Back in March 2020 when I began blogging about the COVID-19 pandemic, I never expected to still be doing it more than two years later. But here we are. My blog categories have grown, but not in the way I had hoped. They have gone from Pandemic 2020, to Pandemic ’21 and now Pandemic ’22. It’s jarring and sad. Nor did I ever think that within those 26 months, the United States would hit a staggering milestone: one million Americans dead from a novel coronavirus that we feared and knew so little about then. A million lives lost is unimaginable, impossible to comprehend. As we mark this milestone, it’s important to remember that behind each loss…
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Just for kicks
TRAVERSE CITY, Michigan – I spent last weekend here in the Cherry Capital of the World, where the great outdoors entices you to explore new adventures. Like climbing Sleeping Bear Dunes and visiting local wineries. Or spending carefree afternoons shopping downtown buying overpriced but delicious jam at Cherry Republic. And ending each day with spectacular sunsets over Lake Michigan. We did none of those things. Instead, we watched soccer. From morning till night. At least it seemed that way. This was my first-ever soccer tournament. And, if I’m being honest, probably not my last. Bet you didn’t see that coming, did you? Neither did I. A lifelong sports fan, I love…
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Pluto lives on
I have never lost an animal. Losing as in sending a beloved pet beyond the Rainbow Bridge to frolic and sniff dog butts for eternity until they meet their humans again. Just lucky, I guess. So why have I been crying my eyes out over the passing of a dog that I didn’t even know? Maybe it’s because our Madison turns 14 tomorrow. It’s a fact that dogs age faster than humans. You can’t protect them from time. But you try. For now, the dog causing my sadness is Pluto. Not the big goofy Disney pooch. The other Pluto. The “talking” mini-Schnauzer who gained worldwide fame on YouTube encouraging people to stay…
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Don’t be like a bee
Dear reader, I pride myself in writing original material for my Heart Matters Blog. But last week, I received a stellar piece of writing in an email. I laughed, cried and found more clarity after reading it than I’ve felt in, well, about two years. With apologies to author Anne Lamott, who turns 68 on Sunday, here’s my slightly revised/cribbed version of her piece: I am going to be 62 in three days, if I live that long. I’m optimistic. Mostly. God, what a world. What a heartbreaking, terrifying freak show. It is completely ruining my birthday plans. I was going to celebrate how age and the grace of myopia…
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This guy
This guy. He helped save me twice. We met more than 20 years ago to discuss my course of treatment for “something behind my heart.” I was 41. He was, I know now, just three years my senior. This guy seemed older, but not because of some avuncular demeanor with big ears or errant nose hairs. Short, tanned and handsome, he treated me more like a sister than a stranger. He cared. This guy wasn’t just my cardiologist. He was warm, funny and downright silly at times. He wore kindness on the sleeve of his white coat. Unlike some doctors, he never seemed to take himself too seriously, except when…
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‘We’re dying here’
All he needed was 16 minutes to bring down the House – and the Senate, for that matter. In his Wednesday morning address to the U.S. Congress, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky gave the performance of his life. But for this former comedian, there was nothing funny about his familiar plea used by stand-up comics the world over: We’re dying here. Dressed in his trademark military-issue army green T-shirt and seated next to a Ukrainian flag, Zelensky spoke through an interpreter. He methodically explained how Russia was attacking his country’s right to live free. His people are dying, he said, and he needs help to stop it. Now. Unshaven yet unquestionably a…
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‘Testa dura’
It’s been 10 days since I tripped over my own feet trying to pick up a loose ball on the pickleball court. The bump on my forehead’s still a bit sore and my shiner’s more lavender than purple but not nearly as bad as it was – or could have been. The pickler gods were watching over me. Or maybe I’m just very lucky. Talk about March coming in like a lion. It’s not often you witness someone doing a face-plant into a hard (read: concrete) tennis court, not the elegant grass of Wimbledon or forgiving clay of the French Open. Nope, I landed hard and fast on my head,…
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Three Ws and an H
In journalism school, prospective reporters and broadcasters learn how to construct a news story using essential elements called “the five Ws and the H.” These useful tools are six basic questions reporters should ask to make sure they have covered all the bases: who, what, when, where, why and how. Who knows what’s taught now. “Hmm, let’s make a TikTok video using all 26 letters of the alphabet.” (Insert eye-roll emoji here.) Since it’s the last Saturday in February, I’m doing a blog post roundup using a variation on the five Ws and the H theme. At this moment, I’ve only got three Ws. But I’m retired and can blame…
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‘Nerdle’
With Valentine’s Day upon us, I thought I’d post something about love. By that, I mean Wordle, the online word game that has taken the planet by storm. Wordle is one of the few good things to emerge from the pandemic, other than embracing our natural hair color, finding more creative ways to celebrate birthdays, and giving educators and health care workers the praise they have deserved all along. According to a New York Times story headlined “Wordle is a Love Story,” Brooklyn-based software engineer Josh Wardle designed the game after he and his wife, Palak Shah, began playing the paper’s spelling bee and crossword puzzles regularly after the pandemic began. Wardle…
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Brisket, beavers and bathrooms
Somewhere on I-75 South in Georgia – The first sign of trouble appeared on a billboard near Calhoun, about 70 miles north of Atlanta. A colorful roadside ad featured what looked like a smiling, cartoonish chipmunk with a black background and this screaming-yellow message: “BUC-EE’S … A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME.” Rebecca: “Ever heard of Buc-ee’s?” Me: “Nope. Maybe they bought Stuckey’s.” Rebecca: “Yeah, right. Buc-ee’s bought Stuckey’s. Funny.” Then another billboard: “BUC-EE’S … BEAVER NUGGETS!” Me: “Guess it’s a beaver and not a chipmunk.” Rebecca: “Yeah, definitely a beaver.” It’s a quiet ride for a few more miles. Then, yet another sign: ‘BUC-EE’S … ALWAYS OPEN. 165 MILES.’” Me: “That’s wrong on so many levels.” A few…
