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NJTF1 Spotlight: Reflections on Asheville and Natural Disasters (The Annie/Joe podcast)

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This September, as with many previous Septembers over the last decades, Joe was “on call” for New Jersey Task Force 1 (NJTF-1) for hurricane response. We are going on 30 plus years of doing this dance in our house, as he has been a first responder for all of our married life, and has been on many deployments for hurricanes in the last 25 years, including the devastating Hurricane Katrina in 2005.

I have always talked about this with family and friends, and I felt people were fairly informed about what this work was and why he was committed to it. (Even after his “retirement” from West Windsor Emergency Services two years ago). I was struck this time around by how my “outer circle” (not necessarily my inner circle of close friends or family members) didn’t know, or maybe just hadn’t paid attention to, what New Jersey Task Force 1 was, or what it is they do exactly. And for this particular event, since it was so high profile, I won’t go so far as to say that people wondered if he was just driving down to North Carolina in his car to help (maybe not that extreme…) but I was definitely fielding more questions.

In the spirit of giving these dedicated first responders more visibility, after so many years as a pragmatic wife actively watching these deployments, and getting some information from family “debriefs” afterwards, I decided to interview Joe. (What could possibly go wrong?) Armed with new tools to record and transcribe our discussion, and a notepad of my hand-crafted questions, both personal in nature, and questions a larger audience would ask, I did my best journalist impression. We sat together on our couch (with our cats, naturally), and talked about Asheville, NJTF1, training tactics, comparisons to Hurricane Katrina, and many other insights about their work. In 30 years, I will say I have picked up some nuggets of information, but I learned even more in this conversation.

Here’s how it went.

Me: Give me your best elevator speech about what NJTF1 is and what it is you do, exactly.

Joe: New Jersey Task Force 1 is a group that has existed since before 9/11, actually one of the first structural collapse teams to go to the World Trade Center on 9/11 was NJ-TF1. There are now 28 FEMA USAR teams that specialize in major building collapse. The kind of damage that would overwhelm local resources and fire departments. The teams are made up of many components – the rescue component is the largest (very elite) and supporting them are a planning group, a logistics group, a search group, including trained search dogs, a communications group, a medical group and the hazmat group. I am in the hazmat group. The job of hazmat is to make sure that there’s nothing that’s going to harm our team and that they will be able to work. Imagine if an entire building collapses, with everything in the building mixes together. Surfside Towers is probably the most recent large example of that. Everything that is underneath your kitchen sink comes together and creates harmful gasses. In my component, it’s our job to answer two questions – can the rescue group work there, or can they not work there? If we determine that there is some kind of danger – chemically, we have to come up with a fix so that rescuers can work there.

The problem is not going away. We have to figure that out. One of the hazmat component’s first jobs, when we get to a collapse site, is to go out with the original recon and dogs to identify any hazards. Chemical hazards that could be harmful to people or the search dogs are identified by hazmat. The second skillset is water rescue. The members trained in water rescue come from any of the components.

Me: Kind of a long elevator speech – but we’ll just say we were riding to the top of the Empire State building. What is the average length of experience for the members of NJTF1?

Joe: 15 years is probably the least experience. There are 240 people on the team, the State of New Jersey has a lot of fire departments, police and rescue squads. We have the cream of the crop of those. NJ-TF1 existed as a state team before we were picked to fill an empty FEMA USAR team slot. We had trained like FEMA USAR teams prior to this. It was an easy transition.

Me: Just to clarify, not all 200 plus people are deployed at the same time.

Joe: No, only ever one third of the team goes out. A “type 1 team” which was deployed for Hurricane Helene is 80 people. Every month the “Red” “White” or “Blue” team is up, and we rotate.

When we went to North Carolina, our mission was split into two rescue modes. It was known Asheville was going to be hit by the remnants of the storm, with a lot of tornadoes and severe weather as a probability. So, half the group concentrated on the water rescue, and the other half of the group concentrated on elements like trees into buildings, and helping the Asheville Fire Department out with the probability that tornadoes were going to come through. Our team ultimately didn’t get to go to any of the areas up in Tennessee or places like that, because the floods made Asheville an island. There was no way in and out.

Me: You were staged in Asheville because they knew that potential?

Joe: Yes, we went to Asheville for disaster staging before the storm hit. That happens a lot. It varies where we will be staged. Every fall when the hurricanes come through, there’ll be a line of these teams, for example New York, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey – we will all be somewhere in the path. Sometimes two or three of the teams work, and one team that has set up doesn’t get the work. It’s just the luck of the geographic draw. Planners do their best to pre-stage the teams where the damage is likely to happen. Sometimes all three get to work, or all three don’t actually do anything, because a storm veers off. Occasionally the storm ends up not as bad as they thought it was going to be. Then we turn around and come back. The nature of the business.

Me: Let’s talk about Asheville in particular. So you’re there, in a hotel, waiting for the storm to come. And I realize the hotel was a bit of a luxury, sometimes you’re in gymnasium or a parking lot in a high school, on a cot. So, the storm hits, it’s done, and in this case, it was really terrible. What happens that next day?

Joe: The planning group and our upper-level managers got together with the Asheville Fire Department, and we responded out with them to various calls, they had a couple of chiefs and captains assigned just to us because we don’t know the area. Roads are blocked by trees and flooding, we don’t know how to get around so the guides figure that out. That morning, I was on the “water” side, the “collapse” side of the team stood by at the hotel with their equipment. A couple of representatives went down to the fire headquarters to coordinate with them so they would know our capabilities. We divided into two groups with our boats and the Asheville boats, and then each had a fire captain escorting us around, and who monitored their radio frequency.

Our group saved a couple of people who were washed away, and another woman who basically rode her house down and then it got destroyed when it hit a bridge. She was in the house, then on top of the house, and then she found herself in the water, finally on top of an overseas container that was pinned up against another bridge further down the river. Now, normally this river was not very wide and only feet deep. This event caused it to rise up 28 feet and way over its banks.

The other boat crews were literally picking people up off the third story of their condos. They found themselves chasing houses down to make sure no one was in there, before they came to a bridge or other obstacle to crash into it.

Me: And you don’t even know what other debris could be underneath the water.

Joe: Not really, So, that was the first day, and then the water started going down.

Me: How long did you work that day?

Joe: Really only from daylight to nighttime. Because then it is too dangerous, and the water had started receding by then. The next day was a lot of walking around in the mud, as well as some boat action in the water. Now we had both halves of the team, since the tornado threat was over, the structural collapse side was available, and we had the full 80 people out, working on two different sides of the river, basically looking for people who are possibly stuck in trees, cars, still looking for live victims. We found some. Same with day 3,4,5….

Me: Does that ever get routine?

Joe: No, but we get better at it. [Laughs]. Those are the days of methodical searches. Land based, a lot of walking, working with the dogs. The dogs would hit on something, and if we believed that there was someone or something in there, and if it was a pile of sticks or debris all jammed up, we would have to take all of that apart. The team is really good at that. We’ll work with heavy equipment, as well as with saws, axes, and pry bars. People from the hazmat component will be sent out with the various squads to assist, but another bunch of us will stay back, because everybody comes back filthy. You don’t want to bring all of the oils, and nastiness and all the stuff they’ve been walking/slogging around in back to where you live in the hotel. All of that is happening miles away from where we sleep.

I was in the group in charge of cleaning and deconning everybody, and deconning the equipment, because you really need to clean everything everyday. You can’t let it build and build and build. If we didn’t by day four someone may be using a saw that is just covered with nasty stuff (technical term). We’re not talking just about chemicals, we’re talking about possible biological or radioactive filth.

Me: Can you describe how the fact that there was no water available to you was impactful to this process?

Joe: We lost water at the hotel too, when a dam burst, it took out the water plant. For six days, back at the hotel we filtered the water from the pool, so we were able to have showers – that was a luxury. (Not hotel showers…) We were without power for three days – which is not bad. But I’ll take a soft bed without power over sleeping on a cot any day.

Me: What about food?

Joe: Food was not a problem. Our logistics guys and our managers would drive to the Waffle House, like, four towns away, but they managed to get 80 meals to go! Other times they would come back with food and we would grill, or we always had the MRE’s, which we travel with. We are set up to live for 72 hours without any help. We have our own water and our own food. So this time with beds and waffle house meals, it was easy.

Me: So…Waffle House was open. [Laughs]. You know, Shannon says there is some TikTok barometer about the Waffle House being open in areas of Natural Disasters.

Joe: Yes, Waffle House is always open. If the Waffle House is closed, and Jim Cantore is your neighborhood, things are bad. And yeah, this time, we had a lot of Waffle House meals.

Me: Sometimes people ask me if they can send things to you, or help out in some way. I usually direct them towards giving money to the relief funds appropriately, but is that the best route?

Joe: We are well taken care of. State and Federal Taxes support our team and we’re supported by the State of NJ Office of Emergency Management as well as Federal Emergency Management Agency. Also – when we have to be, we are very resourceful. We’ll make something work out of almost nothing, because people are very clever on our team.

Me: What about communications? Obviously there was no cell service or communications after the storm hit.

Joe: We travel with a communication component. The communications team are technical people who set up our own communications – we have our own comm truck, we’ll tie into Starlink, or we’ll tie into AT&T, or whatever FEMA has set up. We can talk to people on our radios, and if I can’t use my personal cell phone for four days, it’s not a problem if something happens. If you have to get a hold of me, there are channels for you to do that.

Me: Yes, I just talk to Kerry. [Laughs].

Joe: Yes, Mike is a boss so he had a satellite phone. Right.

Me: So, I never worry tremendously because there are two things you have told me that I always remember, and repeat to myself – and these help me in regular life too. One is that you are on a team. You are never by yourself, and all of you look out for each other. I recognize some freak thing could happen, but I choose not to think about that. The second thing you have always said is that “It’s not my emergency.”

Joe: Yeah, I recognize that attitude sounds kind of callous. But it enables us to do our job, right? You have train your mind to step aside to think logically and critically.

Me: Is there anything that could prepare you to see a house coming down the river like that?

Joe: People on the team were asking me, as someone who has a lot of flood experience, including Hurricane Katrina, Hurricane Florence, Harvey, those responses – have you ever seen anything like this? The answer was “No. Nobody has seen anything like this since the Johnstown Flood of 1889”, you know? A wall of water that came down like that and just took everything with it, and then brought the remnants of that town down and smashed into other towns as it went. We didn’t even get to see Chimney Rock, there was no way for us to get there. Also, there was enough work for us to do where we were.

Me: Was there anything you could have done to train for that?

Joe: I oversee the water training for the team and I do my best. They did great. They performed some heinous rescues in heinous conditions. I try to challenge them in the Delaware in the spring, and last week I had them out in little boats with 25 horsepower engines in 10 foot seas outside of Barnegat Inlet. [Laughs]. If we had to cross Pamlico Sound after a storm in North Carolina, they could do it. Nobody flipped any boats over, so we are doing great.

Me: Will you adjust any of your training from this? I mean, there may not be another 1,000 year flood in your liftetime, but…

Joe: A few things. Everybody I know who is involved in the National Weather Service says I’m in a good line of work. Storms like this are going to keep coming, and the indicators say this is going to become a norm. The 100 year, the 500 year flood – we’re going to have to alter our thinking on that.

Me: What about the disinformation that was being spread? (That there was no Federal government response in NC). Does that affect you in any way?

Joe: Not at all. At the time and in the moment, we don’t have any internet, we’re not watching the news, and our people at home are really good about not giving us bad news.

Me: True – Even though we’re all outraged in our own way. And you didn’t hear anything from people there?

Joe: No. Everyone was very glad that we were there. You don’t even have time to think about that, we’re busy doing our work. We have our briefings, do our work, and then have another briefing at night.

Me: So, in effect, it doesn’t impact you,

Joe: No. And remember that, FEMA will warn about disasters, send USAR Teams to them, but is really set up to help you out after the disaster. During our searching after the flooding, there were various FEMA groups arriving. Teams are searching different zones, there is great technology now to log and report data. We will check cars that have been abandoned in the flooding, tag it and mark it. This data goes back to Washington almost instantly. The planners then know what has been checked, and it helps them decide where teams are needed next. After day 1, FEMA is already getting information. Later, that info comes back to the City of Asheville in the form of money and resources, replacement of emergency equipment, or possibly help rebuilding the dam for the water or filtration plant.

We searched in hundreds of buildings, and 779 cars. There were a lot of piles of debris to disentangle. Planners take the info we and the other teams give them. They overlay pictures from the planes and helicopters with more data. This all helps FEMA planners know what has been covered.

Me: What do you do when you find deceased people?

Joe: We set up a temporary morgue, we remove them respectfully and contact the local agency’s medical examiner.

Me: You mentioned there is a medical team.

Joe: Yes, there are doctors, nurses and paramedics with us. They take care of any team member’s medical issues, gashes, cuts, things like that. They monitor and make sure we’re eating right and our mental health is coping. Should we find someone entrapped, the medics will aid the trapped victims as we are working to free them.

Me: People often say to me, when you’re not here, Oh, thank you for his service. I know they say this to you too, and you always say, you don’t have to thank me.

Joe: They’re just going to say it – it’s ingrained in our culture.

Me: You’re all very humble. That’s not a question…

Joe: Nobody is forced to do any of this. We’re all very committed and volunteered to do this job. You know how many hours I put into it, all the guys do the same.

Me: I always thank people, and generally say It’s a higher calling. There are so many good people who dedicate a lot of time to this. People are appreciative. How do you think about this in your “retirement”? [Laughs]

Joe: [Scoffs] Well, I just don’t go to the one job anymore.

Me: For you, How did this compare to Hurricane Katrina?

Joe: This was worse than Katrina. I have pictures from Katrina where we saw a Box Truck, a refrigerator truck, up in a big Cypress Tree. It was washed by the storm surge in the Bayou. We didn’t arrive there until day 8 after the storm. The damage had been done, we weren’t there during the event. This one, we actually saw the trucks go into the trees. We were there during the event.

Me: Did you know how bad it was when you were in the hotel?

Joe: We had pre-staged in worse hurricanes. But by the time this got up to where we were it was a Cat 1 hurricane or tropical storm winds. We were 4 miles outside of town, so we didn’t see the river flooding from there.

Me: If Asheville hadn’t been hit, would you have gone somewhere else?

Joe: We probably would have been sent somewhere else and assisted with search and rescue.

Me: I am sure the town of Asheville is immensely grateful that you were there, and for all your work.

Some facts: New Jersey Task Force 1 (NJ-TF1) was activated as part of the National Urban Search & rescue (US&R) Response System and deployed to support rescue and recovery operations in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene. This team, deployed as a Type 1 unit, included 80 highly trained members, three tractor-trailers, two box trucks, five F-450 utility vehicles, two crew carriers, an F-250 towing vehicle, two passenger vans, two utility terrain vehicles, and a fleet service truck. Additionally, a specialized water rescue component, comprising six boats with trailers and a water support trailer, enhanced the team’s ability to respond to flood-related emergencies.

They are dedicated professionals who are actual MacGyvers (my own description). They can handle anything that comes their way. New Jersey, and all the States that interact with them in Natural disasters, are grateful for them.

A couple of resources if you want to know more about the team, the website is https://www.njtf1.org/

A Video produced by CBS covering Hurricane Helene: https://www.cbsnews.com/philadelphia/news/hurricane-helene-new-jersey-search-and-resue/

Follow them on Social Media: https://www.facebook.com/READYNEWJERSEY Instagram: @readynj

Empty Nest and Nature Parallels

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This past April, my sister Chris was visiting me in New Jersey for a few days, and we took one of our usual walks together down near the Delaware River in Titusville. We walk and talk while listening to the birds, enjoying the river’s scenic vistas, and greeting people walking their dogs. This time we decided to do a slightly alternative loop and come back along the canal path. Along the way, we noticed a goose standing on the other side of the canal in the grassy area all alone. We wondered why he was so firmly rooted in his spot, when I noticed another goose near him nestled in the banks of the canal sleeping. Oh..! I exclaimed to Chris, and pointed this out. They are nesting! We stopped, hushed, and pondered the beautiful respite of the sleeping goose and her partner keeping watch, and quietly walked on our way.

I have lived along the Delaware River for over 30 years. I see Geese all the time on and along the river, and hear their significant and distinctive honks as they fly overhead in the fall, and of course I notice their goslings in the spring. (I also try to avoid their poop in the grass). But I have never noticed a nesting pair before in such plain sight in our area along the canal. After Chris went back home, I kept the routine of this same route on my daily walks, checking in on the patrolling Dad keeping watch, and the Mama Goose who so dutifully carried out her responsibility on the nest. I read that the female does not ever leave the eggs, not even to eat, until they are hatched. I found this very compelling, and I became totally invested in this pair of Geese. When I went away for a weekend, or I didn’t walk down there for a day or two, I worried – were they OK? Was the nest going to make it? Would their babies hatch?

Sometimes Dad Goose would be in the water, swimming back and forth. Sometimes he was on the grass, pacing or nibbling. Once I didn’t see him at all, and I did some pacing myself along the canal looking for him.

Since we weren’t sure exactly when they had nested, I wasn’t sure when to expect to watch for the babies. My research told me that it was about 28 days for the eggs to hatch, so in early May I was extra vigilant. I had my neighbors equally invested, and my husband even made a trip down to check on them and report back to me while I was away for a work trip. Chris and I texted frequently. How are the geese doing? Fine, I would say… saw the Dad swimming today.

One day, I noticed Mama Goose was no longer in the area where the nest was, and since it’s across the canal from the path, I couldn’t see much of it, though I noticed some feathers and disturbance in the grass. But I saw no evidence of the parents anywhere, which led me to wonder if they had abandoned the nest, or if some predator had gotten the eggs. Then, right before Mother’s Day, on one of my regular walks, a little voice told me to go the other direction on the canal path, which I did. Behold, these two geese walked up the banks in front of me with their two babies! They had made it! It was as if they were showing them off to me – I know, it seems ridiculous, but did I mention I was invested? It was a great Mother’s Day present.

My actions led me to wonder why I had spent so much time thinking and worrying about these geese this particular nesting season. What had changed in me to be so reflective about nature’s habits and plans, and most of all, these geese that are always present, but somehow now I suddenly see differently?

Along these same lines, I have vacationed in New Hampshire on Squam Lake since I was a very young child, and we have continued going up there with our kids over the past 25 years. I have long been fascinated by the Loons on Squam, their beauty, their behavior, their repertoire of various calls, and their habits in nesting and raising chicks together. When I was growing up in the 1970’s, loons were endangered, and we learned to respect them, watch our boat speed when we saw them in the water, and I would fall asleep to the sounds of their haunting wails on the lake. Last summer I made a visit to the Loon Preservation center, and I frequently go the Biologist’s talk every year at Rockywold Deephaven Camps where we stay. There is something compelling about them, but more recently, I have become more emotionally empathetic to their struggles in nesting and raising chicks together. It is very fraught.

I am at the time in my life, where I have not quite an “empty nest” – but I would say more of a “hybrid” nest. My kids are sometimes home, sometimes not, for varying periods of time. My son is still in college. I have joked with friends about the empty nest, is there such a thing? I remember my older brothers came and went frequently in our house as I was growing up, coming to live there for periods of time after they had graduated college. My husband Joe and I sort of brushed off the term “empty nesters” as a label, as it sounded sort of sad and hollow. Aren’t we still people with kids whether or not they happen to be living with us?

But I think what I have come to realize at this stage, is I now find some comfort in the pragmatism of nature and these parents in the wild. There is so much out of their control, and they do their best. Sometimes loons on squam have a successful nest, and raise their chick to fledge, but sometimes the nest gets flooded or the eggs don’t hatch, and they just move on, and try again the next year. When they are threatened, they defend their territories, and sometimes they are successful, and sometimes not, and they have to move on to a different part of the lake, or in some cases, a new lake altogether!

In this “hybrid” nest phase of my own human parenting, I am recognizing that I am looking for parallels with these birds of nature, and perhaps a few lessons or nuggets of comfort contained in their life cycle and struggles. There is a commonality in that we are all just trying to take care of our babies. These days with my more adult kids, I find myself a little more conflicted or unsure when to step in to help, when to take a few steps back, when to offer advice, and when to just shut up. I am aware that in our generation of parenting, we often try to fix too many things, hovering, when our kids are quite capable of managing on their own. Or if they are not, they will have failures and learn how to recover from them. My parents did not assist me with college course selection, or edit my essays, and were definitely more hands off. But they were present and available. They didn’t do everything right, I don’t do everything right, but we are there, trying.

This past week, my sister and I watched with bated breath and nervous anticipation as the “Loon Cam” livestream in the NH Lakes region showed a loon chick hatching. It was amazing, and fascinating to get a glimpse into this cycle of life for them on their nest. This little feisty chick kept peeping and following its parents dutifully, as well as surviving them literally stepping on it as they would get on and off the nest – (loons are not very graceful on land and need to be in the water!) At one point the chick got stuck in the netting of the nest as it tried to hop its way into the water, and all the people watching together on the Live chat were getting very nervous. The mom Loon was off the nest swimming, (and wouldn’t have been able to help anyway), but thankfully the chick figured itself out before flopping into the water to catch up to her.

  • Loon on nest with baby chick
  • First swim!

I am a fairly pragmatic person, but I have had more reflection time (questioning time?) with this particular phase of life, and parenting. So perhaps for me, it’s just a lesson and a reminder in seeing these beautiful instinctual mamas in the wild who raise their babies, but literally do not try to fix anything. They just let them figure it out. For them, it is often a matter actual life and death survival – and the stakes are higher. So, if they can do it, I have faith that I can do it too.

And now my sister and I have a thread of somewhat hilarious and also heartfelt texts with accompanying photos from my goose reporter beat about the Geese (and the loons) where we are kind of both simultaneously sobbing and also being cheerleaders for the outcomes:

Geese Reporter on duty – update from my beat. Goslings are growing up!

I must say they grow like weeds!

There is a whole community of geese by the canal…! They all seem to be co-parenting. Haha. I think there is a bunch of bachelors that are all hanging out together.

Look at how big they are getting! We’ll be putting them through college.

We’d also better get them started with folding laundry.

They are such good parents!

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Time and Space

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How many of you have thought, if I only had a little time and space I would…[write a book, travel the world, clean my house, insert thing here]. I am very fortunate to work for a company that offers a little bit of this – a sabbatical. Seven weeks off for seven years of service. Honestly, when I started with Tessitura back in 2015, seven years seemed like a very very long time in the future. Turns out that it is – sort of.

My life looks absolutely nothing like it did when I started this job. In 2015, I had one child in high school, one in middle school, and now I have a college graduate and a second one in college. After taking it one year at a time, and living through the weird time warp of the Pandemic, alternatively forever and a day, it seemed the time had actually come to really think about what I might want to do. The Universe seemed to align for us too.

As many of you know, my husband Joe worked for West Windsor emergency services for 25 years, and he decided he was ready to “retire” and collect his pension. I say retire in quotes, because he literally already had two other jobs, (see above: Two kids in college…) So it really was a question of rotating out of the fire department and the long shift work. I prefer the word: Evolution. Was he ready to give up that career, had he done all that he wanted to do there? The answer ended up being a resounding yes, especially the 24 hour shifts, which were only getting harder each passing year. With that decision in place, I decided it would be wise to line up my time off to coincide with his last shift so that we could enjoy some time together.

The other piece that sort of aligned accidentally, was our daughter Shannon’s plan after her college graduation last spring, to work in Disney as part of her Covid casualty postponed college program. In a different context, our son Joe had transferred to a different college, more transition as part of our family renewal/evolution.

As I started formulating plans, we thought we should take a big trip to celebrate all the things, and since Joe had not ever been out of the U.S., Ireland was first on our list, and London had ALWAYS been on my list. Shannon then scheduled her time so that we were able to drive her down to Florida and spend a couple of days in Disney with her as well.

So, the first thing we did upon my sabbatical (and Joe’s retirement) was – take a trip to Disney World. We were off to a good start!

After a hella-long drive to Florida with a very full car, we got Shannon settled in, and spent a couple of days with Pooh & Friends and enjoying Halloween decorations in Disney, then visited my brother and his wife who recently moved to Amelia Island, before heading back home. We promptly turned right around and went to Rhode Island to attend Family weekend at the University of Rhode Island and visit Joe. He was in the midst of pledging a fraternity, but he managed to squeeze in at least an hour or two with us… haha, (but actually true story). We were happy to have a beautiful New England day and take him to lunch, and also lucky for us, to stay and visit with my friend Julie in Newport, our Rhode Island “home”.

We zipped home to NJ, then left a day later for Ireland and England for 12 days. This trip was pretty incredible, so stay tuned for a separate post just about these adventures.

After we returned home and recovered from Jet lag, we were left with a few weeks just the two of us empty nesters at home – and not working. Weird.

I realized that if I had been working (from home) and Joe was enjoying his newly found free time without a concrete schedule, I would have been resentful – not in a bad way, but sort of just in the grumbly get up and start the daily grind, well, one of us has to work feeling. So we avoided that by being able to make spur of the moment decisions with our lovely New Jersey fall weather like, hey it’s a beautiful day, let’s take the top off the Jeep and take a nice drive! Hot Dog Johnny’s awaits! Or… Let’s drive up to Connecticut for a couple of days and see family…it was pretty awesome. I have worked basically full time since age 17, and I haven’t had significant time off other than maternity leaves (which IS NOT TIME OFF!) So, this was a profound discovery time for me.

Back in my professional dancing years with Princeton Ballet, (think late 1980’s) I was in New York City one day during a brief company hiatus, and I ran into Jennifer Scanlon, the woman who had set Jose Limon’s famed The Moor’s Pavane on us earlier that year. She was a lovely teacher and coach, and she had seen all of us as dancers through the most stressful of lenses, vying for a role, being in the studio 6 -8 hours a day staring at ourselves in a mirror, and when she saw me out of that context, she took my hands in hers and immediately said: You look so relaxed. I thought about that comment for a long time after that – and I feel like it was the same thing for me during this seven weeks. When you have a moment to just take care of yourself, and not be constantly thinking about work, or criticisms, or juggling a million things, it definitely feels better from the inside out. Note to self.

Other than the big things, and while working around our travel itineraries, I also made time to go to a Broadway show, I went into New York to have dinner with a friend, who does that? I mean, go to NYC just for dinner? Not this girl. I felt very cosmopolitan. I found great joy in just being able to plan to do one thing on a given day. As in, Today, I’m going to the chiropractor. Or…Today, I am having coffee with a friend. That’s it. I’m not answering 40 emails, squeezing it between meetings, or worrying about getting back in time for…more meetings. I went to appointments and then did something completely frivolous afterwards, like taking a walk around a park, or stopping at a store I never get to shop in. Time. Space.

I spent some time keeping up with my cat Poe’s Instagram account (@poekitty2022) who is a feisty black cat having adventures outside in our yard and inside our house, and frequently interacts with my sister’s dog’s Instagram account (@talleywoodside). Wildly silly and maybe ridiculous, but it’s so fun.

I planned future trips to Disney to visit Shannon – we just went back for Thanksgiving. I am going back with my sister in law in January. (I am not a fanatical Disney person, but since she’s only there for six months we have to plan accordingly…)

And oh, house projects – there are no shortage of house projects. I had hoped that in time maybe Joe and I would be on a track to become the next Chip and Joanna Gaines and start our own HGTV show, but he says I don’t have the skills. He may be correct. ☹

I guess what I could say was most impactful during this time was just reaffirming and understanding exactly who I am. There is no doubt that it is a complete paradigm shift when your partner “retires,” “evolves,” or simply changes paths. I’m grateful that I could take a moment and breathe that in, instead of barreling on to the next thing without the space to process it. We are still most definitely an empty nest work in progress, but we are learning and growing together into this next adventure and stage of our lives. Going back to work feels good right now, and my perspective has appropriately adjusted and refreshed. I can feel the possibilities. I didn’t clean my whole house, or write a book, but I certainly took more time for myself …even if you can’t take seven weeks off, spending time doing something that brings you joy and happiness is important everyday. Remember to create the time and space.

The Light is Changing

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You can feel it actually. The waning days of summer, as the sun slants ever so slightly in a different direction, the light is changing.

In the past 18 years of my life, this small but significant sign has meant we are approaching back to school shopping, one last trip to the beach, a new school year on the horizon. This year is similar, yet different. Our youngest son is heading to college, and so for the first time in what seems like a very long time, I don’t have a child in our school district, I’m no longer getting the “back to school” notices, the reminders, the lunch account replenishment, the high school parking passes. I’m not filling out pages of medical forms or reviewing soccer schedules, and blocking out game times on my calendar.

I don’t miss this really… maybe? I don’t know. As the light wanes this August, the changes feel bigger, more unknown, the overall life shift is more monumental. It’s natural and normal, and inevitable. I am becoming more of a bystander, a cheerleader in my son’s life. He fills out the medical forms now and I just proofread. We discuss meal plans and a college course schedule.

With the changing light though, comes possibility. My son is at once worried, anxious, and excited. As each of his childhood friends has departed, one by one, like the drip of a slow faucet, he is ready to go. He will have endless possibilities in college, new friends, and a bigger world to be a part of. And we will have a new routine, a quieter house, opportunities for new (or old) hobbies and interests to take center stage.

So when I get a little wistful for the high school days, the standing out in the rain for soccer games, the focal point of my life revolving around these kids, I will take a deep breath, close my eyes and embrace this late summer light. The light is changing, and so are we.

Normal “Assassins”

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It’s perfectly normal to find a full fire extinguisher of water rolling around in the back of your car on your way to church, right? Well…even with a husband who is a professional firefighter, this is not exactly…normal.

But when your son, who is a Senior in high school, nearing the end of the school year, has been playing a game called “Assassins” the entire weekend, where the high school upper classmen have formed into teams to stalk each other around town, and spray each other with water guns, (and evidently, fire extinguishers filled with water)- it makes life interesting. And, in a weird way, yes, also normal.

Pre-Pandemic, I would have worried so much more about this, kids driving around in cars, getting out and battling with water-filled “materials” in neighborhoods and parking lots, though this is a long standing tradition apparently, and obviously everyone who played before has lived to tell about it. But, after the year we’ve had, my perspective is quite different. Far from worrying, I am relishing every moment of dare I say…normal teenage activities. I am literally pushing him out the door.

On a Friday afternoon, a car pulled into the driveway, and four boys piled out of it, as Joe ran double time down the stairs from his room, out of the house – all ready with his black bandanna and awkwardly carrying the extra large fire extinguisher, bestowed upon him with the blessings of his fireman father. I hear all the boys cheering and clapping: LET’S GO! YEAH JOE! They are laughing, carefree, and they all pile into the car and drive away.

I paused for a moment, looking out my office window. Because this is the first time I had seen that kind of activity in over A YEAR. High school kids, together, laughing, ready for an adventure without restrictions, or a shadow of worry. I joke all the time that I have to stop crying over these things, that I should have invested actual money in Kleenex, but evidently it’s not going to be this month. I smash the lump down in my throat as they drove off. Because all I can think is, Normalcy.

What a difference a year makes- last year at this time these same boys were doing drive by birthday celebrations, yelling at each other from cars in the street, staying 6 feet apart, and trying to figure out what activities they could do outside in the summer to spend time together. This included going to the extent of buying fishing licenses so they could go to a lake all afternoon and sit and talk with their fishing rods in the water. A year ago, J was struggling through the last weeks of his Junior year with remote high school; we were worried beyond belief over his mental health. I was crying, but for very different reasons.

We are now at that point, after graduation, where he has one foot out the door, but is trying to be respectful of our feelings, still, we know it’s coming. He’ll be gone soon. A new normal.

Fast forward to later the same Friday night, when I awake from a fitful dozing sleep to hear him padding up the stairs after midnight. I get up out of instinct, and he greets me in the hallway.

MOM. IT WAS AWESOME. WE HAD AN EPIC BATTLE. I HAD SO MUCH FUN!!

He goes into enthusiastic detail about diving into bushes, hiding behind cars, and leaping and running across lawns. I blearily smile with relief and offer mumbled, possibly incoherent but heartfelt words of congratulations, and ask if he’s still in the game. He is. Hey, I thought you were staying over at A’s house, I say. I decided to come home, he responds. Good. Get some rest.

I climb back into bed, and two minutes later, he knocks on my bedroom door and enters, waving a Nestle Crunch bar. Hey, I got this for you when we stopped at Wawa. I admit, I had to suppress a little snort laugh. It was 12:30 at night, did he think I was going to eat it right then? But I was also overwhelmed with how thoughtful it was. Thanks, I said. Good night mom. He answered. Normalcy.

So the next morning, when I get in the car to drive to church, the dang fire extinguisher is clanging and rolling around the back seat. But rather than be annoyed that he left it there and didn’t think to take it out when he got home the night before, I smile with relief (and yes, a few tears), because in this weird way, it is actually a piece of normalcy. Sigh. {Sob}.

Gratitude in a Pandemic

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Recently I started keeping a list of things I am grateful for, to be honest, because it is Lent and I am trying to be reflective. But I realized as I got going, that my list was nearly all things I have become grateful for during the pandemic. It does strike me that this is the classic: Life is what happens while you’re making other plans.…or While you’re waiting for the pandemic to end.

Either one seems to work here. This is a wide variety of things over the past year that has kept my spirits up, that has opened my mind, or has just freakin’ made me laugh. When I SO needed to laugh. There are 12 on this list right now, (in no particular order of importance), and in marking 12 months of this pandemic life, it seems to fit.

  • I discovered my sister’s dog has an Instagram account. I LOVE Talley and all of the small, simple adventures that she goes on with my sister. It always brightens my day to see Talley trotting in her little coat outside when it’s cold, or climbing a mountain, or just sniffing the grass on a daily walk. I know she makes Chris happy, and that makes me happy.
2.
  • Deborah Roberts’s Instagram account. Deborah Roberts is an ABC News correspondent, and she is also married to Al Roker. I have always been a fan of Al, (Today Show fan too) – but during the pandemic, I discovered Deborah as well. She is a very inspirational, smart, compassionate woman, who has children the same age as mine, and is also an Episcopalian. When I began following her on social media, I found her posts to be reflective and joyful, reminding me to do things like buy flowers to brighten up the house, light a candle, go for a walk – Take care of myself. (Plus, I love their house in Upstate New York and their dog is really cute too.) I commented on a post last spring that she made on Pentacost at her church in NYC, and she reacted with the prayer emoji. So clearly now we are BFFs.
  • Cooking shows (Food Network.) I had always enjoyed a few shows on the Food Network here and there, but I REALLY got into some of them this last year. I could literally watch hours of Guy Fieri’s GGG (Guy’s Grocery Games), DDD (Diners, Drive-ins and Dives), and come on, can somebody please BEAT BOBBY FLAY? HE ALWAYS WINS! Sprinkle in a Saturday morning of some Giada and that PIoneer Woman while having my morning coffee, and I ventured forth to make some food outside my repertoire, and buy kitchen pantry staples to challenge myself to make some creative and flavorful dishes. If I have to be responsible for thinking about what to make for dinner like, 300 days a year, then Guy, Bobby, Giada, Rocco, and all those amazing chefs have saved me. They are ALL MY FRIENDS NOW.
  • Zoom Filters – or more accurately, the tragic mishaps with Zoom filters. (This is like my pandemic version of Buster Keaton movies). I don’t use Zoom all that much, but boy did I love and cackle out loud at the woman who made herself a Potato for the duration of a business meeting, and my god, the lawyer who couldn’t turn off the cat filter… I am not a cat. THAT WILL NEVER GET OLD.
  • Appreciation for Local Landmarks – I live in a beautiful historic area, (Washington Crossing) but when you walk in your neighborhood 350 plus days out of the year, you find new appreciation for exploring all of the history around us both in NJ and PA. On my bike, on my walks, in the car… humming Hamilton’s “HERE COMES THE GENERAL, (RISE UP)”….
  • Uncle Ed’s Creamery Ice Cream Pies – Early on in 2020, we were trying to support as many local businesses as possible who could only open for take-out. Uncle Ed’s is a small ice cream and chocolate shop owned by the High School Varsity soccer coach, so we were ordering there as much as we could, and then we discovered through a friend that they sell these amazing Ice Cream Pies. Well, Carvel, just move on over, because I will never again buy another one of your ice cream cakes. These things are THE BEST. We ordered for every occasion, and also just sometimes because it was Friday night and we made it through the week. (But, see walks above, so we didn’t gain 20 pounds of ice cream pie)… BUT.SO. GOOD. WE MIGHT NEVER HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THEM OTHERWISE.
  • Pandemic Poe Kitty. We got a new kitty. What would we ever do without this little cute black thing. The end.
  • Weekends free – Y’all might have heard over my social media life span that we have a child who has played travel soccer since 2010. That is, by my rudimentary math skills, 9 million Saturdays/Sundays of soccer over the past 10 years. For many many months, I had no driving to do on Saturdays or Sundays. See: Appreciation for Local Landmarks.
  • Pilates with Gioia/Yoga with Adriane – I have taken my fair share of Yoga classes over the years, I have enjoyed some, and others didn’t exactly inspire. I found Adriane on YouTube, she was really calming, her speed was just right for me at this time in my life, and her dog is often there too, which just made me smile. (And bonus, it is FREE). I know Gioia through my church, she is a fantastic Pilates teacher with her own local studio. She started doing classes online and also simultaneously fundraising for a wonderful and crucial local community organization by contributing half her class fees to Urban Promise Trenton, so I join as often as I can. She provides light, good vibes, and a great hour of taking care of yourself.
  • Lunch with neighbors – two friends of mine are teachers, and they were home. So we scheduled lunch together a couple of times this fall, where we met outside at one of our houses and brought all of our food with us. It was something that never would have happened otherwise without this weird school year, and it helped us kind of re-center ourselves during the week.
  • Senior Year Surprises – Despite the obvious kind of gloom and doom of a Senior year of high school during a pandemic, there have also been amazing surprises. Knowing that this is the last year I have at home with this kid has made for lots of emotions, and none of the “lasts” are happening the way they are supposed to. But some of it is better. Especially when I get hug, or a thank you, or he just bops into my office and spontaneously waves at my web cam in the middle of my meetings. Watching him mature literally before my eyes, it’s something to celebrate, not be sad about.

12. Science – And the people who believe in it. Go forth and get your vaccines!

Who knows what the next year has in store for us. It’s no doubt been a severe way to learn to be grateful, and have the deeper understanding that tomorrow is not promised. I am learning a ton about myself, through laughing at the zoom potatoes, taking a moment to look around me, and also being more open to life’s surprises. I have embraced my “micro world” as best I could. Love to all of you who helped me through, and I hope I can hug you all soon!

Oh – and if you are interested, you can follow Talley here: @talleywoodside (Maybe I’ll make an Instagram account for Poe’s adventures too….)

The Kids Are Not Alright

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Teenagers have been on my mind. For those of you who are parents of teenagers, or who are related to a teenager, listen up, this is for you.

I have been somewhat flabbergasted, and frankly a little shocked at times when I asked friends over the past year how their kids (teenagers) were doing, which is kind of a big question in the time of a pandemic…and some of them shrugged and said lightly, “Oh, they’re alright.” Or… “Oh you know, he’s kind of oblivious to everything.” Or, “We are really loving our family time.” At first I thought wow, maybe my kids are the only ones having a terrible time of this. Or maybe I’m overthinking this. Or maybe I’m just a terrible parent. But no. Because you know what? They are not alright. Even the ones that you think are alright, they are not.

I have read countless articles about how teenagers are suffering through this pandemic. I have cried on the phone with our pediatrician, who assured me I am not the only one. We are not the only ones. I have spent so many sleepless nights worrying about how my son is going to continue to navigate high school like this. I’ve bargained with myself, I’ve tried the unrealistic optimism approach that things will be better. I have tried to keep a sense of humor (sometimes not very successfully). But, yet, the nagging little voice. He’s not alright. They’re not alright.

Our school district is among the best, we are very lucky, and I know this and I appreciate it. They have done all they can do to keep the kids in school safely. But yet, these kids feel they are literally being punished for going to school. Or not going to school. Or seeing friends. Or not seeing friends. You see, every choice they make comes with a set of consequences, and it’s impossible to make any good (or “right”) choices. If they see friends, they risk exposure to COVID. If they don’t see friends, they are much more likely to feel sad and depressed. If they go to school, they feel weird and it’s not the greatest experience. If they don’t go to school, they are more isolated and it’s not the greatest experience. I can’t figure out how to be supportive. I’ve tried every angle, and none of it really fits – where is the pandemic parenting guidebook? Because of the depression J suffered with last spring, we have tried to allow him some freedom to see some friends (not in large groups), but his close group in the safest settings possible. It seemed the most reasonable path in my mind, and to keep his mental health in balance.

That seemed to be working, although they still obviously are giving up and missing out on a lot of normalcy. But a few weeks ago he went to a friends house, and there were people there outside his usual “pod”. One of them tested positive for COVID and all of them had to quarantine. In the week following, J had two negative tests, so he did not get infected, but he was very quiet. He stayed more to himself, barely talking, if he even came out of his room at all. One of his friends did get the virus and had symptoms. When I was driving him to get his COVID test, I asked, “You know that I’m not mad at you, right”? And he said, “No, I thought you guys were really mad at me.” And I said, “You didn’t do anything wrong. You went to a friend’s house.” Let that sink in. He thought he was in trouble because he went to a friend’s house. He said that they all felt like they did something wrong, and that they were worried they were going to get in trouble with the school. If you add this pressure into the mix of kids who are trying to please, it’s the ultimate sadness.

It was at that point that I just thought, wow, how much have we burdened our kids? We have literally asked the impossible from them, and then we are disappointed when they can’t deliver. How have we made them feel so inadequate? They don’t deserve this. They feel punished for literally every action, and then they retreat. We (collectively, people in charge of them) said “Sure, you can play your sport, but it could be shut down literally any minute because of something you do (or don’t do) or because someone else who you don’t even know stands next to someone who has COVID.” I don’t know how we can support them, or fix it, or make it better. I have no advice. I do know that I get even more angry when I hear people being judgmental: “tsk tsk” these kids just don’t know how to behave.

Listen. They are doing the best that they can. WE are doing the best that we can. There are no good options.

I don’t know what the lasting effects of this pandemic will be for these kids, the ones poised to be independent and trying to figure things out about themselves in their Senior year of high school, and have been squashed. All I know is that there will be lasting effects. I hope and pray that they will put this in their rearview mirror eventually, but it’s no joke – it’s not something they will ever speak lightly about. I take the words of advice that are often swirling in my head, just have grace – a lot of it – be a good listener, and be forgiving. That’s the best that we can do.

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Lace up…Inspiration in 2020

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I never set foot on an athletic field in High School. I couldn’t even tell you for sure if Princeton High School even had a football team in the eighties. (But I think they had a soccer team). Suffice it to say, I did not understand the world of varsity athletics – what playing a varsity sport actually entailed, or what teammates really meant to each other.

But, I will say, I love a good sports movie. I mean, I truly enjoy watching the inspirational tales (especially the true stories) of underdog teams who make it to the finals against all odds, miracles on ice, Cinderella stories, athletes that overcome adversity, I’ve seen them all – multiple times. (With plenty of tissues on hand). I’m also literally the biggest fan of the Olympics. Every two years, my family knows that I will be fanatically watching every moment of coverage of sports I never even cared about until those two weeks, and then I’m glued to the television for days and nights on end rooting for athletes in the ski jump and the Nordic combined and I can’t even pronounce their names. Because those athletes made it to the OLYMPICS.

So, imagine when we had our very own real life version of an inspirational, spectacular finish of a sports season happen in 2020. [Big Cheers!!]. High school varsity athletes and coaches have had to navigate their seasons in the midst of a pandemic, with no guidebook – and our soccer player has been a part of that. And the last week of Joe’s soccer season perhaps provided the most twists and turns, emotional ups and downs, and outright drama that I have seen either in a movie, or experienced in real life. It was nothing short of exhausting and exhilarating.

These young men on the Hopewell Valley Central High School soccer team have proven their resiliency all season, enduring all the weirdness of sports in 2020; Health checks, canceled practices, schedule changes, not knowing each day if the season could get shut down, playing each game as if it might be their last. They all took care of each other, relied on each other, and kept themselves healthy for the past three months, leading in to the post season sectional finals. And then things really got interesting.

Their team was supposed to have their State sectional quarter final on a Tuesday evening.  They had a remote day at school Monday, so I was cautiously optimistic that all would be fine. Since no one had been at school since the Friday before, things were unlikely to unravel (I thought) with a positive case coming to light at the high school. But, alas, at 2pm on Tuesday, we got an email that there was a positive case identified, and the student had been in school THAT DAY. 
The coach reached out immediately to say that the game was “postponed”…but honestly we all thought they were done. The semi finals were scheduled for Thursday, and the finals for Saturday; obviously they couldn’t hold up the tournament, so the possibility was very real that they would have to forfeit the game. 
All the boys on the team began texting each other, Joe wandered in and out of my office at home pacing and running his fingers through his hair. I tried to stay mostly silent, knowing nothing that I could say was going to be helpful. Later that evening, he and his best friend Matt took a drive (they called it their “cry drive” – they went to the field at the high school, got food at WAWA and hung out together). I admit, I did some of my own crying too. In the meantime, I was obsessively searching the high school soccer schedule on NJ.com, (complete coverage of high school sports…) and I saw that their game was moved on the calendar to Wednesday, but I knew it had to be contingent upon the whole team being cleared in time from the contact tracing.  Still, there was a glimmer of hope. 


Wednesday morning arrived and we were on pins & needles.  I was very distracted and I kept refreshing my email to see if there was any news.  At around Noon, Joe came tearing down the stairs and leaping into my office exclaiming: GAME IS ON!!!! GAME IS ON!!!! So we cried again – this time in relief.  The email subject line from the coach was: LACE UP.   Loud music was played in Joe’s room all day and there was some dancing too.

The HV Bulldogs went into that game Wednesday night with a TON of adrenaline, and took the field by a hundred fold teenage force. It was fantastically exciting, hard fought, fearless, all heart, tied up at the end of the game, ending up going into double Overtime…and they WON. They came away with a win on their home field in the quarter sectional finals, after just hours before not being sure they would even get to play the game. 

It was like a movie. And it was not over! They had to turn around and play THE NEXT AFTERNOON, after playing two hours of full out soccer in freezing cold temperatures, with cramping muscles, bruises, and coming out a little battered. Add to that – their goalie had hurt his ankle, and ended up spending a late night in the ER. This was setting up to be a classic scenario of an underdog team rising up from adversity to challenge the more experienced, nationally ranked team that was pretty much anointed champion before the game was even played. IT JUST DOESN’T GET ANY BETTER THAN THAT.

They were all a little emotionally overwrought and wiped out from the night before, (Joe sat at virtual school the next morning with a heating pad on his leg and bowl full of bananas), but these boys absolutely pulled it together. Their opponent had literally rolled over every other team they had played this season, and had many days of rest to boot.  But the Bulldogs came out strong, scored first, and stayed in the lead until the second half; they fought all the way.  We cheered loudly. The loss was ultimately 3-1, but the opposing team was confident on their home field, and hadn’t played an entire game less than 24 hours before! So I absolutely consider it a win for our boys – because most importantly, and above all else, in the midst of a Pandemic, they got to play their last two games on their terms, and with all the uncertainty, put their hearts all out there, instead of having the season fizzle to an end out of their control. 

These athletes showed a maturity and understanding that was beyond their years, they kept themselves healthy all season and put their teammates first – and the stuff that was out of their control was just that – I am so thankful it all worked out for them, that they were supported on so many fronts- by the school district, their coaches, the State athletic governing body. They eeked out this season in the nick of time. 

We have certainly lost a lot of things this year, there has been no shortage of struggles. Our teenagers have made sacrifices, and we as parents have worried on a scale that is not measured. The world has felt so out of control, but perhaps we all gained some perspective. We could say that it wasn’t a true soccer season because it wasn’t a traditional schedule, there was no county tournament, no Varsity trip, no State finals in the way everyone was accustomed to. But in the heavy plus column is that many of us appreciated this season more than any other that came before it. We cheered a little louder, hugged our athletes a little tighter. Gave each other a little more grace. Each game that came and went, we all exhaled a little more.

I, for one, appreciated that in a world that feels very fearful, I could watch these guys be absolutely fearless out on the soccer field. Twice a week, for a couple of hours, I almost forgot we were living in a pandemic, except for the mask on my face. I am grateful for every moment, and I know these boys are grateful for each other, perhaps even more than they would have been in a “normal” year. There were no “would haves” “could haves” or “should haves”. They truly left it all out in the field, and I gained an understanding of Varsity athletics in a way I never expected to.

In the second half of the final game, near the end, when Joe was on the bench for a couple of minutes, I heard him yelling to his teammates on the field: “DEFEND AS A UNIT!”. I would say that they did just that, both on the field, and off.

The sting of the losses will fade in time, but the moments they shared, and the friendships they nurtured – they will keep those forever. Well done, Bulldogs, we got some true inspiration in this excruciating year. I’m exhaling now.

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Coronavirus Plandemic

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I remember back in April, when we were at the beginning of the COVID crisis – the chaos, fear, uncertainty, saying many times to people….”When this is all over, we’ll…” fill in the blank. Go to dinner? Go to the movies? Have a party without worry? Celebrate milestones without “drive bys”?, SEND OUR KIDS TO SCHOOL?

I don’t know when it started to change, maybe sometime this summer, when the world realized it wasn’t going to be “all over”. It was going to hover over our plans, our existence, our everyday life, for a good long time. We stopped saying: When this is all over. I stopped planning for things too far into the future. It was incredibly painful to cancel everything on the calendar last spring, so by not having too much on the calendar, that doesn’t scare me so much now.

The “plandemic” has arrived. My strategy to plot my family’s life only a few days or a few events at time. I held my breath for school to actually start, I held my breath even longer for soccer practices, and games to actually land on the calendar. Week by week. Actually, day by day.

There’s now a fall chill in the air. With winter looming, and knowing the days are getting shorter, I have had real moments of sadness, so I started employing a strategy of coping by only thinking about things in bite size pieces to keep me from getting completely overwhelmed. I don’t know that it always works, but sometimes at the very least, it calms me down.

But when I get to question of planning for the holidays, I just stop. Too overwhelming. What’s happening THIS WEEK, I ask myself, and the answer is, soccer games, bike rides, walks, deep breaths, and cooking good healthy food. That’s a good week! No planning beyond the week. To the next high school soccer game, fingers crossed, breath held.

My sister Chris and I wrote an article together a couple of months ago about coping through the pandemic, using duffel bags as our barometer and how to metaphorically pack them with strategies that would buoy us up throughout the pandemic. Best case scenario was 1 duffel bag, worst case would be 3 duffel bags. (In case you missed it, and are curious to know more, you can read it here: https://www.zip06.com/living/20200730/an-emtx2019s-duffel-bags-provide-metaphor-for-pandemic-survival )

In my proverbial duffel bag scenario, winter right now is at about a 10. So, there you go. I struggle with the winter in the BEST of times, so it’s daunting to me to even imagine coping without my usual comfort mechanisms – will I feel OK to go out and eat at a restaurant? People won’t want to gather inside, so we will be isolated just like last spring. What will I do when it gets dark at 5pm? I may just invite my neighbors over to the fire pit with many layers and 5 blankets instead of mustering up the courage for one more zoom call to socialize.

This is where I get to the Plandemic. Plandemic = no planning. I have to kind of shape my day as I feel I can, take baby steps, don’t eat the whole cake – take the small bites. Do the thing that makes me feel good.

When I listen to the “experts”, (and by the way, who the hell is an expert on living through a pandemic?) they say self care is so important. Take care of yourself. This is my coping mechanism. The “Plandemic” is going to go on for at least a few more months, so I am going to continue to go day by day. Week by week. Piece by piece. This is my self care, this is how I will stay sane.

But….having a Senior in High School during a pandemic is like WTF every single day. It makes college planning activities kind of hilarious/traumatic. (Is that even a possible combination of feelings?) There is literally not one piece of going to school right now that is normal – though I am extremely thankful they are trying. But as far as “planning” for actual college which is NEXT YEAR (!) I am going through the motions. I feel so disconnected, as if this is some mirage of activities that are not real. But I will say that young Joe has proven his resilience, and he is showing his maturity. He’s finding his way forward, so I am following. But, also saying my usual set of phrases on repeat: “I don’t know…” “Well see….” eventually I suppose there will be acceptance letters, decisions to be made, financial aid packages to weigh, and I’ll probably keep saying, “I don’t know…” “We’ll see…”

I admit that I am a bit weary of being grateful for the little things we get, as if we should be thankful this pandemic wasn’t screwed up even worse. “At least….” has become my least favorite leading sentence.

  • At least my son is in school *sometimes*.
  • At least they are having a soccer season, even if it’s not what they thought it would be. At least we get to go to the games, even if my family can’t come and watch his senior year.
  • At least my daughter is at college, even if she has to live like a hermit…

At least… It’s a real struggle not to be angry, which I know does not help. But yes, I am angry that so much has to be sacrificed by us when we weren’t protected from this AT ALL, and now it looks as though this is a future sacrifice for….who knows how long.

I did briefly think of writing a book called: Parenting in a Pandemic for Dummies – but maybe instead I’ll write one called Plandemic strategies for tomorrow, or Have your Plandemic cake and eat it too. Seriously, y’all, it’s a plandemic dilemma.

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A Love Letter to my Ballet Family

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As the days have ticked by during the months of this Pandemic, I’ve certainly had my brain full of plenty of things to worry about, just like all of you. For me at this particular time in my life, I worry mostly about my almost-grown kids and what their life is going to be like for the next year, I worry about my husband going out on the front lines for work, I worry about my friends who are unemployed right now, and I worry about my clients in all facets of the Arts, who I talk to everyday and who have no idea how long they have to endure.

But the one other nagging worry, and feeling of helplessness, and sadness, is really going all the way back to my artistic roots as a dancer. Because for all the creativity, the zoom meetings, the moving everything to the “virtual” – there is no way for ballet dancers to do this well. Because the point (pun intended) is for dancers to be TOGETHER.

When you dance together, either partnering with one person, or dancing with 16 other dancers in the corps, the energy is built on the people in the room.  It’s not simply the hands on ability for the teacher to correct and see you up close, but because of the sheer joy and harmony of moving together through space. You are literally BREATHING on each other. Let’s face it, there is no way to dance together 6 feet apart, and WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO?  Not to mention moving through space in an expansive studio where you feel like you can fly. You can’t do that in your living room, no matter how hard you try. (Well, without breaking a lamp.)

I am literally flooded weekly by the hundreds of Zoom classes and virtual classes that are offered now at ballet studios all around me on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter feeds, and even some brave ballet schools with students attending in person this summer, standing literally acres apart at the barre in sterile studios with masks on… and honestly, my heart breaks a little bit every single time.  I can only imagine what a young dancer must be feeling- your years as a dancer are fleeting, there is no time to be lost, you don’t ever have enough time in this life at your peak as a performer.  I fully admit that I would have absolutely lost my shit at age 16 or 17 if a global pandemic had come along and taken away my community, my world, my ability to work together, to BE together cohesively with my fellow dancers- my ballet family.

So, to the ridiculous levels of creativity that everyone in this world is challenged to rise up to, the endless zoom ballet classes, the dancers putting panels of Marley on their kitchen floors so they can continue to train and do their barre work and put their pointe shoes on without breaking an ankle on waxed linoleum, I bow down to you. And especially to my friends who are ballet teachers – I know you have learned all kinds of  new technology and stepped so far out of your comfort zone just to endure this, (and are probably hating most every minute of it) I feel you and I applaud you.

And to the ballet students and professional dancers, I am rooting and cheering so hard for the day that you can feel the air from someone else’s movement brush by you as you move through Grand Allegro, when you have to lean back at the barre because someone’s Grand Battement comes just a little bit too close to your face, when you can grab the hand of your partner, look into their eyes and feel their sweat, their energy, their grit, and their passion.  When you can BREATHE together. The same air, in the same room.

This. is. Ballet.