Stay-at-home school

Today I learned about the life cycle of Eastern brook trout,
the geographic features of Denmark,
and how to write percussion notation for concert band.

Then I explained it all to my son,
with repeated prompts, questions and
gesticulating
while he pointed out a cardinal on the bushes
and the mail truck parked outside.

He'll watch all the videos his teachers post
and click around on real estate sites
like a viable home buyer.
But he'll fling himself on the table top
like a scorned lover, all sighs
and tears,
if asked to add double numbers
or recall the purpose served by a noun.

Today, though, I marveled that he knew
the seas in the Netherlands would be salty,
that a trout is an organism and a group
form a population, and when to rest his drumsticks.

No telling what I'll learn tomorrow.

+ + +

My sister and I have been writing and sharing with each other a poem a day during this strange time of quarantine and social distancing. Today marks day 17. It's the most consistently I've ever written poetry. Dare I say that I'm beginning to even feel like a real poet. Maybe it will lead me to to become a real blogger again as well.

friday haiku

geese still congregate
fall into formation and
blissfully fly on

So many things we can do

What an eerie time. All of us sequestered into our homes because of the coronavirus outbreak, warned about the dangers of coming too close to a neighbor or a stranger, or even a friend or family member outside our homes. Now, in Illinois, we are prohibited from doing so. In other times of disaster, many have clung to the words of Mr. Rogers, "to look for the helpers." Some have even dove in to be a helper, trying to make a difference for individuals or a community that was devastated. Most of us regularly thrive on volunteering or connecting with and helping family and friends in person. But how can we do this now if we can't even get with 6 feet of each other? Here are some ideas to get us off the couch and away from the news feeds and help lift us up from the worry about what's to come:

• Donate to a good cause. If you continue to have a steady income, think about how much less money you are spending these weeks at home. For me, there's no money being spent on commuting, grabbing a take-out lunch or coffee, or just running out to the store. What better way to spend it now than to give it where it's most needed. Liam and I have decided to pick a charity to donate to every day. In some cases, we might save up our daily contribution for a few days to send off a larger donation. Jimmy Fallon: At Home Edition (definitely worth a watch!) offers a charity suggestion every day, which is where we got the idea. Some local ideas we've had include Journeys, PADS, and the Willow Creek Care Center, which is run by my amazing cousin Josie. The Care Center is continuing to provide emergency food to hundreds of Chicago-area families without resources and breakfasts and lunches to local schools to hand out to kids who would otherwise go hungry. Plus, they recently rented out a Red Roof Inn to house the local homeless population, giving beds and showers to this vulnerable population. I don't know about you, but that made me tear up a little. Also, here's a recent article in the Washington Post with a great list of organizations to support during the pandemic. (Note: some of these places also take donations of supplies, like disinfecting wipes, paper products and masks. If you are one of those whose basement is full of extra everything that you're now seeing you'll never use up, consider sharing.)
• Check in on friends, family and neighbors, especially those who are alone, anxious, sick or lonely. Email and text are great, but now is a great time to pick up the phone or FaceTime and let them hear your voice and see your smile. FaceTime is definitely Elliott's new favorite way to communicate. House tours are his specialty. Or, as long as we are still receiving mail, why not write a letter? And if you are in the "still have a job" group, consider slipping in a check or some cash to gift a friend or family member who is living more tenuously in this new reality. Don't know an older or single neighbor's phone or email address? Take a walk and jot down their physical address. Then send them a card to say hello and share yours!
• Make a meal for a widower or single mom and leave it on their doorstep. Or buy some provisions and deliver to someone at risk so they don't have to go out. (Of course, check that the person is okay receiving such a gift and be sure to practice all the right hygiene tactics when you are preparing and delivering!) Or if you're lucky enough to have flowers popping up in your yard soon, consider surprising someone with a porch bouquet.
• Send a thank you to our first responders. If you have kids, get them involved by making drawings to send to the doctors and nurses in your family practice, the ER staff in your local hospital or the EMTs and firefighters at your town's station. Such a great way to show how much you appreciate them putting themselves in harm's way to help those who fall ill.
• Share your books and DVDs. Put up a free little library or take photos of stacks of books in your personal stash that you're willing to share or part with and send to neighbors with kids who love to read. I know a 13-year-old only child who's a reader and running out of books, so I sent her mom photos of a bunch of my books and will drop off on her doorstep the ones she wants. Currently, those book are just gathering dust in my basement. My friend Teresa also had the great idea to stock a box, like a free little library, with free provisions for anyone in the neighborhood who needed them. Maybe a plastic bin or cooler in the front yard filled with basic essentials. I mean, seriously, what are people going to do with all that toilet paper anyway?
• Make art. It's easy to resort to TV, movies and video games, but imagine what could be done with a paint brush, needle and thread, colored pencils and paper, or that old dusty piano. Write a poem, learn to watercolor, try needlepoint, plunk out a tune. If you have the skills, offer a video tutorial to a friend. Find a YouTube video. Just play around. Children's book illustrator Mo Willems is teaching the world to doodle online. If there was ever a time to explore the artist in you and add more beauty to the world, it is now!
• Play a board game, do a puzzle, make music or have a dance party with the whole family. And if you are not sheltering in place with your family, play or dance virtually. It'll be a memory you won't soon forget.
• Hang out. Parents of teens, this one is especially for you. Think about all the time you have now with your kids in the house and nowhere to go. It's finally a chance to get to know your kid. Ask him or her to show you something funny they love to watch on YouTube. Then get out of your judgment seat and let yourself laugh. It's been a long time since I've laughed as hard as I have while watching Vlogs with Liam. We are also making a painting together to hang over the fireplace. As I see it, there's no better chance to connect.
• Look inside. Many of us are still bogged down by work or are cooped up with small children who have endless needs. And some of us are living both realities! But no matter who you are, this time is giving you a lot to think about. What better opportunity to face our prejudices, grudges, apathy and fears that we covered up so well in all our busyness. And make amends.
• Be nice to each other... and yourself. This is an uncertain, worrisome time. We are stuck with the same people 24 hours a day or we are all alone. (My heart aches when I think about kids especially who are in homes with adults who mistreat and abuse them. Many kids found solace in school or other people's homes and now those outlets are gone. Help can still be found here.)
  
  Take care of yourself so you can be the best for others. We are all in this together.

Have another idea (or link to a good story or online resource) for a way to give each other hope and help during this unprecedented time? Share in a comment!

The Beautiful Awful

My mom would have turned 77 today. It's been nearly 3 years since she died and I still miss her every day. I wrote this poem a few months after her death, shared it with 3 people and put it away. My sister reminded me of it tonight and I think I'm now far enough away from the intensely emotional last days of her life to put it out there.

My mom was so loud and gregarious. So full of life and energy. She didn't go out quietly. I stayed by her side those last 24 hours. It was the greatest privilege and the most terrible thing I've ever known.


The Beautiful Awful

I witnessed the birth of my mother
A grueling 24-hour labor

In the days leading up to her death, time walked backwards

She was incessantly chatty like a schoolgirl
On her last car ride, she turned her unlotioned face to the sun because "who cares about skin cancer"
She unloaded all of her stuff

When hospice arrived, she pulled me close and pierced me in her gaze, begging to know what they were saying
How much longer?
What are the signs?

A doula knows these things:
How to recognize the breathing changes
How to reply to the pleading "Help me"
How to make a mother more comfortable

I knew nothing
Futilely plumping pillows, rolling the dead weight from side to side, promising everything would be okay
When everything was awful

I just wish I had let her take her shirt off
So she could go out as she came in
Inching her tumor-ravaged shell through an invisible passage
Into something that is—that must be—
Beautiful.

© 2019 Amy Bordoni

A miracle how life goes on

Awhile ago I started a poem that resurfaced unexpectedly this weekend. It was better than I remembered, and with a few tweaks, I decided to call it done. (That's the trouble with poems. You can rework them to death and never finish anything.)

I started this after witnessing the near-death (or serious injury) of 2 pedestrians in the same week during my walking commute from work to the train and marveled at how easily any of us could meet our end a million times a day, but miraculously go on. Living so acutely aware of what could happen is a thin edge to skate as it could surely drive one crazy with worry. But somehow these brushes with mortality just keep me more aware of how wondrous life really is.


Dodging

It’s a miracle to make it through the day without dying.

Jogger, with her earphones in, darts across the intersection on a red light
Car screeches stop within inches
Driver jumps out crying and hugs her
Gaping-mouthed pedestrians look on

Train passes, gates down, man rushes out
Then jumps back within inches
As horn blares from the other direction
Commuters gasp and shake

Airplane touches down on the tarmack—
Eyes open after the sutures close—
Thief doesn’t pull the trigger—
100-year-old maple shading the bedroom rides out the storm again—

Every day the whole world crumbles
At someone else’s feet.

Inexplicably, your heart beats on.

© 2019 Amy Bordoni

friday haiku

evening air heavy
with lilac, honeysuckle
top cocktail of spring

inspired by looking up

waning crescent left behind

a fingernail moon

hangs in the blue sky

of morning

like a lost child

not yet aware

that Ursa Major and Ursa Minor

and little Cassiopeia

have disappeared