“Let love cut through the American noise.”
Skillet
Writing about my big adventures in small spaces has taken on a different meaning lately. The last blog discussed all the adventures I was creating while the country was shut down because of Covid-19, although I would prefer traveling around our great nation taking pictures of its stunning magnificence and its proud history. Within the past few weeks, news of the worldwide pandemic has been shadowed by conflict within the United States.
To wear a mask or to not wear a mask… black lives matter… police brutality… looting… national monuments and memorials removed… Declaration of Independence – Declaration of Sentiments – 100 years of Votes for Women… Biden/Trump… and so on… Like so many others, I’m trying to unpack our current world by understanding my personal ideals and my own ignorance – all while seeking joy. I think it has been a challenge for many.
This week, my oldest child was diagnosed with Covid-19, and I am afraid. He has a fever and really doesn’t feel well. Since March, he and his wife have been isolating – seriously isolating – they hadn’t left the house except for an occasional walk in the park. She worked from home, as he finished classes and took finals. Unfortunately, they decided to attend a get-together over the 4th of July weekend in a Covid-19 hot spot. Like the little boy who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Joshua stated, “Mom, I played a stupid game, and I won a stupid prize. I’m so sorry.” Is this his fault? I really don’t care about the politics of mask-wearing or the statistics. I care about the one life of my child – and my parents – and your grandmother – and my students – and our neighbors – and people in general.
Covid-19 has affected more than my son’s body. He “graduated” from law school in May with no semblance of recognition, besides the amazing party for two his wife provided. He did receive his Juris Doctorate diploma in the mail, so it is real. He’s been studying eight hours a day since May for the July Bar Exam; however, because he now has Covid-19, he has to postpone the exam until February. Finding a job and starting his career just took a back seat because he didn’t wear a mask.
A year ago, I was solo traveling freely around the northeastern United States. Two years ago, I was in Europe, Alaska, and Australia. Three years ago, I was touring Europe with two of my four kiddos. Four years ago, I was in different countries in Europe with my other two kiddos. I’m presently deciding whether or not to take another domestic road trip at the end of the month. As I limit my exposure to social media and national news, I find myself much happier. Life happens, and we must all learn to adapt in order to live our best lives. However, so many folks around me are, frankly, depressing – negatively caught up in the reality of our world. I don’t buy into it – in spite of having a child struggling with a scary pandemic. I still have control over what I spend my thoughts and energies on, so I choose to love.
While on my mini road trip last month, I was listening to an old iTunes playlist (I know) and came across a song by Skillet, where the lyrics demanded that we all choose to let “love cut through the American noise.” At that moment, I was just leaving a large city where all the ground-level windows of the downtown buildings had been boarded up following the aftermath of looting that took place earlier that week. I traveled to Lincoln’s Boyhood Home in Indiana and hiked the grounds. It was early in the morning, so I was alone with the birds. I thought of the book I’d just finished where mockingjays mimicked the sounds of terror in a dystopian world, as well as the songs of hope for love. I wonder what song would be mimicked from my lifetime? I pray it is love, but fear that history will reflect a generation of noise.
I had lunch in a cafe where I’d spent many Tuesday afternoons with other struggling stay-at-home mothers, while a local church watched our babies for just a couple of hours each week. I waited over an hour for a table for one – in the corner in the back room. I then traveled out of the way to the small town where my new family lived for nearly five years… a town where my husband earned his first “real” career-boosting job, we welcomed babies two and three, and we bought our first piece of real estate. Much has changed there in two decades- – yet, nothing has changed. I left – again – with many tears from a lost past. I spent the night about an hour west in a lovely Airbnb. I went for a walk, looking for a place to find a hamburger, but followed live music to a wine bar where I met two couples. We all shared a glass of wine along with our tales of first marriages gone wrong, promising to meet again in Colorado later this summer – new friends cutting through the American noise.
Yesterday, I drove my Little Guy trailer just a few miles and spent the night in a Colorado State Park – my first visit to this particular park. I’ll be back. Some campers wore masks. Some did not. Most stopped to inquire about my Little Guy. Everyone waved. I miss my time on the road. When I messaged a friend this morning to let him know how much I love traveling in my tiny trailer, he commented, “Your trailer kind of embraces you.”
The American noise was silent for at least 24 hours.
Chasing Verbs 