All I wanted for the New Year was a break. Just a brief pause between the calamities …
If this title looks familiar, it originally covered the end of 2021. I have revised the last post to reflect that. This is the actual January 2022. COVID-19 January 1 – US cases today are 54,859,966, US deaths are 825,816. Vaccination rate is still at about 62%. Cases in CA are 386% over two weeksContinue reading “My Pandemic Year III: January 2022”
When I left my downtown Seattle office on March 11, 2020, it was beyond my imagining that a planned 30-day lockdown would extend into a 3rd calendar year. And yet, here we are.
This week I celebrated Dia de los Muertos, in person, at a couple of events in Seattle. I enjoyed dancing and food at the Waterfront event on October 23, and I had the entire room to myself to view the ofrendas at the Seattle Center on November 2. I learned a lot this year, whichContinue reading “My Pandemic Year II: November 2021”
The COVID-19 pandemic is far from over, but I think this journal is, at least for now. After a year that was 14 months long, it’s time to move on.
A month of many pages turning, most for the better, though eyes remain on a predicted 4th wave.
It’s Groundhog Day today…it’s been Groundhog Day every day since March 2020…
A new White House and a New Year begins, and vaccine fails begin as well…
The last few days of #45, massive security in DC, and the arrival of #46.
January brings unexpected events, most notably an insurrection at our nation’s capitol…
COVID-19 deaths average over 2,000 a day, and chatter about a March on DC in January. Christmas happens in spite of itself.
Deaths from COVID-19 continue to escalate. Biden wins the election. Trump continues to lose court cases. Crazy continues on numerous leels.
COVID-19 cases increases as does #45’s rhetoric. SCOTUS gets a new judge. A COVID-19 variant emerges.
We lose Justice Ginsberg, no time is wasted in filling her seat. Global deaths from COVID-19 reach 1 million.
A short set of journal entries for a month full of Blursdays.
John Lewis dies, Roger Stone is commuted, Portland Riots continue.
Protests continue, BLM goes global. The US reaches 2 million COVID-19 cases.
COVID dreams, masks and extended lockdowns. Holidays spent at home. Protests downtown. Dumpster fires begin.
Johns Hopkins establishes a dashboard. PPE in the news, mask making in the shop.
COVID-19 has arrived in Seattle.
February 2020 – First Journal Entry
There were 208 students in her graduating class. Wilma kept her tassel, foregoing the 25 cent refund for its return.
When I first entered high school, the principal had us write down what we would like to do when we graduated. I said “be a teacher.” Three weeks later I was in charge of the study hall…
I spent the summer of 1947 at Grandmother Purdy’s house at Ocean Park. What a wonderful summer it was, filled with fun and romance…
The war was still going on and things were hard to get. Dad bought land on Cascade Way in Longview to build a house on… Building supplies were scarce, but many things were found because Dad being in the grocery business…
For me, the War Years were the most exciting time. Sure, sacrifices had to be made on the home front, but people pulled together.
I joined the Girl Scouts when I was nine years old. My troop leader was a Cowlitz Indian woman named Maude Waunassay Snyder. She was a short, round lady and lived in a river house at the Cowlitz River in West Kelso.
Sometimes on Saturdays we would put on a variety act; she would dance and I would sing, and we would charge the neighborhood kids two cents admission. Carol and I would divide up the money and buy penny candy at the little store up the street.
I used to wash dishes at Gram’s hotel [the Sportsman’s Hotel] for a nickel, and then spent it for a Hershey candy bar, so Gram got her dishes done pretty cheap.
I was born at noon on September 25, 1908, and arrived before the doctor did. I think my mother was angry at me all of her life for that…
My next memory was of us living in a tiny house with a dirt floor… with kerosene lamps, and baths in a washtub placed near the wood-fueled cookstove.
“My earliest childhood memory was when I must have been two or three years of age. It was when my family lived in Colorado.”