​The media is full of reminders that a year ago today, our kids went to in-person school for the last time, and the world shut down (a “two-week shutdown” we said).
I remember this clearly, because nine years ago today I gave birth to Ali Unicorn Bear Sage Young Rosen (some of those names may have been added by the erson in question). 
It was a year with odd toilet paper hoarding, the canceling of life as we knew it, the debate over masks, denial and lies from our Commander-in-Chief, the introduction of remote learning, ZOOM!, loneliness, stress, deaths – so many deaths.
 
I loved President’s Biden’s first address to We the People last night.  “Finding the light in the darkness is a very American thing to do,” he reminded us.  Note: not denying or glossing over the darkness, but entering in to it. How else can we find the light?
 
Biden shared that every day he carries a card with his schedule in his pocket (so retro!). On the back of this card he writes the new daily number of American COVID deaths.  He humanizes this number as “Husbands, wives, sons and daughters, grandparents, friends, neighbors, young and old.” My mind fills with stories of how Lincoln felt similarly weighed down by the deaths of those he was leading.
 
The price of living through a historic time is that things are different, darker.  Although we have lost friends to COVID, my family is lucky to still be healthy.  We were not as lucky financially.  Having a small marketing business when society shut down took its toll. We are among many who left LA for more opportunity. (After we explained how the cost of living elsewhere would allow us to have a house that is twice the size at half the cost, with a pool & jacuzzi thrown in, and a nationally ranked school down the road, our next door neighbors told us we influenced them to move out of Los Angeles too. Their home is currently in escrow.)
 
This is the reward of living through a historic time:  we see ourselves differently. We’ve had to do things differently, reinvent parts of ourselves. I suspect I am one of many holed up writing a book. Likewise, I believe there will be a plethora of great music and art to emerge from this time of isolation.
 
This time of isolation has also forced me to look at my relationship to time.
 
Time….I look at my joyful 9-year old and realize the bad news is that time flies.  I wish I could stop time to keep this fun and sweet little girl with me.  The good news is that we’re the pilot. We set the course, the priorities that dictate both our days now and our days to come.  She will age and change, but I can build a closeness that grows with her.
 
I was talking to my mom on Monday and she mentioned that her walking was worse than my dad’s, who was newly home from hospital after his fall.  “Why don’t you go see the chiropractor?” I asked. “It’s not the right time!” she protested.  I countered: “What? It’s much better to be proactive and get help before you develop a serious condition!” She insisted, “I’ll go down the road. As Fr. George always says, Live in this moment.” And thus she ended the conversation. (Silly me. It never goes well when I advise my mother. Will I ever learn?).  
 
Hours after our talk, Mom fell and broke her femur.  She had successful surgery on Wednesday, but is still in hospital and has a long long road of rehab ahead of her. 
 
To live in the moment, this moment, is not to be accepting and passive, as my Mom taught me and still believes. To live in this moment of time is to be aware.  To notice the leak BEFORE we have a flood on our hands.  To be conscious that our four-year old is having problems in preschool BEFORE it affects his self-esteem in kindergarten. To be mindful of our pre-teen’s frustrations BEFORE she hits puberty and hormones get thrown in to the mix. 
 
From recent testing, Ali was assessed a year behind in math.  As her English-major mom, I feel partly responsible. I encourage and work with her on her literacy (she is testing fourth grade in reading). But math? Luckily, as a third grader, if we are diligent, we can get her back on track, because as time goes on, it will become harder and harder for her to catch up.  And a defeated mindset will seal her fate.
 
As the poet Carl Sandburg said, “Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent.  Be careful, lest you let other people (and, let’s be honest, built-up circumstances) spend it for you.”
 
Time: both healer and killer of us all. Best be aware of it in order to spend it wisely, or it leaves us with many regrets.

​Much is revealed about a culture from its vocabulary.

In reflection, 2020 gave us a load of new lingo.  
 
Consider:
Yoga Pants – Former meaning: “I’m working out / going to yoga.” 
2020 meaning: “I got out of my pajamas today.”
 
Drive-by - Former meaning: a shooting from a moving car. 
2020 meaning: Adorning one’s car with signs & balloons as one joins a procession of cars, waving at friends on a lawn, yelling, “Happy Birthday!/Happy Graduation!/Good luck on your move! We’ll miss you!”
 
Mask – former meaning:  a facial covering for Halloween.
2020 meaning: Public statement of those who believe in science vs. those who don’t.

Family time - former meaning: a special time set aside for family members to catch each other up on their day, relax, eat dinner, play games.
2020 meaning: Every minute of every day. (Antonym: alone time, now a term used in fantasy or sci fi.)
 
Urban Moving Vans of Any Kind - former meaning: “We’ve been transferred!” 
2020 meaning: “We did the math, and OMG, what we can buy elsewhere for half the price while working remotely!!”
 
Date - former meaning: an outing that two people in/or wanting to be in/ a relationship take to have fun, relax, connect.
2020 meaning: ???

Pivot - Former meaning: “to turn on, as if on a shaft”
2020 meaning: To reinvent one’s self out of necessity. Ex: “My business collapsed…I got laid off…our economic model isn’t viable…I need to pivot here….”

Quarantine: Former meaning: a strict isolation imposed to prevent the spread of disease.
2020 meaning: daily life.
 
Zoom: A noun (Ex: Let's discuss this on zoom). Also, a verb (Ex: Let’s zoom next week). Also, an adjective (Ex: Mom, I’ll see you on the Christmas zoom meeting). In short, zoom became EVERYTHING: a lifeline for business and social interaction.  
Would that we had bought stock….
 
Virtual/Remote Learning – Proof that kids can actually tire of watching a screen.
 
Postponed Memorials – A plan to celebrate a recently deceased loved one’s life in the distant undefined future
History of term: As the death toll mounted to horrifying numbers, many found that zoom (adj) memorials leave much to be desired. We’ve learned how important hugging and being physically together are in times of grief.
 
The COVID-19 – Cousin to “The Freshman 15”, "the COVID- 19" is the approximately 20 pounds of weight gained by staying at home, mostly in the first few months of the pandemic. (not to be confused with COVID-19, the actual disease).
 
Social distancing – an oxymoronic phrase denoting how one is trying to be health-conscious while also acknowledging one’s deep need to laugh and be with family and friends.
 
Now, for an obscure ancient word that has been a 2020 companion: 
Trumpery
Samuel Johnson, in his dictionary of 1755, defined trumpery as:
(1) Something of less value than it seems 
(2) Falsehood, empty talk 
(3) Something of no value; trifles
Its meaning not only stands, but has new depth.
 
Top Two Words more commonly used than ever before: 
Hope – synonymous with the election…the vaccine…the future…
 
Gratitude – buzzword of sanity. Grateful for what we have. What we don’t. That this year is finally ending. For who we have become during this time.
 
And Concluding -
​on Perspective and Relationships – “Life will present you with unexpected opportunities, and you won't always know in advance which are the important moments. Above all, it's the quality of your relationships that will determine the quality of your life. Invest in your connections, even those that seem inconsequential." 
(Esther Perel came up with that – and it’s good, so it’s here).
 
Thanks for your friendship and for having subscribed to my blog.
 
Happy Holidays to you and your loved ones.

At the Pilgrims museum in Plymouth last year (yup, a real place, and real trunk.) Ali, in happier times, with mannequins modeling the T-giving look.

​Tuesday afternoon, Ali rages across the field next to our house, tears streaming down her face as she yells words lost to the wind. 
 
The day before, New Mexico (like much of the country) went on lockdown again, effectively shutting down all non-essential gatherings, like Ali’s hip hop class.  This was to be 8-year old Ali’s first hip hop class, and she’s frustrated because she can’t keep up with the moves on zoom.  This was actually to be Ali’s first boots-on-the-ground activity with peers since March.
 
Tired of living in virtual isolation, Ali laments that her entire 9th year on the planet has been dealing with COVID and its restrictions.  
 
There’s something liberating about her full-blown tantrum; catharsis most of us don’t rationally allow ourselves, but probably should.
 
“And Thanksgiving won’t be as fun as last year,” she sobs.
 
Thanksgiving last year was a blast, as we spent the week in Vegas with family friends the Rogers, taking in the Hoover Dam, Cirque de Soleil, shopping, then joining together in a big Thanksgiving meal back in Los Angeles, where neither of us live anymore.
 
Our table will be smaller this Thursday, as will most.  Travel bans are in effect. 
 
But on a deeper level, there are 252 THOUSAND (252,000) empty chairs at American Thanksgiving tables this year due to COVID in the United States alone…among the empty place settings, my friend Andy’s father, Alain’s aunt, Christina’s mother, Kathy’s father.
 
Then, there are those who lost family this year not from COVID: Andrew whose dad died in July, Jill whose husband passed away last month (leaving her and their three children under the age of 10),  Ragon’s dad this past Monday, and of course dear Anna, whose daughter would be in 6th grade had she not tragically and unexpectedly died in December. 
 
This, I realize, is the price of growing older, of living life: to carry the loss of those we love. We survive, carrying the best of them, sometimes buoyed by their spirit, sometimes crushed by their absence. COVID has heightened our losses, while further isolating us from those we still have with us.
 
History shows us we are not alone, or even unique. 399 years ago, by the time the 50 surviving Pilgrims met with the Wampanoag tribe to celebrate what we call “the First Thanksgiving”, a staggering 51 Pilgrims had already perished in the New World.  Even with their sense of fatalism, were the Pilgrims inwardly grieving half their tribe as they gave thanks? Were they burdened by the price of their survival?
 
Nevertheless, they were carrying on with traditions as best they could, because in 17th century England, every yearly harvest was greeted with a festival of gratitude.
 
Gratitude: most important when we may least feel it. 
 
Nobel Peace Prize winner Albert Schweitzer said it better: 
“At times, our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.”
 
This year, who has been a spark to you:  a friend, cousin, neighbor, teacher, student, colleague, client, family?  Call. Email. Text. Zoom. Thank those who keep us going. 
.
And let’s remember those odd and unexpected silver linings of COVID: a chance we never would have otherwise taken, an opportunity we created out of lack, a statement we made despite restrictions. 
 
Here are my top 2020 COVID silver linings:
 
1) Carving out a new life in New Mexico in a beautiful new home, complete with this new blog. 

2) Forming friendships with some Amherst classmates, which have grown out of monthly zoom calls started in March after our reunion was canceled. I am genuinely grateful to get to know these movers and shakers better than I ever did in college. 

3) Watching (via video) my incredible cousin Nicky get married in Maine, and Ali’s amazing teacher Cecily (via zoom) get married in California tomorrow. There’s something inspiring about people who stand up for love in the midst of a pandemic. 

And when I feel the loss of what might have been, I’ll look to Ali’s example, and rage when I must. 
 
We have here, now. So like those famous Plymouth residents 400 years ago, let’s celebrate this harvest as the survivors we are.