covid diary: day 98

Here is a small sign of change: Quaker Oats announced today that it will give a new brand name and image to Aunt Jemima, the syrup/pancake brand. Why? Because finally, even Quaker Oats has been forced to admit that the entire brand has always been based on a harmful racial stereotype. Why has it taken them 95 years (Quaker Oats acquired Aunt Jemima in 1925) to realize this? I have no idea. I mean, it's not like they had any way to know they were perpetuating racist tropes of plantation life, minstrel shows (the name "Aunt Jemima" comes from a song of the same name that was popular in minstrel shows), and black women as "mammy."

Absolutely nothing problematic to see here.

Or here.

And definitely nothing troubling here.

And it's not like the calls for change just sprouted up in the current anti-racist environment. People have been calling for Aunt Jemima to change for YEARS. In today's statement, Quaker Oats VP and Chief Marketing Officer Kristin Kropfl put it this way: “We recognize Aunt Jemima’s origins are based on a racial stereotype. While work has been done over the years to update the brand in a manner intended to be appropriate and respectful, we realize those changes are not enough.” Hmm, I wonder what changes she means? Oh, I see, they used a new (but still black) face, removed the "mammy" scarf, and gave her some classy pearl earrings. Problem solved! Except not.

All better, right?

OOOOH, late breaking news: Mars Inc. also announced this afternoon that "now is the right time to evolve the Uncle Ben's brand, including its visual brand identity." Yes, please.

In other news, researchers still don't know why some people get critically ill from COVID-19 while others show only mild symptoms or even no symptoms. They've got a lot of theories, and they're studying the problem, but so far no concrete answers. A U.S. NIH study looked at which proteins appear in the blood of very sick people but not in other people. And a European study found correlations between two blood markers and respiratory failure. One of the markers is blood type:

The researchers found that patients who had Type A blood had a 50 percent higher risk of needing oxygen or a ventilator. Type O blood seemed to have a partial protective effect.

And it's not just the scientists. Those for-profit creepster DNA companies are getting in on the act too:

The consumer genetics giants Ancestry.com and 23andMe are getting involved. 23andMe recently released preliminary findings showing that people with Type O blood are 9 to 18 percent less likely to test positive for covid-19 than people with other blood types. The company is still exploring links between blood type and disease severity.

I mean, if that's the case, that's great for me. And my mom and dad and all my siblings. (Mom, Bethany, J, and I are all O negative; Dad and Lon are O positive.) Maybe not so great for Mike and the boys (all AB positive) though. I realize it's only a preliminary study (and basically anecdotal information from the DNA companies), but it's interesting. I could use any partial protective effect I can get.

Nationwide cases: 2,154,004. Deaths: 117,576.

covid diary: day 97

Pears. In a pear tree.

Over the weekend, I read a post from a friend who is on the local hospital board. They had a board meeting last week to discuss the rising rate of cases in our county. We're doubling every 7 to 10 days, which is not great. One of the key takeaways from the meeting was that 37 percent of the new cases were people age 19 and younger, and most of the rest were family groups connected to those kids. Put a pin in that information because it will be relevant later on.

Yesterday afternoon, I had to take Liam to the doctor. It's the first doctor appointment for any of us since the pandemic started, so I wasn't sure what to expect. Here's how it went: I called the doctor's office in the morning and gave them a brief synopsis of the issue (he has extremely thick skin under his toes that cracks and bleeds and makes it hard for him to get a full range of motion bending his toes; it's not a new problem, and he has seen this doctor for treatment for it before). My brief synopsis wasn't enough, so I had to answer a lengthy series of questions both about the specific problem and about Liam's general health (any coughing, fever, exposure to anyone with coughing or fever, etc.) and answer similar questions about the rest of the family too. The nurse wrote everything down, then submitted my request for an appointment to the doctor. I asked the nurse to tell me about the process, and it turns out that for now, they can make appointments for well visits (physicals, vaccinations) without going through the request process, but anything else, the doctor has to approve personally. "But," he told me, "the good news is that July 4, the governor says everything can open back up, so we will be able to schedule appointments regularly again!" So we hung up, and about an hour later, a different nurse called to say we had been approved for an appointment, and that we should come in 90 minutes. We had to pass a temperature screening to get into the medical office building, and they had masks on hand for anyone who didn't have their own. (We wore our own masks.) After that, the appointment was pretty standard, except there were only three chairs in the entire waiting room, each one spaced far apart, and everyone working there was wearing a mask.

Funny side note: The nurse we had was shorter than me by a lot, and she tried to take Liam's height by having him stand against the rule on the wall where you lift the bar and put it on the kid's head to read his height. Which was great, except she had to stand right against the wall on her tiptoes to get the rule bar to go high enough, and then she couldn't read the result because of the angle she was standing at. For the record, he didn't stand particularly straight or extend to his full height, and the official reading was 6 feet, 4.5 inches.

After the doctor's office, Liam and I had to drive to the pharmacy to pick up some prescription cream for his feet, along with Epsom salts for foot baths and some other supplies. We were the only customers in the store wearing masks.

In the evening, Mike took Liam to register for the abbreviated summer tennis season. When they arrived at the courts, there were about 15 or so people around a couple of tables signing kids up. Mike and Liam were the only ones wearing masks. Mike asked the woman who runs the program what plans they have for protecting the kids against spread of the virus. He explained that our concern isn't the matches themselves (because one kid on either side of a tennis court is PLENTY of distance to lower risks) but all the drills, team huddles, and just general times when sweaty athletes breathe hard near each other. You'll never guess what answer he got. "Tennis doesn't start until July 6, and the governor says that everything goes back to normal July 4." Mike: "So there's no plan then?" At that, all 15 of the people there turned to stare at him. And not in a friendly way. The lady sarcastically told him, "Well, we can't keep the kids from touching the same balls or anything like that."

It's pretty much a perfect encapsulation of how things feel to us now. We feel like we're the only holdouts still worrying about the virus, while everyone around us is carrying on as normal, having parties, doing sports leagues, going on vacation, flying on airplanes, planning cruises (for god's sake!), interacting in large groups, and just generally acting like there's no longer a pandemic killing around 800 people per day in America. And not just that, but actively being upset and/or disappointed in us for not going along with it. Listen, I love my siblings, and I admire the hell out of my brother for being a frontline healthcare worker. But we can't be around him because his exposure level is much greater than our risk tolerance. I love my baby sister, and I want her to do the things she is comfortable doing, but if she plans to go on a cruise right before Christmas, we won't be with her to celebrate the holiday because that's way too much risk of exposure for us. Same with everyone else. Johnny and Erin are going on vacation to Florida soon, and cool, that's within their risk tolerance, so I wish them well. Godspeed. But that means we will have to continue to distance from them. That's just the way it goes. We don't expect anyone to change their plans or preferred activities in deference to us, but we DO expect people to respect that our assessment of the risks is much different than theirs.

Which brings me back around to that 37 percent figure. I am terrified of Liam playing tennis. I'm doing my best to balance his real love of playing tennis against my fear of exposure, but when I hear that 37 percent of new local cases are kids who then end up infecting their families, it's hard to square that. And I don't know what the school year will look like either, or how we can mitigate those risks, or if there is any way to stay safe.

People think I'm overreacting, but look, I've been a fat person in America my whole life. I've been a fat adult in this health system for 27 years and counting, and I know firsthand that medical bias against fat people is real. I know exactly what it's like to contract a lung infection and, when it didn't heal quickly enough (even though pleurisy is pretty much characterized by slow healing), to have the doctor tell me that the real problem was that my fat was crushing my lungs and that I should get some exercise and everything would be fine. I know what it's like to explain to that doctor that I had just trained for and ridden a 30-mile bike event the week before I developed the infection, and to have the doctor respond that I must be lying, and that I was definitely noncompliant and that he just couldn't help me. I know exactly what it's like to have a hernia bulging out of my midsection, and have the surgeon talk directly to my husband instead of to me as he explained that the real treatment I should get is not a hernia repair but bariatric surgery. I know what it's like to then have that surgeon refer me to a bariatric surgeon "because they're used to dealing with bodies like yours" and to have him also decline to fix the hernia because my weight might increase my risk of the repair failing by 3 to 5 percent (not a typo, 3 to 5 percent) over the risk of repair failure for a thin person getting the same surgery. That doctor also offered to do bariatric surgery, or to put me on a liquid diet of 600 calories per day until I lost enough weight so he would be comfortable fixing me. Nevermind what would happen after I lost the weight, had the surgery, and starting eating solid food again.

So let's be real: If I get COVID-19 and have to go to the hospital, it is highly likely that I will not be treated like Holli, human being, mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, editor, writer, lover of books and birds and parks. I will be treated as a risk. A complication. A comorbidity. A person who should just lose some weight and then everything will magically be better. A person who will be the lowest priority if there is a ventilator shortage because other people have much better chances of recovery. A person who might be worth fixing if only she were thinner. What do you think my chances are of getting quality health care in this system? Are they higher than my chances of never coming back home to my children and my spouse? Would you roll those dice in my shoes?

Tell me: Is it worth the risk? But what if the event is outdoors? But what if people promise they're not infected? But what if the damned governor says everything is safe again even as 500 new infections happen across the state every day? But what if, what if, what if.

For me, the answers are easy: No. No. No. And definitely no. And everyone else is just going to have to live with that, because my primary goal in life is to see my children through to adulthood, and I won't risk that for a cookout, a vacation, a family party, or anything else.

Nationwide cases: 2,127,745. Deaths: 116,700.

relevant to my interests

Turns out Americans have a history of taking down statues of oppressors. From the New York Times:

His Majesty’s protuberant eyes were fixed cruelly on his New York subjects. His voluptuous lips were set in steely resolve. Towering on a marble base above the Bowling Green, the gilded equestrian statue of King George III evoked a Roman emperor. With right arm upraised over the heads of the rabble, his message to a colony in revolutionary turmoil was plain enough: Don’t even think about it. 

On July 9, 1776, however, after hearing the newly adopted Declaration of Independence publicly proclaimed, 40 American soldiers and sailors under the command of Capt. Oliver Brown stole down to the Bowling Green in Lower Manhattan under cover of night. They lashed ropes around the statue, pulled until their ropes broke and then pulled again. At last, the symbol of a detested monarchy lay in pieces on the ground. Pieces of precious lead. 

“His statue here has been pulled down to make musket ball of, so that his troops will probably have melted Majesty fired at them,” Ebenezer Hazard, the New York postmaster, wrote to Gen. Horatio Gates. 

Reduced to 42,088 musket balls, a pedestal and a few barely recognizable scraps, the statue all but disappeared. 

And lookit, here's a painting from the New York Historical Society that documents the day:

And an engraving based on the painting!

covid diary: day 96

On March 7, 1965, peaceful protesters led by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. began a 54-mile march from Selma, Alabama, to the state's capital, Montgomery. There were 600 people marching after the death of Jimmie Lee Jackson, a civil rights activist and deacon in the Baptist church, who was shot to death by a state trooper as he tried to protect his mother during a civil rights demonstration. On March 7, the marchers reached the outskirts of Selma and crossed the Edmund Pettus Bridge, where they were met by state troopers, who refused to speak to the protesters and instead began attacking them. Here's how the History Channel describes it:

[State troopers] knocked the marchers to the ground. They struck them with sticks. Clouds of tear gas mixed with the screams of terrified marchers and the cheers of reveling bystanders. Deputies on horseback charged ahead and chased the gasping men, women and children back over the bridge as they swung clubs, whips and rubber tubing wrapped in barbed wire. Although forced back, the protesters did not fight back.

Millions of people watched this attack on live TV (after ABC interrupted a showing of "Judgment at Nuremberg," a movie about Nazi bigotry and atrocities), and it proved to be a turning point in getting the Voting Rights Act passed. Of note, the conservative Supreme Court recently gutted the protections enshrined in the Voting Rights Act, saying they weren't needed anymore since racism is over or whatever, and that's one major reason we have the voting nightmare we do now. It's by design, and SCOTUS gutted the oversight that could have mitigated this.

The bridge itself still stands, and is now a National Historic Landmark. But let's take a look at the name it bears: Edmund Pettus. Who was he? Well, a white guy, of course (it *is* Alabama). Pettus was a Confederate general during the U.S. Civil War. He was a leader in the Alabama KKK. He even became the Grand Dragon of the Alabama Klan in the final year of Reconstruction. At age 75, after a full life of racist "heroism," he was elected to the U.S. Senate, where he served until he died in the middle of his second term. And in May 1940, decades after his death, Selma dedicated the bridge in honor of this man. Why might they do that? Well, let's ask some historians interviewed by Smithsonian Magazine:

At the time, Selma “would’ve been a place where place names were about [black people’s] degradation,” says Alabama historian Wayne Flynt. “It’s a sort of in-your-face reminder of who runs this place.”

In the program book commemorating the [May 1940] dedication, Pettus is recalled as “a great Alabamian.” Of the occasion, it was written, “And so today the name of Edmund Winston Pettus rises again with this great bridge to serve Selma, Dallas County Alabama and one of the nation’s great highways.”  

So even as the bridge opened as a symbol of pride for a battered South still rebuilding decades after the Civil War, it was also a tangible link to the state’s long history of enslaving and terrorizing its black inhabitants.  

“The bridge was named for him, in part, to memorialize his history, of restraining and imprisoning African-Americans in their quest for freedom after the Civil War,” says University of Alabama history professor John Giggie. 

Seems pretty clear to me why they named it the way they did.

This is John Lewis.

But back to the march in 1965. Along with Dr. King and various notable figures, marching that day was 25-year-old John Lewis, chairman of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC). When the police attacked, Lewis was at the front of the march, and he was beaten savagely by a policeman wielding a baton. The officer hit him at least twice in the head, causing a skull fracture and nearly killing Lewis.

Yes, that's John Lewis in the foreground
being beaten by the police.

John Lewis went on to become a congressman; he has represented Georgia since 1986. He's often called the "conscience of the U.S. Congress." He has worked tirelessly for equality and justice, and he's revered as a civil rights leader. In December 2019, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, but in March of this year, he still came to commemorate the 55th anniversary of the march in Selma. He spoke eloquently to the crowd:

Fifty-five years ago, a few of our children attempted to march ... across this bridge. We were beaten, we were tear-gassed. I thought I was going to die on this bridge. But somehow and some way, God almighty helped me here. ... We must go out and vote like we never, ever voted before. ... I'm not going to give up. I'm not going to give in. We're going to continue to fight. We need your prayers now more than ever before. We must use the vote as a nonviolent instrument or tool to redeem the soul of America. ... To each and every one of you, especially you young people. ... Go out there, speak up, speak out. Get in the way. Get in good trouble. Necessary trouble, and help redeem the soul of America.

So you tell me: What name should this bridge bear? Should we commemorate the glorified history of racist violence, subjugation, greed, and ownership of people? Or should we honor the life's work of a man who has worked tirelessly and peacefully for equality, despite having nearly lost his life to the cause? To me, it's not even a hard question. The bridge should be renamed, all the military bases that bear the names of Confederate generals should be renamed, and all the racist statues designed to intimidate should be taken down and replaced with monuments to the history of bravery shown by Americans throughout history fighting for justice and equality. Give me statues of Harriet Tubman. Give me statues of the black and brown men who have fought in every single war this country has engaged in, yet never seem to get the credit of their white brethren. Give me statues of black Civil War heroes. Give me statues of John Lewis.

covid diary: day 93

He lost his head.

All right, let's talk about those Confederate statues.

All over the country, protesters have been tearing down statues of Confederate generals/heroes/figures. They've also been tearing down (or, in the case of Boston, beheading) statues of Christopher Columbus. Let's take Columbus first, because that one's easy: We. Should. Not. Venerate. Christopher. Columbus. He did not "discover" the Americas. They were already here. There were already people living on both continents, with fully developed cultures and societies. Who discovered what now? Also, Columbus was a complete and utter monster. He ordered the native people to each bring him a quantity of gold every three months, and then he ordered his men to cut the hands off anyone who failed to find enough gold. He was responsible for genocide and slave trades and sex trafficking and mass rape. We should not honor him with statues, or a holiday, or even by remembering his name.

Which brings me to the Confederate statues. According to the Southern Poverty Law Center, there are some 700 (!!!) Confederate monuments in 31 states plus Washington, DC. There were 11 states in the Confederate States of America, so what's with the other 20 and DC? Easy: racism.

Yo, "the boys who wore the gray" were deliberately
perpetuating and enshrining a racist nation.

The vast majority of these monuments were built between the 1890s and the 1950s, well after the end of the Civil War but in the midst of segregation. Jim Crow laws. Black people trying to vote and work and live their lives as equal to white people. There were two huge spikes of monument building, one in the early 1900s and the other in the 1950s and 1960s. So just after Reconstruction and again during the heart of the Civil Rights Movement. Coincidence? I think not. These monuments to white supremacy were meant to send a clear signal to black people. To venerate the men in charge of their subjugation. To make sure that everyone knew that whites were superior and always would be. To make sure that black people understood that the laws were and always would be created and enforced by white people, and that those laws would ever be designed to advantage white people.

Truer words were never written.

These men were not heroes. They were traitors to their country and (importantly to them and to many modern-day racists) to the god they claim to worship. They were slavers. They were the perpetrators of generations of violence, rape, forced marriage, extreme physical abuse, separation of families, and the buying and selling of people. They should not be honored, just like the men who perpetrated the Holocaust in Germany should not be honored. We should understand what they did, and work to create a system that's designed to advantage the people who need it most, rather than to keep the current power structure.

According to the demonstrators, he "tripped and
fell into the river."

I applaud the protesters tearing these statues down across the country, and even around the world. In Bristol, UK, protesters tore down a statue of a slave trader and threw it in the river. The BBC reports that the statue was pulled out of the harbor and taken to a secure location, where the river mud was cleaned off of it. There are plans to eventually display it in a museum, just as it is today (but without the mud): complete with spray-paint and ropes tied around it. YES BRISTOL. (Other statues in the UK have also been removed, but this one caught my interest.)

And listen, you don't have to believe my little history lesson. Look it up for yourself. Maybe start with the History Channel. Or NPR. Read all about it. I hope you do, because then you'll understand why this MUST change. I hope they're all smashed to pieces and used to line people's driveways or something.

Nationwide cases: 2,036,429. Deaths: 114,195.

covid diary: day 92

It was a picture-perfect day outside. I spent the day working, and Mike spent the day working on my car. (I am SO grateful that he is mechanically inclined!) He replaced my brakes and rotors, and he fixed this annoying rattle that's been plaguing us for years (if you care about the details, it's a common Odyssey problem where the heat shields start to rust and then they come loose and start rattling; Mike found a way to clamp them down).

I was thinking that today I would write about the statues of Confederate generals and genocidal "explorers" that have been forcefully taken down by protesters all over the country, but then my boss emailed me with a last-minute request to work a shift tonight, and I can't pass up any hours right now, no matter if I'm tired, so that will have to wait for another day. Here's my executive summary: Take them all down. Smash them to pieces. Stop glorifying terrible men as a way to keep black people in a constant state of fear and intimidation. Just stop.

Nationwide cases: 2,023,347. Deaths: 113,820.

covid diary: day 91

Just a perfectly normal radar image showing a tropical

storm making landfall in Michigan after crossing 

Lake Superior. Just like you see every year at this time. Sure.

Yesterday was primary day in a few states, and mostly it went smoothly, with one glaring exception: Georgia. If you'll recall, in 2018, the last election Georgia had, the Republican secretary of state, Brian Kemp, was running for governor while simultaneously overseeing the election. He refused to recuse himself, which is bad enough, but he also ensured his own victory by removing hundreds of thousands of names from the voter rolls. And I'm not exaggerating that number: it was at least 340,000. And those are just the ones that were improperly purged; another 200,000 or so were properly purged. Also he blocked the registration of more than 50,000 new voters that year. You'll never, ever, ever guess what most of those voters had in common. (If you guessed that most of them are not white, you are correct.) Ugly story short, this bullshit worked, and Kemp was sworn in as governor. I refuse to say he won, and Stacey Abrams, the Democrat in the race, never conceded either, because she also knew it was bullshit.

Anyway. 2020 is a new year, right? We're living in the future now. But because of the utterly terrible way the 2018 Georgia election was conducted, courts ordered Georgia to get new voting machines. The contract went to a politically connected (by which I mean connected to Brian Kemp) firm, and the rollout of the new system has been an unmitigated disaster (by design). People were waiting in line for hours and hours, many polling places were closed entirely, others didn't have any (!!!!) voting machines or paper ballots. The last voter in the state cast a ballot at 12:37 a.m., technically not even Election Day anymore. That's 5 hours and 37 minutes after the polls officially closed. And as you may know, you have to be in line before poll closing and stay in line in order to get your vote counted. So that person was there, standing in line, for AT LEAST 5 hours and 38 minutes. Here's today's front page of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

Yep, just a normal day in America.

This kind of chaos isn't new (see the Wisconsin primary), and it's 100% designed to suppress turnout to advantage Republicans. There is absolutely no doubt. But these true patriots were determined to have their voices heard, and I'm thankful for each and every one of them. So is Chef Jose Andres:

I will definitely be donating to help support that effort. Listen, we live in a red state, so we don't have to worry about a lot of this crap (because Republicans *want* Hoosiers to vote since they're largely conservative). Mike and I both voted by mail in the primary. It was so easy! And the only reason we can't have that on a national level is that Republicans know they can't win fairly, so they'll cheat their way to every advantage. And they'll keep a straight face as they claim the mantle of honor, patriotism, law, and order.

One last piece of news for today: Governor Holcomb just announced that as of Friday, Indiana will move into phase four of Racing to the Second Wave Back on Track Indiana. Two days early, you guys! Because we've done SO WELL at flattening the curve. Or something. Take comfort, Hoosiers! You are now allowed to have gatherings of up to 250 people, just in time for those June weddings! Restaurants can operate at 75 percent capacity! Bars, nightclubs, museums, zoos, and movie theaters can operate at 50 percent capacity! The all-important auto and bike racing venues can operate at 50 percent capacity! You can take your kids to the playground now because they're all REOPENING! And last but not least, get ready to LOSE SOME MONEY, because casinos are opening back up, baby!

Nationwide cases: 1,996,980. Deaths: 112,726.

covid diary: day 90

How does your garden grow?

So, it's been 90 days. Three months. Has anything really changed?

In terms of the pandemic, not really. New York went up, New York came down. Now other states are going up and up in terrifying ways (looking at you, Arizona). The big difference is that the federal government isn't even talking about it anymore. They just want to pretend like it's solved, a victory for them. Meanwhile, 2 million people in the United States have been infected with the virus, and 112,000 have died.

112,000 have died. In. Three. Months.

And that's not even taking into consideration the people who had severe cases but recovered. What long-term consequences will they have? Will they require continuing treatment? Nobody knows because this is so new.

And still I hear people say that most people recover, and the only ones who get really sick are the people with preexisting conditions. As if that's okay. Think about it. In my house alone, four out of the five of us have preexisting conditions that would put us at greater risk. That's right, four, so it's not just my fat ass who could get really sick. Liam has pretty bad allergies, as does Henry, and let's not forget that Henry was premature. He's a perfectly healthy 10-year-old now, but preexisting conditions don't go away. So the "preexisting people are the ones who get really sick" argument doesn't hold water for me, because that's *exactly* why we need to be extra careful: to protect people with risk factors that could lead to them getting really sick or even dying.

I know people who went on vacation last month, and I know people who are going on vacation this month. And I get it, people have different tolerance for risk for different activities, and they are well within their rights to go wherever and whenever they feel comfortable. But for me, that means we can't spend time with people who have a much higher risk tolerance than we do. We just can't. I've said it from the beginning, that even if we knew we wouldn't get super sick ourselves, it's not worth the risk of exposing the people we love. Or anyone else.

So in conclusion, if you want to go on vacation, or stop wearing a mask, or go to a party or a wedding or a funeral or even a protest, that's great! You do you. Be as safe as you can, have fun, and we'll see you ... sometime later. Outside. With lots of space between us.

Listen, going to the pool is terrifying enough, and I literally do not touch any surfaces there. I'm usually the only one in the pool, and as soon as I get out of the pool I put my mask on and get the heck out of there. It's probably the lowest risk/highest reward thing I can do, but I still worry every time.

And this afternoon, we expanded our risk horizons because the boys had dentist appointments for their six-month cleanings/checkups. Here's how that worked: We parked the car and I called to let them know we were here. Once they were ready for the boys, they called them into the office, where they had to wash their hands and get a temperature screening. I stayed out in the car. They called about 20 minutes after the boys went in to say that Max had a cavity* and to ask permission to just fill it right on the spot so we wouldn't have to make another trip in and risk further exposure (to us or to them). I agreed, so they did the filling. Liam and Henry had no cavities, so they came back out to the car when they were done, and we waited for Max to finish. I talked to the office about scheduling their next appointment, and they scheduled it and sent the reminder cards out with Max when he was finished.


*Noting because he is very sensitive about this: Max has gotten a cavity in each of his molars before it has even come in. It's not something he's doing wrong in terms of dental hygiene. The dentist doesn't know why it has happened, so that's just the way it is. Luckily I think he's almost done getting new teeth.

Nationwide cases: 1,979,813. Deaths: 112, 006.

covid diary: day 89

Coronavirus cases are spiking in 21 states, with several states (California, North Carolina, Arkansas, Arizona, Oregon) reporting the highest one-day increases in cases today. Indiana isn't among the 21 states, but I should note that locally (that is, in our county), our cases have doubled in the past week and are increasing at a high rate. This isn't over. It's far from over, but somehow it's not even close to being a national story anymore. And in some ways I think that's appropriate, because there truly is also a crisis in the way black people in this county continue to be treated. But also it says something important that huge crowds all over the country are willing to risk spreading infection or getting sick in order to be heard. That's how vital it is that we make some real systemic changes.

Particularly since we keep seeing more and more police violence in response to peaceful protests. There are videos of police slashing people's tires, beating people, shooting them directly with tear gas and rubber bullets, pushing them down and kneeling on them. Arresting anyone they want to. And inevitably, they then try to lie about it and blame the person they abused for "resisting" or "looting" or "being out past curfew" or whatever. Until video evidence emerges, and they have to walk back their lies, but they still largely face no consequences. This is state terrorism, and it can't be ignored. We need to radically change policing in this country from top to bottom.

At home, the weekend was pretty quiet. Liam spent most of his time at Klaudia's apartment dog-sitting for Judah. I spent most of my time working inside, and Mike spent his working outside. Max and Henry spent their weekend devising some kind of quest for themselves in the Animal Crossing game. My parents stopped by Sunday night because they found a ceramic bird bath for me (yay!) at Bailey's discount center, plus my mom made the boys more masks that are socially appropriate. 

Also Sunday night, my cousins Dylan and Cass made a cousins quiz challenge using Google docs, and it was downright delightful. Which cousins had pet ferrets? Who went to which school? Which cousin caused Uncle Kent to get so mad that he threw a Disney princess slipper at the offending child? Which Fort boy came up with the cuss "BF" for when "BS" just isn't strong enough? I loved every minute of that quiz, and unlike the ancestors one Chris did a few weeks ago, this one I actually did pretty well on. 

Mike is laid off again this week, which sucks but also doesn't suck because it gives him a chance to finish putting in his plants and doing other outside work, which makes him happy. This afternoon, he came inside filthy and exhausted but grinning about the number of things he managed to get done. So there's at least one silver lining.

Nationwide cases: 1,961,185. Deaths: 111,007

covid diary: day 86

Last night, more peaceful protesters across the country got tear gassed, beaten with batons, flash banged, harassed, and assaulted by the police. I woke up to harrowing videos of the police just attacking people for no damned reason at all, pulling commuters out of their cars and people off their bikes. Kicking people in the face while they sat on the street not resisting at all. In Buffalo, New York, a 75-year-old man wearing a mask approached the police, and before he had time to say anything, an officer shoved him so hard that he lost his balance, fell backward onto the sidewalk, cracking his head (the video had sound, and it was sickening) and losing consciousness. This man lay there bleeding from the head, and the police just looked at him and walked past. DOZENS of police. The last report I saw said the man was in critical condition with a brain injury. The police initially claimed that he tripped and fell, and only when the video was widely shared online did the officer get suspended. THIS is why people are protesting. The police are a militarized force who aren't there to keep the peace but to terrorize the citizenry. They're attacking journalists, legal observers, elected officials, young people, old people, people of every color. They're only making the protests grow in size as more and more people realize how unjust policing is.

Meanwhile, the president gave a press conference today because somehow the unemployment number went down (for white people) in May. I'd like to see the math on how you lose 40 million jobs but somehow unemployment is down, but I guess that's a different story. During his press conference, while talking about the unemployment numbers (let's be clear, that's what he was talking about), Trump said: "Hopefully George [Floyd] is looking down right now and saying this is a great thing that’s happening for our country. This is a great day for him, it’s a great day for everybody. This is a great day for everybody. This is a great, great day in terms of equality."

OK WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS THAT? It's a great day for George Floyd??? On account of more white people have jobs? And even if George Floyd was happy about the unemployment numbers (doubtful, since he had lost his job in the pandemic), he still wouldn't be having a great day on account of him having been murdered by the police. Listen, it's been three and a half years of this president saying terrible things, but this might be the most terrible.

It's the end of another workweek, which I suppose is good. Mike worked this week, but he's laid off again for the upcoming week. Liam is off dog-sitting for Klaudia's dog, Judah, for the weekend. I drove him over there today. I had heard that there were protests here in Plymouth outside the courthouse, so I decided to drive by on my way home and honk my support (I'm not physically going out to protest because of the risk of exposure to COVID-19, but I will happily support anyone who feels that's within their risk tolerance). Look, there were a lot of people out there!

Also there were some counter-protesters across the street displaying their MAGA best. The open shirt, too-small bike, and shitty signs are all very nice touches.

BUT WAIT! I got stopped at the light, and in between honks and people chanting "I can't breathe," I heard someone call my name. I looked, and it was Laura! And Kelsey! And Emma! And Gracie! My honks became extra enthusiastic and I teared up with pride. I texted Laura after I got home to tell her how awesome it was that she was there with the girls. She texted back: "Kelsey, Emma, and Gracie all wanted to go. I think they're growing up with the right values!" I couldn't agree more.

Nationwide cases: 1,898,401. Deaths: 109,137.

covid diary: day 85

Every week, there comes a point where I just don't feel like I can catalog one more awful thing. Usually I make myself keep writing, because I know that if I stop for one day, it might turn into two days, and then a week, a month, longer. Sometimes I ask Mike to do the writing for the day instead. But every week there's that point where I think I can't do this anymore.

And then I think of the people who literally can't do this anymore. The 108,000 people who have died from COVID-19. The untold numbers of black people killed by police. And I think of the people out there who have been protesting for 10 days now, and how so many of those people have been working for years and years and years for the same goal of justice. They've been largely ignored, but they haven't stopped fighting. They haven't stopped working.

But it's important to take a breath, too. To write that this morning I went to the pool again and I'm so grateful to be able to do that. And yesterday I held my great-nephew for the first time and remembered what it's like to be trusted with something so precious, even if only for an hour. Emeri is biracial, so I have the same worries for him that I have for my boys, but also another layer of worry for the prejudices he'll have to face that are just baked into our whole American experience. But at least for now, he only knows love and care. I wish I could keep it that way for him. Not just for him, for everyone. I realize that as a white person I benefit from this system, but if I could, I would tear it all down and build something that's truly just for everyone.

I would Tear. It. All. Down.

Nationwide cases: 1,872,660. Deaths: 108,211.

covid diary: day 84

Hey so remember yesterday (seems like a year ago) when I said that there was one Christian religious group Trump hadn't yet managed to piss off? Welp. Today we got a quote from fundamental Christian televangelist Pat Robertson, who said of Trump sending the troops in against protesters, "It isn't cool." Of course, Pat Robertson also said that devastating tornadoes were God's punishment for people's lack of prayer; that the slaves in Haiti made a pact with the devil to win independence from the French, so God sent them the 2010 earthquake; and that Satanists and homosexuals were behind the Nazi agenda ... among other greatest hits. So you might want to consider the source.

But I'll grant that it definitely isn't cool to post all these troops on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. And it's definitely not cool to call in soldiers armed with bayonets (bayonets!!) to quell the right to free assembly.

Protests continue across the country, and show no signs of stopping, although supposedly there was less violence last night than there has been during previous nights. And listen, I live in a majority white town, in a majority white county, in a majority white state. And I'm a middle-aged white lady with some preexisting conditions that make it highly unlikely that I'm going to go out and march with protesters and use my white body as a shield. But that's not all I can do. I can (and do) read black writers and listen to black speakers and listen to my black friends. I can (and do) donate to bail funds so protesters don't have to go bankrupt protesting a system that's designed to keep them impoverished. I can (and do) keep learning how to be a better ally. And most importantly, I can (and do) have conversations with my boys to make sure they understand the fuller context of what's happening and to do my damnedest to teach them so they don't grow up to perpetuate systems of racism that harm and disadvantage people of color. If nothing else, they will understand the privilege they have as white men and why it's so important to be an ally to and amplify the voices of people who don't have that level of privilege.

So that's the plan. Keep them safe, keep them alive, teach them how to be good men.

Nationwide cases: 1,851,520. Deaths: 107,175.

covid diary: day 83

“God is always on the side of the oppressed. Mr. President,
I promise your hands are too small to box with God.”
Rev. George C. Gilbert Jr. of Holy Trinity United Baptist Church in D.C.

photo: Heidi Thompson

Last night, the president of these United States gave a press conference, where he threatened to use the U.S. military to attack U.S. citizens protesting on U.S. soil. Yes, that's a lot of repetition but it bears repeating: he threatened to send the military to attack the people of his own country. And he did it. While he was speaking in the Rose Garden, various police/National Guard/Secret Service tear-gassed peaceful protesters across the street in Lafayette Park without warning, throwing flash-bang grenades and coming in on horseback to drive the protesters from the park. And it turns out they did this at the president's direction, so the president could walk from the White House across the park to St. John's Episcopal Church (aka the Church of the Presidents) so he could pose in front of the church with a bible in hand.

He attacked American citizens so he could have a photo op.

Not just protesters. The clergy members at St. John's, who had been giving refuge and welcome to the protesters all day on the patio of the church, were tear-gassed and driven from their own church so the president could stand there and hold up a bible. (Reporters: "Is that your personal bible?" Trump: "It's a bible.") Episcopal bishops have denounced the president's violence and opportunism and false idolatry in no uncertain terms. But will it make a difference? No, because this man is beyond shame.

Because of the weirdness of our laws, unless he invokes the Insurrection Act of 1807, Trump can't override the governors or send military to perform police actions on American soil (the law that says he can't do that is the Posse Comitatus Act of 1878, and the only way he can override it is to invoke the Insurrection Act). HOWEVER, Washington, D.C., isn't a state, and doesn't have a governor, so the president felt free to send in the troops last night. They used a military Blackhawk helicopter to fly low over the protesters. Here's how the New York Times explains it: "As scores of protesters made their way into Washington D.C.'s Chinatown district, a Blackhawk helicopter with U.S. Army markings descended to rooftop level, kicking up dirt, debris, and snapping trees that narrowly missed several people. The maneuver, often conducted by low flying jets in combat zones to scare away insurgents, is known as a show of force."

Police drove the protesters from Lafayette Park into nearby neighborhoods, using tear gas, flash-bangs, clubs, and mace, then trapped them on a short street, blocked all avenues of escape, and started arresting people for violating the 7 p.m. curfew. (I mean, how exactly were they supposed to go home?) One man who lives in the neighborhood, a true American hero, urged nearly 100 protesters into his home, giving them shelter and asylum until the curfew was lifted at 6 this morning. The homeowner's name is Rahul Dubey, he's a 44-year-old first-generation Indian American, and he gave each protester one of his business cards as proof that they weren't trespassing (which the police tried to say they were). When he was asked by a Washington Post reporter by phone about the events of the night, Dubey said, "I opened a door. You would have done the same thing. ... If people like us aren't going to open a door, then who the fuck is?"

The protesters did get to go home this morning, but what a harrowing, traumatizing experience.

A brief word about the Insurrection Act of 1807. I did some reading on it today, and guess what? The law was created for the sole purpose of "defending" the country against black slaves who might rise up and demand their freedom. American slavers and the politicians leading slave states watched in fear as this happened during the Haitian Revolution, and they pressured the U.S. government to do something to ensure that "our" slaves couldn't rise up and do the same thing. The Insurrection Act has been invoked very infrequently by presidents. Most recently, it was invoked in 1992 by George H.W. Bush after the Los Angeles riots in the wake of the police beating of Rodney King. And now Trump wants to invoke it to take away the right of mostly black protesters to peacefully assemble. It's a through line, isn't it? Not surprising, but devastating and evil nonetheless.

This afternoon, Trump doubled down on his notion of "religious liberty" by showing up at the shrine of Saint John Paul II (or JPII, as Gramps used to fondly call him) to sign an executive order to "advance international religious freedom." By which, of course, he means only a specific kind of "Christian," and at the expense of all others. But hey! Archbishop Wilton Gregory had some words to say about this too. Look:

I find it baffling and reprehensible that any Catholic facility would allow itself to be so egregiously misused and manipulated in a fashion that violates our religious principles, which call us to defend the rights of all people even those with whom we might disagree. Saint Pope John Paul II was an ardent defender of the rights and dignity of human beings. His legacy bears vivid witness to that truth. He certainly would not condone the use of tear gas and other deterrents to silence, scatter or intimidate them for a photo opportunity.

So in 24 hours, he's royally pissed off the Episcopalians and the Catholics and the Baptists (these are VERY strong statements from organizations that usually try to stay above the fray). He doesn't even countenance the Jews/Muslims/atheists/etc. The one religious group he hasn't pissed off is ... oh let's see ... give me a minute ... it'll come to me ...

Anyway.

Mike went back to work yesterday, and word around the plant is that maybe they won't be laid off again next week. Yay? Or maybe they will. Boo? Or maybe some of them will and some of them won't. Apparently they really like playing this game where they keep everyone guessing until the last possible minute for no sensible reason.

Also of note: I went back to the pool this morning. I've been reading tons of articles about the risks, and thinking for weeks about how I could maybe do it with minimal risk because there are so many benefits. The system still needs a little bit of tweaking (like a waterproof barrier on my van seat instead of just a towel) but here's how it worked this morning: I arrived at 5:25 (pool opens at 5:30), put my mask on, went in through the revolving door, signed in on the keypad using a cotton swab instead of touching it, then walked through the workout areas, into and through the locker room, and into the showers. I hung my bag on a hook, took off my outer clothes (I was wearing my suit underneath), showered (it operates via sensor), took my bag with me into the pool and hung it on a hook, walked into the therapy pool, did my thing, grabbed my bag, went back to the showers, dried off quickly, put my outer clothes back on over my wet suit, put my mask back on, and got the heck out of there and came home to shower immediately. I don't think I actually touched any surfaces with my bare hands, and I was the only one in the therapy pool the whole time I was there. The lap pool had six people in the four lanes, but I don't swim, I do water walking, and the therapy pool is heated to 90 degrees and is glorious. In this picture it's in the foreground, with the lap pool in the back. I'll stop going if I feel like anything risky is going on, but for right now I think the benefits definitely outweigh the fairly minimal risk.

Nationwide cases: 1,831,730. Deaths: 106,180.

covid diary: day 82

one quiet corner of the United States

Welcome to level 6 of 2020! I can't wait until we get to the boss fight for this level.

So, quick recap: More than 100,000 people have died of COVID-19, people are protesting decades of institutional racism in general and the extrajudicial police killing of black people in particular, the police are shooting people IN THE FACE with rubber bullets (side note: Have you seen the size of those things? They're designed to be shot at the ground first, and they still come with extreme safety warnings.) and tear-gassing and flash-banging and driving their police vehicles into crowds with no regard for safety. The protests (and the police violence) are happening across the country. The New York Times created this handy map that I swiped to show you how many there are. Every red dot is a city with protests; every yellow state has called in the National Guard.

Joe Biden spent yesterday out listening to protesters in Wilmington, then he wrote in a statement: “We are a nation in pain, but we must not allow this pain to destroy us. We are a nation enraged, but we cannot allow our rage to consume us. We are a nation exhausted, but we will not allow our exhaustion to defeat us. The only way to bear this pain is to turn all that anguish to purpose. And as President, I will help lead this conversation — and more importantly, I will listen, just as I did today visiting the site of last night’s protests in Wilmington.”

Guess how Trump spent the day? If you guessed tweeting utter bullshit that does nothing but fan the flames, you're right! But wait, there's more! He also hid in the bunker under the White House and literally turned off the outside lights of the White House at night while fires burned and protesters demonstrated nearby. Did he offer any statements of reconciliation, understanding, or hope? He did not. In fact, multiple outlets are reporting that he and his advisors decided against him giving a speech from the Oval Office because he has no plan to make any of this better, and no desire to work toward bringing together a fractured nation. And today, on a conference call, he urged governors to get tougher with protesters, called the governors weak, and suggested that all protesters should have to serve 10-year jail sentences. Well, *that* will certainly fix the school-to-prison pipeline, won't it?

The nation's in turmoil but nobody's home here.

But also this morning, Barack Obama released a statement on Medium. Since links don't last forever, I'm going to post it here in its entirety.

As millions of people across the country take to the streets and raise their voices in response to the killing of George Floyd and the ongoing problem of unequal justice, many people have reached out asking how we can sustain momentum to bring about real change. 

Ultimately, it’s going to be up to a new generation of activists to shape strategies that best fit the times. But I believe there are some basic lessons to draw from past efforts that are worth remembering. 

First, the waves of protests across the country represent a genuine and legitimate frustration over a decades-long failure to reform police practices and the broader criminal justice system in the United States. The overwhelming majority of participants have been peaceful, courageous, responsible, and inspiring. They deserve our respect and support, not condemnation — something that police in cities like Camden and Flint have commendably understood. 

On the other hand, the small minority of folks who’ve resorted to violence in various forms, whether out of genuine anger or mere opportunism, are putting innocent people at risk, compounding the destruction of neighborhoods that are often already short on services and investment and detracting from the larger cause. I saw an elderly black woman being interviewed today in tears because the only grocery store in her neighborhood had been trashed. If history is any guide, that store may take years to come back. So let’s not excuse violence, or rationalize it, or participate in it. If we want our criminal justice system, and American society at large, to operate on a higher ethical code, then we have to model that code ourselves. 

Second, I’ve heard some suggest that the recurrent problem of racial bias in our criminal justice system proves that only protests and direct action can bring about change, and that voting and participation in electoral politics is a waste of time. I couldn’t disagree more. The point of protest is to raise public awareness, to put a spotlight on injustice, and to make the powers that be uncomfortable; in fact, throughout American history, it’s often only been in response to protests and civil disobedience that the political system has even paid attention to marginalized communities. But eventually, aspirations have to be translated into specific laws and institutional practices — and in a democracy, that only happens when we elect government officials who are responsive to our demands. 

Moreover, it’s important for us to understand which levels of government have the biggest impact on our criminal justice system and police practices. When we think about politics, a lot of us focus only on the presidency and the federal government. And yes, we should be fighting to make sure that we have a president, a Congress, a U.S. Justice Department, and a federal judiciary that actually recognize the ongoing, corrosive role that racism plays in our society and want to do something about it. But the elected officials who matter most in reforming police departments and the criminal justice system work at the state and local levels. 

It’s mayors and county executives that appoint most police chiefs and negotiate collective bargaining agreements with police unions. It’s district attorneys and state’s attorneys that decide whether or not to investigate and ultimately charge those involved in police misconduct. Those are all elected positions. In some places, police review boards with the power to monitor police conduct are elected as well. Unfortunately, voter turnout in these local races is usually pitifully low, especially among young people — which makes no sense given the direct impact these offices have on social justice issues, not to mention the fact that who wins and who loses those seats is often determined by just a few thousand, or even a few hundred, votes 

So the bottom line is this: if we want to bring about real change, then the choice isn’t between protest and politics. We have to do both. We have to mobilize to raise awareness, and we have to organize and cast our ballots to make sure that we elect candidates who will act on reform. 

Finally, the more specific we can make demands for criminal justice and police reform, the harder it will be for elected officials to just offer lip service to the cause and then fall back into business as usual once protests have gone away. The content of that reform agenda will be different for various communities. A big city may need one set of reforms; a rural community may need another. Some agencies will require wholesale rehabilitation; others should make minor improvements. Every law enforcement agency should have clear policies, including an independent body that conducts investigations of alleged misconduct. Tailoring reforms for each community will require local activists and organizations to do their research and educate fellow citizens in their community on what strategies work best. 

But as a starting point, here’s a report and toolkit developed by the Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights and based on the work of the Task Force on 21st Century Policing that I formed when I was in the White House. And if you’re interested in taking concrete action, we’ve also created a dedicated site at the Obama Foundation to aggregate and direct you to useful resources and organizations who’ve been fighting the good fight at the local and national levels for years. 

I recognize that these past few months have been hard and dispiriting — that the fear, sorrow, uncertainty, and hardship of a pandemic have been compounded by tragic reminders that prejudice and inequality still shape so much of American life. But watching the heightened activism of young people in recent weeks, of every race and every station, makes me hopeful. If, going forward, we can channel our justifiable anger into peaceful, sustained, and effective action, then this moment can be a real turning point in our nation’s long journey to live up to our highest ideals. 

Let’s get to work.

And there it is. Leadership.

Nationwide cases: 1,799,747. Deaths: 104,702.

covid diary: day 80

barn swallow wants to make a nest on the front porch

This Washington Post headline pretty much says it all: "Gripped by Disease, Unemployment, and Outrage at the Police, America Plunges into Crisis."

We watched last night as protests erupted in cities all over the country. The killing of George Floyd was the event that started them, but these protests are about much more than one incident. They're about years, decades, centuries of systemic racism in this country. They're about ingrained attitudes white people carry that allow them to dehumanize and disconnect from the humanity of people of color. We're all born into this racist system, and right now its effects have been laid bare in a way that simply cannot fail to get the attention of any white person with a shred of decency. Black people are suffering and dying disproportionately from COVID-19. They're suffering disproportionately from the effects of mass unemployment coupled with draconian cuts to the nation's safety net programs. They've lived for generations with the ripple effects from slavery, from segregation, from redlining, even from bias in standardized testing for students. It's always been there; it's just impossible to ignore in this moment.

The response to these protests has been really instructive. We've seen police arresting reporters (of color) for reporting on the protests in Milwaukee, police shooting pepper bullets at (women) reporters doing their jobs in Louisville, a white man tackling a (woman) reporter in Phoenix while she was in the middle of reporting on the protests. Police are tear gassing the crowds, firing rubber bullets and pepper bullets and indiscriminately spraying mace as they drive by.

We've also seen lawyers all across the country, in Minneapolis, Houston, Atlanta, New York, Los Angeles, offering to represent protesters pro bono if they get arrested. We've seen the Indian owners of the Gandhi Mahal restaurant in Minneapolis, which was next door to the third precinct police department and got damaged in the same fire that took out the police building, issue a statement that says, in part, "Let my building burn, justice needs to be served, put those officers in jail. ... Gandhi Mahal may have felt the flames last night, but our fiery drive to help protect and stand with our community will never die! Peace be with everyone." We've seen people from all over the world donate to bail funds and use whatever platforms they have to stand in solidarity with the protesters.

We've seen the president incite violence and try to blame this too on Democrats. And we've seen Joe Biden step up and express his deepest, truest empathy with the grief and despair being felt all over the nation. Listen, we all know that Joe Biden was never my choice for the Democratic nomination, but if there's one thing he's really, really great at, it's empathy. Joe Biden has experienced tremendous personal losses, and that enables him to connect with people who are hurting at a level that Trump could never even understand, let alone aspire to.

And just as a side note: My picks never end up being what actually happens, but if I could pick his running mate, it would be Rep. Val Demings (D-FL). So I'm going to lay down my marker, and we'll see what ends up happening. (Mike thinks Biden will choose Elizabeth Warren, who would also be excellent, as she is at everything she does, so I'll just lay down his marker now too.)

Much closer to home, cases of COVID-19 have nearly doubled in our county in the span of a single week since we entered phase whatever of the ridiculous Back on Track Indiana plan and everything started reopening. The increase has prompted our county health department to issue a warning to people to protect themselves. And Elkhart County, where my brother lives, was named by the NYT as one of the top 10 emerging hotspots in the country.

These are very scary times, friends.

Nationwide cases: 1,747,087. Deaths: 102,836.