’s easy to keep on and pull up when “masking up” to enter a store,

  Our office has provided guidelines for when to mask up when we return to the office, and fortunately I have a desk separated from the department and can breathe uninhibited air until I have to go into the corridors where others may cross my path. Since we are also instituting one-way transit in hallways, I don’t know how often that will actually happen; it may be comical to see various face coverings flipping up and down as people come and go everywhere.

  Whatever your mask might be, remember that it will probably be temporary for now, but don’t toss them. They may still become useful in the fall and winter as flu makes a return engagement worldwide. Think of them as a strange new fashion trend.

  Go check for some repurposed underwear.

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• Parole Bored

  Posted at 2:29 am by kayewer, on May 17, 2020

  At work, our CEO and corporate staff set some reopening dates for our buildings, which have been shut down since March. My building will open in July.

  So there is now a target date, but why don’t I feel any better?

  The 100-year pestilence (which came two years late) has left us uncertain about the future of normal life. The 1818 Spanish Flu culled the herd drastically and tragically, and what some misinformed people have called “Chinese Flu” is slated to decimate the world population again, indiscriminately killing and biologically wreaking havoc in young and old, invisibly and with blinding speed. So right now we can’t even be close to each other. Social (actually physical) distancing is not enforceable, so one leaves the home at their own risk.

  Over these weeks in quarantine, I have seen George Carlin’s rant about how over-clean we are: heck, he says, he swam as a child in the Hudson River, the New York equivalent of bathing in the Ganges (if I can dare make such a comparison by stressing that some notorious public waterways just cannot be considered anywhere near healthy to use in any form), while videos elsewhere stress extreme clean at every moment.

  Some things can’t be avoided. Germs are one gazillion of them. The India bathers and users of the Ganges don’t get sick, because they are exposed to germs native to their habitat. If a traveler had not gone out of China with the virus in tow, knowingly or not, the pandemic would not have been spread to people unprepared for exposure to it.

  Since so many in China got sick, the virus was probably not native to China, so the search has to go elsewhere in hope of finding treatment and a vaccine.

  Meanwhile, dissidents go mask-less among us, saying it is their right.

  I thought murder by proxy would still be murder.

  I’m a bit nervous about going back to work, but faith in the process of overcoming new diseases helps, and if everybody does what they must to keep us safe, we can get back to normal someday.

  You just need to aim well and be smart to hit a target.

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• Momories

  Posted at 2:53 am by kayewer, on May 10, 2020

  Mother’s Day may not mean the same for everybody. Some people have no mother now (or never did), or those still living have fallen into the hellish tunnel of age-related mental decline and would not know one thing from another. Like many holidays, this is just one more that is the cause for dread. So many people have lost mothers to the pandemic this year, or won’t get to hug a mother because of distance restrictions, some years it might be a good idea to remember only as much as one can bear.

  Those of us with issues have trouble explaining it to those who don’t. We all see pictures of June Cleaver perfect ladies with happily clean children and an admiring spouse, but women who have given birth to children may not all fit that mold. Our revolving standards of parenthood make it hard to appreciate every mother out there, especially if they have not been good enough human beings in the first place. Not every mother earns flowers, a card or dinner.

  However, once we are separated from the link the womb provides, we are truly at the mercy of our world and what we do to affect what children experience in it. Whether a mother (or a surrogate) coddles or curses, we ultimately make the decisions that build our character. Often mothers do have a positive influence on children, if only to send us in the opposite direction, and we can celebrate that.

  Those who had less-than-good parentage, maybe it’s good to just know who and what you are, and a woman began that journey for you.

  If a mother is in failing health, remember that she had the health needed to do what brought you to this world. Moments matter, and when they stop mattering, they become part of your memories.

  It’s bittersweet, but the sweet is in there if we look for it. Here’s to mothers.

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• Lifting the Veil

  Posted at 1:56 am by kayewer, on May 3, 2020

  Mr. Softee came yesterday; it was really Ms. Softee, but a sign that not only had decent spring weather finally arrived–having waited until the month of May to do so–but the pandemic was far enough along that ice cream trucks can resume operations. A sign on the side of the vehicle assured visitors that employees would be tested for high temperature and sent home if they appear sick before starting their shift, along with the usual guidelines and precautions for the staff and visitors alike.

  When I got my vanilla cone (a mechanical problem deprived them of chocolate), I could not see the smile behind the mask, but I knew it was there. She was glad to be back at work, and I was happy to have her back. I smiled behind my mask, and I think we both got it.

  The experience of the ice cream truck was a light after days of dreary weather and anxiety about when things would begin to get back to normal. Though the state is still awaiting better hospitalization and death figures, soon it will be time for cautious adventures outside of home again. Open air recreation seems to be the priority, followed by limited crowd control in restaurants and such. A friend of mine is a librarian, so I know she has been out of work for a month and hope for good news there soon.

  So far I have been deprived of seven in-person writers group meetings, two musicals in Philadelphia, one movie on hold, and an opera in New York.  Who knows if we will ever feel totally comfortable sitting in a theater or large sports venue again? Some studies say it will be two years before we can call this virus over (if not eradicated), and we cannot be sure how summer will alter the spread or containment.

  The best we can do is adjust ourselves to be less contagious. Those of us who practice good hygiene should continue, and those with questionable habits should get with the program. There is no excuse not to wash hands or carry a tissue. Since toilet paper is reappearing on store shelves, that is not an excuse, either.

  We often live our lives by what we see. We could not see this virus’ affect on our lives, but we should all be over our ignorance now, and be ready to see some pleasant things.

  Like ice cream trucks.

   

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• De Story of De Clutter

  Posted at 1:48 am by kayewer, on April 26, 2020

  Getting rid of clutter is the new workout for everybody staying at home, and whether your guidance comes from Marie Kondo or an overstuffed condo, the act of tackling a pile of stuff guarantees calorie burn and muscle flexing, not to mention new space in which to put more stuff once we start shopping in actual stores again.

  I tackled a pile of shoe boxes this week. Why was there a pile of shoe boxes? Because there are two generations in my home: one of the mind that there is a replacement for things, and the other that you never know when you’ll need a good box. When it was over, I had broken down over 20 boxes and found several feet of space, as well as an alarm clock I had considered missing in action for two years. Turns out it was hiding under boxes 12 through 14.

  Those boxes were nearly impossible to break down without taking scissors to the corners first. Whatever was done to shore them up for all-purpose handling, it must have been some super strong heavy duty kryptonite reinforced cardboard, or else I’ve become a meek milquetoast at my age. No, can’t be, since I can lug around trash bags weighing as much as the local fourth grader.  Of course, the only problem with having finished this task is I no longer have the boxes to do a second workout. The reward is the calories burned and the space obtained. Plus an extra clock.

  Along with the boxes, I found about a hundred plastic shopping bags. You never know when you might need a bag, or 100. Herding bags requires checking each one to make sure there is no receipt inside, which would give away not only what you bought, but how many years ago it was. Admittedly some of the store names are of ghosts of businesses past. I think there was a Walden books in there. At least a book wasn’t in with it.

  Of course you can’t put plastic bags out with the trash, nor can you put out shredded paper. My current dilemma involves the tissue paper which came out of those 20 shoe boxes. Is tissue paper recycled, or landfill fodder? The local website is not helping much, because the answer is hidden at the end of a video game-like quest of clicking around for a length of time I don’t normally have.

  At least I know I can bundle the shoe boxes with the newspapers and cardboard for pickup, and the local supermarket will take the plastic bags. Maybe by trash day I’ll have figured the tissue paper out. I’d reuse it the next time I need a good box, but it has the name of the shoe manufacturer on it.

  Unless I’m giving shoes as a present, in another box, it’s going out. And yes, I thanked them for their service before letting go. Marie Kondo would be proud of me.

   

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• Captive

  Posted at 1:55 am by kayewer, on April 19, 2020

  Going out is harder these days than being home, mostly because the shutdown has extended from the entrances to stores to the collective brains of the occupants. Being home has given us the opportunity to see the flaws in the world outside, and just what it does take to keep, as Mike Rowe of Dirty Jobs so aptly put it, the civilized world work.

  The ATM forced $50 bills on me. Again. The touch screen is supposed to give you the opportunity to get fives, tens, twenties or fifties, but nothing I tried produced the result I wanted. I had to settle for an item of currency nobody likes to toy with. Hey, at least it isn’t faked as often as twenties. Some banks I use only have drive-through services today. It’s a bit odd arguing about the flaws of an ATM with somebody 100 feet away behind plate glass. Fortunately I was able to break the fifties.

  I hit five stores before I found a bottle of ammonia at Walmart. Fortunately Target obliterated its cart fort in front of the store I go to, but some places still use directional crowd control, such as at Wegman’s. I gave up the idea of going there because the line of people in the queue was about an hour’s worth of waiting at minimum.

  At least I did see toilet paper in stores, though other shelves continued to be nearly empty. I did manage to score my peanut butter and milk, too.

  Leaving the house seems lately as if we are still captive, but in a bigger bubble with limited options, but enough to get you through the week. Back at home I have supplies enough to survive until the economy gets back to normal, and I have faith that essentials will still be on hand, because dedicated workers on those essentials are still out there making sure the shelves are stocked.

  Plus, I did some cleaning, so I have empty shelves if they need more room.

   

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• The Fickle Home Space

  Posted at 1:39 am by kayewer, on April 12, 2020

  I wouldn’t say I was a conscientious cleaner, but we have all discovered how much cleaning we need to do now that we are spending so much time at home. Within a week, I’ve run out of wipes, and I’m sure the stores are out of them, too. Fortunately the wipes for the furniture can still be handled with the original cleaner I have in the cans which I forsook when I discovered the wipes.

  We are fickle enough to go for the next big thing, but the old standbys are always there when we need them.

  Yesterday I decluttered part of my bedroom, but my efforts have caused a new problem, because it involved shredding and our trash crew won’t take shredded paper. I used to be able to take it to the office and combine it with what I shredded there, but it looks like I may not see my actual office until maybe after Memorial Day.

  The waste management crew are fickle, too, so the shredding will remain in a designated spot, unwanted by all. I also discovered that the waste collectors favor some homes over others, as I watched them bowl recycle buckets into the gutters for all houses except one, for which they returned them to the curb. Yup, they’re fickle.

  This past week I tried some new foods in the kitchen: lo mein and quinoa. They both went over well, but since I only got one of each, we won’t see them again until there is more room in the pantry.

  The african violet I brought home from the office became too top heavy and keeled over, and I discovered I don’t have any potting soil, so sometime this coming week I’ll discover the joys of curbside pickup at the local hardware store for one bag of potting soil.

  At least the plant will be happy.

  My hair is growing out like everybody else’s. Stylists are advising against home jobs because nobody will be around to fix mistakes. However, Bob Ross, the late painter of happy landscapes and teacher for the beginning artist, always talked about happy accidents, so maybe a color error will become the new trend once we’re out and about again. One thing I won’t do is cut or color my hair. I’m fickle, and am embracing the hair for my age the way it is.

  I don’t know about some parts of the country, but our local networks have been giving regular reports on hospital admissions, deaths and other statistics, and networks like ABC have a daily program about the pandemic. While I’m working from home and trying to iron out the fine lines between my work space and home space, figures coming from the television don’t penetrate the brain like the figures I report on during work. Concentrating on the immediate environment has become necessary, and it’s keeping me more grounded than any special reporting can.

  It’s not being fickle: it’s about being pragmatic about where we are and what needs to be done, one item at a time.

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• The Marvel of Foresight

  Posted at 1:50 am by kayewer, on April 5, 2020

  We don’t need Earth Day this year to see what an effect our worldwide quarantine has been having on our planet. The web is crammed full of footage in which animals have ventured into our realm, visiting our empty suburban streets without fear. Waterways in Venice have cleared as never before in modern memory, because tourists aren’t polluting them. Nitrogen dioxide pollution has significantly decreased, as proven by satellite images. In New York City, CO2 emissions fell ten percent because of decreased vehicle traffic. Greenhouse gasses in general decrease when there are recessions.

  Last year movie fans went to see Avengers: Endgame, which in hindsight appears to be spot on in predicting what is happening to us now. The movie picked up five years after half the world (and galactic) population was wiped out by a misguided megalomaniac with an agenda to “correct” the balance of the universe. A piece of good news shared among two of the remaining Avengers was that whales were returning to oceans they had abandoned decades ago, and overall the water was more pure.

  The decrease in the active population has reduced the waste we discard voluntarily and involuntarily. By involuntary, we are talking about our hair and skin shedding into the open air, and voluntary speaks of the contemptuous way in which we handle our casual waste such as trash.

  One afternoon a few years ago, I caught sight of a young woman who had just left a Wawa and purchased a large beverage in a disposable cup. She took a big swig and then dropped the cup and remaining drink on the pavement. The contempt was enough to make my eyes burn at the sight of it, not to mention the waste of money and the lawn having to absorb foreign matter and the trash crew who need to pick up after her.

  During our lengthy stay at home, we will witness all our bad habits where we can’t hide it from anybody. Once freed, though, how likely are we to resume old habits?

  It is our ignorance of the true world around us that led us to this catastrophe. Casual disregard for how we create, use and dispose of our containers; how we purchase, prepare and discard food; what we do with our overabundance of stuff which we feel is a testament to material wealth; all will lead us to a brighter or bleaker future. It depends upon us to think about what we’ve done before, and what we can change now.

  I always wondered why we could not take our common-use plastics such as our Tide bottles back to the grocer and have the distributor pick them up and have them shipped back to the parent company–in this case, Proctor & Gamble–for cleansing and recycling.

  Why can’t we go back to wearing dress or casual gloves?

  Why can’t we design an edible container for our fast food?

  Why is spitting in public spaces tolerated in America?

  Why do people think they can leave a public space littered with their trash?

  Why does everybody say “NIMBY*” but never stops to think that trash must be taken somewhere?

  Why do we have products we can’t destroy or recycle?

  We made such a simple transition from glass and aluminum to plastics and foam. Why can’t we just go back to what worked before?

  We can return to our lives, and the whales may still come back. If we do it right.

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• Going Home

  Posted at 2:36 am by kayewer, on March 29, 2020

  Workplaces are shuttered, so over the past couple of weeks workers have been sent home to either work from there or count the days until we can return to the daily grind. I am one of the former.

  Our building was supporting some people who were trying to stay in the office until restrictions forced them out. Not everybody could get decent Internet at home, especially when they are out in the far reaches of signal strength.  They’re struggling to catch up, hoping that modern equipment will enable them to connect.

  I will find out on Monday if I can get a better hookup. My broadband is serving, but a permanent solution may come by then. It will involve a heftier monthly bill and a couple of hours of installment time, but it may be worth it in the end to be able to just take my work computer home and relax once in awhile.

  I prefer during blizzards, though, not a life-threatening virus.

  Many people are having to adjust to working from home. They have family and pets who may not fully understand how to give some personal space. Also, being home brings distractions like the laundry you’re used to doing on evenings and weekends but now beckons from the full basket and demands you spend your break time pre-treating spots.

  There has been an increase in shift and top orders online due to working from home. It would be interesting to have a video conference call in which everybody is asked to stand up: they’re probably all in their underwear. It worked for Tom Cruise once, but most of us should still wear pants.

  I don’t have casual bum-at-home clothes, including jeans or leggings, and don’t plan to look at any or stock up right now. That may sound strange, but I was never in the habit of coming home and assuming a new outfit. There will be late spring to go to an actual store and get to see and touch and try on things, and be around people without protective gear. Besides, ordering clothes online is tricky, and when they don’t fit, you can’t just return them at a store.

  Meanwhile, I have gained back some time in my life not spent driving to work anymore. What I did do today was get my car’s maintenance work done. The place was quiet without an open sales floor, but once the building was open for the secretary I was able to sit in the showroom with her while waiting for guys in gloves to work on my car in the back. I guess staying at home will enable some things to get done that won’t involve getting time off from the office, but that bothers me a bit. I think I’ll wait until we’re back to work and use vacation time to summon the repairmen for spring cleaning.

  I want to devote my work time to being on the clock. Just like the one in the office, which I may not see for a few more weeks.

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• From a Distance

  Posted at 1:46 am by kayewer, on March 22, 2020

  Human isolation doesn’t sit well with most people. Even though social connections have often meant the fall of entire civilizations, we want to be close to somebody else. Now that we are in the new age of pandemic contagion with the COVID-19 virus, this is the first widespread disease in which we can exercise isolation as the primary preventative measure. In the days of Spanish flu and plague, sanitary practices were unheard of, and it was the man considered the Father of Hand-washing, Ignaz Semmelweis, who introduced us to hygiene as we know it. He found that midwives and doctors who washed their hands before assisting in delivery lessened deaths from puerperal (childbed) fever to about one percent of cases.

  Of course, since his ideas were well ahead of their time, he was vilified and died in an institution in 1865 at the age of 47, after suffering a nervous breakdown and a hand infection possibly brought on by a beating by guards at the facility. Imagine: people thought it was not necessary to wash their hands after using the restroom back then, they witnessed a person dying from infection, and still didn’t get it. We still see ignorant people leave the bathroom without washing today, but our overall health keeps most infections at bay.

  But back to social distancing. Many people are upset by the idea of not being with others. Sometimes one’s own family is a burden enough when having to spend extended time with each other. Topics are flooding social media about how to alleviate boredom, and I get to laugh at them.

  You see, I have been subject to social distancing for years. I’m part of a population which is subjected to unexplained or ignorant rejection, because it’s always easier to walk away from a problem than it is to tackle and solve it. Meanwhile, the problem grows and doesn’t go away. That may be why solitary confinement doesn’t work well in the prison population; if your only contact with people is with those who want to shut you away, how does that teach anything but how to be alone?

  In this case, being used to hours alone is helpful. As a child the teachers would sometimes sit me out in the hall, where my acute hearing kept me able to listen, but all the annoyance around me from the inside was left there. Sometimes it was a blessing to be separated from the bullies and ignorami.

  Over decades I’ve been in offices where I had no window (14 years in a sub-level office, then a few in a cubicle in which I had to leave it to view the outside), and today I have a space where co-workers are on the other side of a high wall, but I have several windows and sun, and some privacy. Patience in this case pays.

  Ever notice that cubicle setups often have people facing into a corner? All those time-outs as children must’ve prepared us for this scenario.

  I can work independently for long stretches, and in the car or at home I can relax with no sound at all, almost as if I am in a living version of the movie A Quiet Place, but without the overly sensitive-eared killer aliens.

  This period of isolation will pass, in weeks or so. I’m sure people will bust out with joy when it’s over, the bars will overflow and the malls may even see some shoppers again.

  I’ll sit in my chair and be grateful to take my time getting back out there. After all, I have been prepared for this all my life.

   

   

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