Strange Days, Strange Weeks, but the Pizza Remains Delicious

This has been a strange week-end after a strange week--but of course, every week feels strange when we're living through a dystopian narrative, especially when one lives in one of the epicenters.  So, in the interest of history, let me record some moments.

--On Friday, I had a phone call from one of my oldest college friends.  It's always a bit surreal to hear from old friends (are we really this old that we have grown children and grandchildren and have lived somewhere for over 20 years?).   But it's even more surreal in a time of plague and closed borders.

--Yesterday, I made this Facebook post:  "A virus rages outside, and we are staying safe inside, experimenting with sourdough starter. Today's experiment: pizza dough. I pulled out my grandmother's oldest bowl and greased it for the rising dough. I want to believe that this bowl has sustained my family through dark days: the Depression, World War II, various family difficulties. I remember my grandmother starting the day, each and every day, by making dough for rolls for the big meal of the day. I am grateful for these memories, grateful for sustenance of all sorts, hopeful for sustenance to carry our society through these days of dismal news about disease transmission."

--The pizza was delicious.  The pizza is always delicious.  At least that hasn't changed.

--Yesterday evening, some friends who live in the neighborhood stopped by.  We kept our distance on the front porch and caught up.  It was good to catch up.  We don't see them as often as we see our other friends in the neighborhood.

--Our friends across town who are moving to the heartland. have accepted an offer on their house and made an offer on a house in Indiana, where it's cheaper to live and close enough to Chicago so that they can see their daughter and other family members on a regular basis.  It's amazing to me that they could find a house from such a distance and that it proved to be the house they wanted.

--When I look back on how little I've been doing with traditional poetry writing, let me remember the other writing I've been doing.  I've been working on a creative video meditation on Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43.  For several days, I've walked the neighborhood, filming short clips, making the kinds of interesting connections that usually only happen when I write poems.  Here's an example:

--The weather has been very strange.  One of my former colleagues who moved to Brooklyn when she was laid off in 2012 posted a picture of the weather alert that told her that she was under a tropical storm warning.  Our summer weather isn't usually as brutal as it has been--we've not had our usual ocean breeze that keeps us not as beastly.

--Much of my work life this week that didn't involve teaching revolved around the temperature logs that we're keeping.  I spent a lot of time taking and recording temperatures.  I updated our log books.  I sent them to the people requesting them.  We were told we were doing them wrong, so I came up with a different system, a system which will take even more time when we implement it this week.  I am paid well to do this work, but I don't think the people above me really understand how much time it all takes.

--It has been a week of jaw-dropping statements and possible policy decisions from the president and his staff.  But when has that ever not been true?

--I did see the first TV ad for Joe Biden.  I can't remember any particulars, but I did remember being impressed and hopeful--just what I want a campaign ad to do.