Thank You!

An enormous Thank You! to the vast pool of people on the planet who brought the vaccines out of an idea 10+ years ago through inspiration, research, governments, companies, and resources that could all suddenly be harnessed in early 2020 in a Super Nova of creative, focused energy into a pandemic-stopper contained in a simple injectable substance.

Thank You! to everyone who bared their arm for the jab and all who are lining up here and globally to get theirs, too.

A relief. An immense gratitude for life-giving participants/recipients. All of them. No matter who you are or where you are. Thank You!

Yes, I know there are some of you who remain doubtful and some who oppose "vaxxing", as it's come to be called. You have your reasons, your own thoughts, and doubts. It's okay to have thoughts and doubts.

I'll share my thoughts and doubts with you... 

I'm nearly 82 now and am grateful that the complex where I live made the vaccine available to all residents early this year during the time I was being evaluated and treated for breast cancer. On the same day as my surgery, I received my first vaccine shot. The second vaccine shot was another dash from the jab to still another hospital procedure. During those weeks, what a relief, for me and for the personnel who must deal with my needs--who dealt and still deal with so many others' needs.

This part of my thoughts is not just about me. It's also about you. Most of all, it's about a virus that sees no borders, crosses continents, oceans, blows into the air from our human breath—like the warm fog breathed onto our car windows as we start our car on a cold winter morning. The virus is out there menacing all of us, no matter my thoughts and doubts, nor yours. My breath can infect you, your breath can infect me. The virus doesn't care whether it is you or it is me.

The virus infects with oblivion and eventually could reach every single person on the planet. Once inside its human host, this infinitely tiny entity replicates at insanely fast rates, and each time, there is a chance that a slightly different lineup of its building blocks can occur. Sometimes those will be benign, sometimes not and it births a "variant". But new variant or not, it’s a viral infection breathed into the air. The more it infects, all the more chances it gets.

For all our efforts—masks, separating ourselves from each other, cleaning, washing, loneliness, suffering, grieving, struggling, and at last vaccines—my doubts and concerns are that we’ve missed the chance to thwart the virus. That it will be with us for a very long time. That so many more will suffer or die from it. That we’ve not respected a tiny speck that sickens and kills humans. I worry we are missing a chance to drive the virus into its own dead end because it no longer can find someone to infect. 

So many here and everywhere in the world remain unvaccinated. Will we have years and years of serious outbreaks?

This is why I didn't hesitate to be immunized when the vaccine became available to me. If my jabs keep even one child, or one loved one, or one friend, or one other human from virus harm or death, it's profoundly worth it. 

I pray to whatever spirit is out there, that enough vaccinations will take place here and throughout the world so this mean, little Covid speck can't kidnap another person's body to breathe disease into a fresh human being to sicken and kill them. That Covid finds its own dead end.

If you feel bad about all of this, know that I do, too. Sometimes, I'm profoundly sad that Covid sickened, harmed, and killed so many. I hope you are never infected. Every last one of you is worth the shots I got.

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Life is opening up a little bit. We could comfortably gather for John's birthday; the four of them and a couple who have been friends. They are part of the family's bubble. They helped secure vaccine appointments for Wendy, John, and Aidan. Keoni found his earlier in upstate New York--almost a day's drive away--twice!

Aidan outdid himself on his baking/dessert pandemic career. His cheesecake for his dad was so good that it set a new benchmark by which all other cheesecakes must be measured...

Walks at the farm, visiting the dogs and Toby, the animals; brief outdoor chats with the family have been stability mainstays during these months of near isolation. Now with all vaccinated, we can sit down together for a dinner. We planned John's birthday outside but the rain came and we moved onto the back porch. It was all good.

Spring's skies, green, and the yellow flowers have been luscious. 

Wendy's garden is all in. Now it's all maintenance.

Keoni took this on one of our walks.

Over in Utah, Elijah and his parents and brother have been at far out-of-town tournaments for a big change from their isolated pandemic mode. Kingston has had his first experience of school as his Kindergarten moved from virtual to in-person this spring. 

Elijah has kept up his basketball skills and had some good games. His season is over for a while but he'll be back at it before we know it, I'm sure.

I've put seeds on the bedroom windowsill outside for over a month. The squirrels have loved it and at last, the birds have found it.

In Tucson, Paula added to her art journal of the trip they took just prior to the pandemic. You can see the addition here...

Paula's New Zealand Visual Trip Journal. Day 21: Hobbit Hole, Hobbiton 

Aidan and Keoni made their choices for next fall. Aidan will go to the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music for cello performance. Keoni will pursue another post-graduate degree from Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. A hearty congratulations to them both for all their work and perseverance that made this possible. And applause to their parents for the love and support over the years that led to all of this.

Keoni sent this from where he often stayed in NYC at his friend Joey's apartment.

My pen and ink sketch of a favorite farm view.

*

Also in Tucson, Gloria sent this of her pink cactus blooms from the pups I gave her a long time ago. I am bowing my head now as I think of Gloria's sister Deanna. She passed away and the next morning these 30 blossoms opened in Gloria's yard.

Remembering Deanna.

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