The pandemic made Maya lose her mojo for sewing, she said.
Mari wrote that she was in deep despair.
I understood but did not share their despondency.
So we have to isolate. That is all. We quilters are good with that. Work and Play continued.
Paul supplied all the hugs and my life went on largely unaffected.
Infections soared and death toll hit an ominous milestone while lies and misinformation flowed fast and free. There was no news that was not directly or indirectly related to the pandemic - what led to it, who is responsible for it, how do we see our way out of it...and so on.
On Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, one of the participants joked - I'd love a "toddler fell down a well" story right about now. Paul and I laughed.
And then there were stories. Yes, non-pandemic stories. And I could not wish them away.
And now I am in deep despair. I have no mojo. And I am a mess as I type this. But I must.
I know I will get it together, dry my tears and wipe my snot on the sleeve of the t-shirt and begin sewing again. But not now. Not this minute.
Right now I am going to cry and scream. I am going to mourn the killing of Ahmaud Arbery and I am going to grieve over the cruel murder of George Floyd.
I am saddened and I am angry and I am frustrated. Mostly I am disgusted.
What is the color of sorrow? Anger may be red but what is the color of disgust?
Why is hatred so white and why is hopelessness so black?
I am in this deep pit of sorrow and despair.
Is there any hope? Yes.
I listened to Jacob Frey, the Mayor of Minneapolis, and I saw hope, in spite of his brutal honesty.
Is there anything I can do? Yes.
Here is a list of things that I can do.
If you know of any quilters honoring these black men and their memories, please let me know.
Although the vaccine for Covid-19 is in the works and will become available within a year, I don't know if America will ever have a vaccine to prevent racism.
Here is a community poem shared on NPR - echoing some of my thoughts but with greater eloquence.
https://www.npr.org/2020/05/27/862339935/running-for-your-life-a-community-poem-for-ahmaud-arbery
I wish it was just the pandemic...
Mari wrote that she was in deep despair.
I understood but did not share their despondency.
So we have to isolate. That is all. We quilters are good with that. Work and Play continued.
Paul supplied all the hugs and my life went on largely unaffected.
Infections soared and death toll hit an ominous milestone while lies and misinformation flowed fast and free. There was no news that was not directly or indirectly related to the pandemic - what led to it, who is responsible for it, how do we see our way out of it...and so on.
On Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, one of the participants joked - I'd love a "toddler fell down a well" story right about now. Paul and I laughed.
And then there were stories. Yes, non-pandemic stories. And I could not wish them away.
And now I am in deep despair. I have no mojo. And I am a mess as I type this. But I must.
I know I will get it together, dry my tears and wipe my snot on the sleeve of the t-shirt and begin sewing again. But not now. Not this minute.
Right now I am going to cry and scream. I am going to mourn the killing of Ahmaud Arbery and I am going to grieve over the cruel murder of George Floyd.
I am saddened and I am angry and I am frustrated. Mostly I am disgusted.
What is the color of sorrow? Anger may be red but what is the color of disgust?
Why is hatred so white and why is hopelessness so black?
I am in this deep pit of sorrow and despair.
Is there any hope? Yes.
I listened to Jacob Frey, the Mayor of Minneapolis, and I saw hope, in spite of his brutal honesty.
Is there anything I can do? Yes.
Here is a list of things that I can do.
If you know of any quilters honoring these black men and their memories, please let me know.
Although the vaccine for Covid-19 is in the works and will become available within a year, I don't know if America will ever have a vaccine to prevent racism.
Here is a community poem shared on NPR - echoing some of my thoughts but with greater eloquence.
https://www.npr.org/2020/05/27/862339935/running-for-your-life-a-community-poem-for-ahmaud-arbery
I wish it was just the pandemic...