Do Yourself a Favor and Turn Off The News ( at least most of the time) We're All In The Same Covid Cave
my sedating antidepressants. It seems that people who've never had big issues with anxiety have
reached out for help. I sometimes deal with an encroaching agoraphobia especially during the long
Minnesota Winters, going for days without stepping outside for days unless I absolutely have to. I
come alive in the Spring when the living seems easy and everybody looks pretty. Why I have chosen
to stay in Minnesota is a conundrum to me. Well, perhaps not so much. I've never really had the
resources for a cross country move or the ability to try to show up in a place that far away from my
friends although sometimes I may go a long time without talking to them. In theory, I know they're
close and I could call them if I wanted to.
It started to get warm early in the Twin Cities blissfully early and I was determined not to spend four
and a half months in bed like I did like the last soul deadening/ children of the corn winter.
My likely choices would have been Seattle or New York City. I have extended family in Seattle and
had gone out to visit my Grandma and Aunt over the years so I felt a little familiar with it except for
mistaking Lake Washington with The Puget Sound and mistaking The Puget Sound for the Pacific
Ocean. There was a mass exodus of Minneapolitans for Seattle in the 80s and I felt like my moment
had passed me by.
I had dreams of moving to New York City since I could talk it seemed. The stories of scores of
artists heading off for New York City filled my mind I suppose like they did everyone's else's.The
stories of Madonna showing up in Manhattan with $35 in her pocket and going from an apprentice
dancer working at Dunkin' Donuts and becoming a superstar fueled many young person's head.
suppose. And indeed it was a right of passage for several friends of mine. My parents were aware of
my dreams and let me know in no uncertain terms that if I did that I would not have their support and
that I would just crash and burn thereby making them have to come to New York and rescue me from
Bellevue. And that weighed on me A LOT. I saw Barbra Steisand in "Nuts" in the theater two times.
I was born in Terre Haute Indiana and my father, a South Minneapolis kid was transferred back to
his hometown when I was in the 8th grade. I'd always wanted out from there. Even though the East
side of Terre Haute I grew up in was neat middle-class houses with idyllic, leafy sycamore tree lined
streets in the heyday of Larry Byrd.
I went to good schools was happy except for the daily pummeling from my gang of four bullies:
Daly, Gladden, Ishihara and Layton who has since extended an olive branch. In many classes we
were seated alphabetically and I often found myself sitting in front of Terry Ishihara known to his
friends as "Ishy" and also by one of his mortal enemies;namely me. I got the daily sometimes hourly
satisfaction of telling him "Take your seat and sit down Ishihara. Oh sorry! You are sitting."
"Shut up and turn around Sasquatch." Make Me!" "I don't make trash. I burn it."
Terre Haute is an Indiana city known as a college and factory town and known to its residents as a
place you cannot drive through without being stopped by a train. My Mom taught me to call out the
passing freight cars and count them. "Chessie, Santa Fe, BSNF..."
I was sad to leave two of my older brothers well at least one, and my very young nieces and
nephews behind and as well as my three best friends Tami, Malinda and Mollie. The little girls from
the neighborhood who always played together.
The prospect of moving up to Minneapolis was thrilling but I never visited in the winter. It
seemed to me like moving to Paris in the 1920s. I felt sometimes at Woodrow Wilson Junior High
School like Sheriff Buford Pusser in the Walking Tall movie.. It never ever let up and took on a life of
its own with few some really nice kids who seemed to really like me who weren't very high up in the
pecking order either and some half-hearted complicitors really relieved it wasn't them. And I had my
cool body guard as in the movie "My Bodyguard" Michael Russell who went on to teach high school
math. We sat by each other when we could and shared a love for the Agatha Christie mysteries
featuring Miss Marple instead of Hercule Poirot and his little fray cells, and Arthur C. Clarke novels
I finally cornered one of my bullies in the 7th grade art class after he tripped me carrying my art
project that was 50% of my grade for the semester and smacked him hard twice across the face
reducing him to a frightened, whining ninny. And pursuing him while he darted around the room.
Now the room was on my side for a change. The boys from the Sheriff's Ranch were on my side.
His retainer cut the inside of his mouth so when Mrs Nasser returned to the classroom in her
daily menopausal psychotic rage she had me sent to the assistant principle's office to be paddled.
You were real hard core if you were a boy and got paddled. I don't remember his name but I can still
see him in my mind. He was a big burly man with a lot of dark hair all over his face and arms.
resembling a young Art Buchwald. He could made the tough boys from the sheriff ranch cry. It was
unheard of for a girl to be paddled. I was scared and I was very angry. I appealed to him and the
Principal saying "They pick on me every hour of every day and no one does ANYTHING . Hey
folks- I'm the victim here. I was just defending myself FINALLY. I knew from watching 1970s cop
shows like The Rockford Files and Baretta that if you got booked, you got one phone call and I
asked for my one phone call to call my Dad.
Mom was at home but my Mom wasn't much help in white knuckle moments like this and was
battling with her own demons through a difficult menopause and her own struggles with
agoraphobia. As luck would have it my father knew the Principal socially. My Dad took time off
from work and came to see the principal while my bully's single, divorced Mom came to school who
worked for my Dad. I'm still proud of my decent and magnanimous treatment I showed to my
torturer decent treatment of him by sparing him the humiliation he subjected me with and didn't
bring it up. What about the time he shut the playground gate on me and locked it while I was on
crutches? What about pulling out my sanitary napkins from my locker for the other kids to see?
My Dad in a less than award winning parenting style said to me previously, "So I got to come to
school and fight your battles for you huh? Put you dukes up and fight!"
Things went my way during this dark night of the soul parent-principal meeting and I remember
sitting in the Principal's office ante-chamber with my oppressor while he sat there dejected arms
crossed in front him repeating "you're a big fuckin' baby, you know that?" "Yeah You Are! You Are!
You Are! Infinity..."Today he is a family court judge.As an ironic footnote during my sophomore year
of college I went to Homecoming at another nearby college and there he was! I saw him at a party
and having no idea who I was hit on me. Life is stranger than any fiction sometimes and
erratically cathartic at times. All I could remember seeing him was his taunt "There she is! Mama
LONG Legs."
Daly, Gladden, Ishihara and Layton who has since extended an olive branch. In many classes we
were seated alphabetically and I often found myself sitting in front of Terry Ishihara known to his
friends as "Ishy" and also by one of his mortal enemies;namely me. I got the daily sometimes hourly
satisfaction of telling him "Take your seat and sit down Ishihara. Oh sorry! You are sitting."
"Shut up and turn around Sasquatch." Make Me!" "I don't make trash. I burn it."
Terre Haute is an Indiana city known as a college and factory town and known to its residents as a
place you cannot drive through without being stopped by a train. My Mom taught me to call out the
passing freight cars and count them. "Chessie, Santa Fe, BSNF..."
I was sad to leave two of my older brothers well at least one, and my very young nieces and
nephews behind and as well as my three best friends Tami, Malinda and Mollie. The little girls from
the neighborhood who always played together.
The prospect of moving up to Minneapolis was thrilling but I never visited in the winter. It
seemed to me like moving to Paris in the 1920s. I felt sometimes at Woodrow Wilson Junior High
School like Sheriff Buford Pusser in the Walking Tall movie.. It never ever let up and took on a life of
its own with few some really nice kids who seemed to really like me who weren't very high up in the
pecking order either and some half-hearted complicitors really relieved it wasn't them. And I had my
cool body guard as in the movie "My Bodyguard" Michael Russell who went on to teach high school
math. We sat by each other when we could and shared a love for the Agatha Christie mysteries
featuring Miss Marple instead of Hercule Poirot and his little fray cells, and Arthur C. Clarke novels
I finally cornered one of my bullies in the 7th grade art class after he tripped me carrying my art
project that was 50% of my grade for the semester and smacked him hard twice across the face
reducing him to a frightened, whining ninny. And pursuing him while he darted around the room.
Now the room was on my side for a change. The boys from the Sheriff's Ranch were on my side.
His retainer cut the inside of his mouth so when Mrs Nasser returned to the classroom in her
daily menopausal psychotic rage she had me sent to the assistant principle's office to be paddled.
You were real hard core if you were a boy and got paddled. I don't remember his name but I can still
see him in my mind. He was a big burly man with a lot of dark hair all over his face and arms.
resembling a young Art Buchwald. He could made the tough boys from the sheriff ranch cry. It was
unheard of for a girl to be paddled. I was scared and I was very angry. I appealed to him and the
Principal saying "They pick on me every hour of every day and no one does ANYTHING . Hey
folks- I'm the victim here. I was just defending myself FINALLY. I knew from watching 1970s cop
shows like The Rockford Files and Baretta that if you got booked, you got one phone call and I
asked for my one phone call to call my Dad.
Mom was at home but my Mom wasn't much help in white knuckle moments like this and was
battling with her own demons through a difficult menopause and her own struggles with
agoraphobia. As luck would have it my father knew the Principal socially. My Dad took time off
from work and came to see the principal while my bully's single, divorced Mom came to school who
worked for my Dad. I'm still proud of my decent and magnanimous treatment I showed to my
torturer decent treatment of him by sparing him the humiliation he subjected me with and didn't
bring it up. What about the time he shut the playground gate on me and locked it while I was on
crutches? What about pulling out my sanitary napkins from my locker for the other kids to see?
My Dad in a less than award winning parenting style said to me previously, "So I got to come to
school and fight your battles for you huh? Put you dukes up and fight!"
Things went my way during this dark night of the soul parent-principal meeting and I remember
sitting in the Principal's office ante-chamber with my oppressor while he sat there dejected arms
crossed in front him repeating "you're a big fuckin' baby, you know that?" "Yeah You Are! You Are!
You Are! Infinity..."Today he is a family court judge.As an ironic footnote during my sophomore year
of college I went to Homecoming at another nearby college and there he was! I saw him at a party
and having no idea who I was hit on me. Life is stranger than any fiction sometimes and
erratically cathartic at times. All I could remember seeing him was his taunt "There she is! Mama
LONG Legs."
I won't sugar coat it, winters are a real bitch here. And back then we had real winters. To the
uninitiated it can't be explained you just have to come up and here and live through one. Making it
through your first Minnesota winter feels like earning a PhD in badassery re-enacting the movie
Walkabout a la Minneapolis. You''re not a lightweight anymore. The tribe has spoken.When I first
came up here with my family was the period when it was supremely uncool to dress warm. The less
warm the better. And to not take off the Trollhagen ski lift tag from the last winter. I embraced grunge
whole heartily later on because it was acceptable to dress in layers and look like shit because it took
so long to get bundled before you went out that any slavish attention to grooming wasn't the first
priority.
I remember during a blizzard sharing a cab with six people as the cab driver kept picking up
each stranded pedestrian after the Metro Transit buses quit running. I sat in the back in girl heaven laying my
long legs, "here she comes Mama Long Legs!" ( Which now seems like a huge compliment.)
across three guys laps in the back seat. We'd all split cab fare. And during The Halloween Blizzard
when the buses stopped running insane people were cross country skiing in downtown Minneapolis.
I've also lived through flash floods were the denizens of Minneapolis were canoeing through the
intersections of Whittier.
Those were the salad days when if you drove to a party or to see a band play you made sure there
were blankets in the trunk or chains on your tires and being asked to borrow your jumper cables felt
like loaning out your first born. If you went to out you possibly considered packing a toothbrush and
change of underwear in your lunch box purse. Chances were you might have to spend the night at
someone's house. Someone you may not have known well if at all. You were eternally grateful and
they couldn't wait for you to leave the next morning.
In my wayward youth it seemed more like an invigorating game of pretending to re-enact the movie
Jeremiah Johnson. As I've gotten older my tolerance for the extreme cold and deathly icy sidewalks
has plummeted. Today I think "Good Lord what if I fall and break a hip?" Last year I fell three times
hard within 24 hours.
came up here with my family was the period when it was supremely uncool to dress warm. The less
warm the better. And to not take off the Trollhagen ski lift tag from the last winter. I embraced grunge
whole heartily later on because it was acceptable to dress in layers and look like shit because it took
so long to get bundled before you went out that any slavish attention to grooming wasn't the first
priority.
I remember during a blizzard sharing a cab with six people as the cab driver kept picking up
each stranded pedestrian after the Metro Transit buses quit running. I sat in the back in girl heaven laying my
long legs, "here she comes Mama Long Legs!" ( Which now seems like a huge compliment.)
across three guys laps in the back seat. We'd all split cab fare. And during The Halloween Blizzard
when the buses stopped running insane people were cross country skiing in downtown Minneapolis.
I've also lived through flash floods were the denizens of Minneapolis were canoeing through the
intersections of Whittier.
Those were the salad days when if you drove to a party or to see a band play you made sure there
were blankets in the trunk or chains on your tires and being asked to borrow your jumper cables felt
like loaning out your first born. If you went to out you possibly considered packing a toothbrush and
change of underwear in your lunch box purse. Chances were you might have to spend the night at
someone's house. Someone you may not have known well if at all. You were eternally grateful and
they couldn't wait for you to leave the next morning.
In my wayward youth it seemed more like an invigorating game of pretending to re-enact the movie
Jeremiah Johnson. As I've gotten older my tolerance for the extreme cold and deathly icy sidewalks
has plummeted. Today I think "Good Lord what if I fall and break a hip?" Last year I fell three times
hard within 24 hours.
There was a belief among the indigenous people who lived here first that winter was the only reality
and summer was only a dream; winter wishes summer dreams. One does get lulled into a prolonged
idyll during the summer of long walks around lakes and forgets to brace oneself for the snow and
cold again. How many other places in America do you trick or treat through a couple feet of wet
snow?
and summer was only a dream; winter wishes summer dreams. One does get lulled into a prolonged
idyll during the summer of long walks around lakes and forgets to brace oneself for the snow and
cold again. How many other places in America do you trick or treat through a couple feet of wet
snow?
So to make a long story even longer (my Dad used to say to me "Is there a point coming
anytime soon?) You gotta get out when the getting's good and cut your losses. Leave before you're
held hostage to the cold and the snow and ice as the Donner Party couldn't. No one wants to move
across country in the Winter. And to move away requires resources I just didn't have besides $14.00
across country in the Winter. And to move away requires resources I just didn't have besides $14.00
in change in a coffee can underneath my bed.
So when someone tells me I cannot leave my home to go outside in the warm weather and dance to
Pandora and smile at strangers and dogs that's fighting words. But what can we do? Absolutely
nothing.The minute I resolve to get dressed to go down to the building exercise room it closed. I
bought a new dress for Easter because my fat clothes are tight on me now and didn't save the receipt.
.
My time that was spent by myself at my own pace cleaning and doing laundry while listening to NPR
is gone, testing the boundary between my spouse and I. I really realize I am not alone. How are
people who have children home from school all day holding up? What are parents doing who have
school age children? Because pent up teenagers can test the patience of great saints. Many but not all
teens from any background can be a complete drag. I had two personas when I was in high school, a
nice girl who went to confirmation class, cleaned up the kitchen, a student athlete and had a part-time
job at a local department store in the nearby mall. And then there was the reckless shop-lifting
banshee thug who walked into movies with my friends with lit cigarettes between our lips carrying
beer and take-out into a movie yelling at the screen.
Tips for Covid Cave Dwellers
________________________________________________________________________________
Listen to foreign language DVDs, apps or watch foreign films- you always said you wanted to learn a foreign language or brush up on the one you took in college didn't you?
Feel free to remove yourself at will from annoying room mates no matter how much you love them. Living with anybody is hard. It doesn't make it easier because they're your family.
Got a guitar laying around you always wanted to learn to play? Now's your chance and YouTube is your instructor.
Bake
Wanted to finish The Magic Mountain or The Goldfinch? Go ahead
Binge watch and keep binge watching.
Learn candle making and soap making either to sell on Etsy or to use yourself.
Fall in love all over again with Modge Podge. Remember counting down the minutes of Group Therapy, Spirituality Group, Food Group and Life Skills & Goal Setting Group just so you could be rewarded with that hour of OT? Fall in love with an old friend again!
Create an OT workshop space in your house or apartment. Make collages, do decoupage, threaten to decoupage the kids if they won't be quiet. Get out that plastic crochet hat making frame. Work on your Pinterest page.
Make a visual and writing journal. Pretend your a shopkeeper and take an inventory of what you need. What do you absolutely need tomorrow at the store, what can wait ?What are you gonna need coming up sooner?
This may sound like a complete no-brainer but find your deck of cards.
Make a game with your housemates of who gets a cookie for being quiet the longest,
Work out at home with dumb bells and a mat and YouTube.
Clean until your place looks like a page out of AD.
Make an altar in your home or make a prayer and meditation closet.
Organize. Do a drawer or a closet. Pull out winter clothes, make decisions and put what you know you're probably not going to wear into a donate bag.
Probably most importantly stay in contact with your friends and family. You can relive the days your parents wouldn't stop nagging until you got off the phone after a marathon 7 hour call with a friend from school.
Listen to Books on DVD or write a book. Work on a journal for your kids or grand kids to read one day. This IS History.
And lastly while the news of the pandemic does seem to change from hour to hour decide to get updates once in a while and TURN OFF THAT DAMN NEWS! Ask yourself and I'm completely serious even though it's therapy speak of the highest order Would This Be Considered Taking Good Care of Myself?
Start your own damn blog!
Catharsis is healthy so "embrace the cactus" and watch some movies or read books about a dystopian near future.
school age children? Because pent up teenagers can test the patience of great saints. Many but not all
teens from any background can be a complete drag. I had two personas when I was in high school, a
nice girl who went to confirmation class, cleaned up the kitchen, a student athlete and had a part-time
job at a local department store in the nearby mall. And then there was the reckless shop-lifting
banshee thug who walked into movies with my friends with lit cigarettes between our lips carrying
beer and take-out into a movie yelling at the screen.
Tips for Covid Cave Dwellers
________________________________________________________________________________
Listen to foreign language DVDs, apps or watch foreign films- you always said you wanted to learn a foreign language or brush up on the one you took in college didn't you?
Feel free to remove yourself at will from annoying room mates no matter how much you love them. Living with anybody is hard. It doesn't make it easier because they're your family.
Got a guitar laying around you always wanted to learn to play? Now's your chance and YouTube is your instructor.
Bake
Wanted to finish The Magic Mountain or The Goldfinch? Go ahead
Binge watch and keep binge watching.
Learn candle making and soap making either to sell on Etsy or to use yourself.
Fall in love all over again with Modge Podge. Remember counting down the minutes of Group Therapy, Spirituality Group, Food Group and Life Skills & Goal Setting Group just so you could be rewarded with that hour of OT? Fall in love with an old friend again!
Create an OT workshop space in your house or apartment. Make collages, do decoupage, threaten to decoupage the kids if they won't be quiet. Get out that plastic crochet hat making frame. Work on your Pinterest page.
Make a visual and writing journal. Pretend your a shopkeeper and take an inventory of what you need. What do you absolutely need tomorrow at the store, what can wait ?What are you gonna need coming up sooner?
This may sound like a complete no-brainer but find your deck of cards.
Make a game with your housemates of who gets a cookie for being quiet the longest,
Work out at home with dumb bells and a mat and YouTube.
Clean until your place looks like a page out of AD.
Make an altar in your home or make a prayer and meditation closet.
Organize. Do a drawer or a closet. Pull out winter clothes, make decisions and put what you know you're probably not going to wear into a donate bag.
Probably most importantly stay in contact with your friends and family. You can relive the days your parents wouldn't stop nagging until you got off the phone after a marathon 7 hour call with a friend from school.
Listen to Books on DVD or write a book. Work on a journal for your kids or grand kids to read one day. This IS History.
And lastly while the news of the pandemic does seem to change from hour to hour decide to get updates once in a while and TURN OFF THAT DAMN NEWS! Ask yourself and I'm completely serious even though it's therapy speak of the highest order Would This Be Considered Taking Good Care of Myself?
Start your own damn blog!
Catharsis is healthy so "embrace the cactus" and watch some movies or read books about a dystopian near future.
Be Careful and Stay Safe!
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