{"id":1787,"date":"2020-04-19T12:03:02","date_gmt":"2020-04-19T12:03:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/suewoolfe.com.au\/pages\/?p=1787"},"modified":"2020-08-12T07:17:41","modified_gmt":"2020-08-12T07:17:41","slug":"day-31","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/suewoolfe.com.au\/pages\/day-31\/","title":{"rendered":"Day 31"},"content":{"rendered":"

Written 19 April, 2020<\/strong><\/p>\n

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We drove to the city two days ago, GG and I, staying overnight, mainly \u00a0to pick up meds that had arrived for K at Darlinghurst post office, and other meds as well. We’d left K at the river, for I don’t want to expose her to danger. The city life was saw was as distressing as we remembered, a nightmare muddle of masks and gloves and handsanitizing and hand washing, and trying to touch nothing. All the things I love about this city had gone, the fascinating mixture of people of many races, the fascinating things they do, the quirky things I overhear, all gone- only the trees at Hyde Park,and now they’re huddling into winter. \u00a0And always the harbour but now coldly glittering.<\/p>\n

On the way home, we have several stops; one is a nursery in Leichhardt where I forage for vegetable seedlings- ready grown and labelled tiny plants! I’m served by tattooed men who’ve worked out at a gym and seem not to notice me, the ageing, anxious woman waving from the other side of the counter. i’m invisible again at Hornsby Westfield when we stop again gor more of K’s meds from \u00a0health food shop, a long walk from the car through crowds. Hornsby is one of Sydney’s \u00a0“hotspots” for the disease, but I’m the only person masked, and all around me, crowds of shoppers are calling to each other, eagerly chatting in \u00a0groups, pushing their trolleys along as happy as children t out of school. They didn’t see each other as innocent killers, as I do. Some come scary close, and I feel invisible again. Often, to keep calm, I amuse myself by pretending to be a character that’s never got into the final version of a novel, but I often start with her because I’m comfortable with her, I am in some way her:<\/p>\n

“She was such a plain-faced, awkwardly-put together woman that people didn’t notice her. She had what her mother had called large bones. In crowds people came very close before they noticed her and veered away, and sometimes men especially even stood on her toes, for she had exceptionally long feet. It had happened for so long, all her life in fact, this invisibility, that she’s taken to considering herself invisible, and in public, if the need arose, she’d hitch up her bloomers- she thought of them as bloomers, the word her mother had used, huge, damply billowing things that weighed down the washing line. In fact, as an unlovely teenager in a school play, she’d been given the part of the donkey because no one else had wanted it, and on the stage in front of everyone’s families, she’d forgotten herself, stopped in the middle of a particular loud hee-haw, and with her front paws, she’d hitched up her pants”.<\/p>\n

When we get at last to Brooklyn, we drive through the little shopping centre to pick up more meds at the chemist. At the doorway of a little cafe, I’m transfixed by \u00a0the smell of freshly baked meat pies.<\/p>\n

“Would you like to come in?” asks a smiling young woman inside.<\/p>\n

And suddenly, I’m like the shoppers in Hornsby, \u00a0my longing for conversation is like spittle gathering in my mouth. I smile back and light bounces between us.<\/p>\n

“Your cooking is enticing,” I say, “but we must get up the river before it’s dark.”<\/p>\n

On the floor at my feet \u00a0are half a dozen boxes of with celery and pumpkin and tomatoes, with labelled names- Roberts, Sutton, Smith, Brown. To lengthen the moment, to keep exchanging smiles, \u00a0I ask what they are.<\/p>\n

“Food orders,” she says.<\/p>\n

“Food orders?”<\/p>\n

“To help locals, we take food orders, and use our suppliers for them.”<\/p>\n

“For locals! How? When? I’m a local! You mean, I could order food?”<\/p>\n

She grabs a piece of paper and a pencil, leans dangerously close to me over her glass display of cherry tarts and chocolate cakes, and writes down the days of a week that I can phone in an order, when I can order fruit and vegetables, when I can order bread and pastries.<\/p>\n

“But we’re celiacs and need funny flours.”<\/p>\n

She says that’s ok.<\/p>\n

“But when do i need to pick it up?”<\/p>\n

She says anytime.<\/p>\n

I laugh with joy, and in an embarrassingly choked voice, I tell her about that black night on the river, when we missed the Woollies delivery man and our food.<\/p>\n

She laughs and pretends not to notice that i’m dashing away tears.<\/p>\n

“These boxes won’t walk away by themselves.”<\/p>\n

And so, more kindness. i wish she was running not just a cafe, but our country. I wish, how I wish, she was running America.<\/p>\n

We’ve brought from the city flat the printer for my teaching, and on the boat it sits like a queen on the important high seat overlooking everything ; it says, this grey block of a printer, that the present trip is serious: we’re \u00a0no longer running away, we’re going home. The river from now on, is our home.<\/p>\n

We unload in the dark, me loading on the jetty into the flying fox, and GG unloading from the flying fox on the top deck, and while he takes the shopping into the house, i run up the jetty and put the seedlings into the ground, all by the light of weak solar lamps. K is nowhere to be seen- she’s in her room, watching a movie. We’re both exhausted, cold and cranky. When all the shopping is up- we must load it all for rain is forecast tomorrow – I wash my hands for safety mumbling Happy Birthday twice through, \u00a0and quickly pan-fry fish – at least she’s taken it out of the freezer – and throw together a salad for just us two.<\/p>\n

We sit on the deck, too tired to do anything but gobble.<\/p>\n

She comes to the door.<\/p>\n

“Where’s mine?”<\/p>\n

“You didn’t help us,” says GG. “So…”<\/p>\n

GG is seldom so cruel. I’m seldom so cruel. Exhaustion has made us cruel. I know this is what experts recommend, tough love. but it was almost impossible to do with an autistic, needy very bullied child – she holds such it waa sweet spot, a sympathetic spot in our hearts. \u00a0We were both bullied as children- especially GG who, from seven, \u00a0had a stutter so bad, he was almost mute. Perhaps we’ve been bad parents. But parenting an autistic child is baffling. We stalk down to the cabin, and I fall asleep at 7.30, under the blankets but fully-dressed.<\/p>\n

In the night, I wake to an email from Shelley in New York:<\/p>\n

We watch Governor Cuomo each morning for our daily reality check and today is no different. As you might have guessed, he is a much more truthful and reliable source than Trump, who drones on With various lies for over two hours every afternoon at his press briefing\/election rally. \u00a0

Cuomo\u2019s facts on the State of New York today:
2000 people \u00a0newly diagnosed With COVID yesterday
600 people died from COVID yesterday
These numbers are tragic.
On the bright side, Cuomo says hospitalizations are down and that we now know social distancing can control the spread of this disease. It is good news. He begins to roll out what a partial return to commerce would look like.
However, because none of the States have the resources to test the vast amounts of people necessary for us to get back to work safely. The Federal government has not been helpful in this matter; From the start of his presidency, Trump has enjoyed dismantling mch of our health, human services, and disaster relief bureaucracy.
Therefore, New York will remain on \u2018PAUSE\u2019 until at least May 15.\u00a0
This basically means we stay home pretty much all the time. We are all getting cabin fever. But I have to say that the consequences of removing us from our current state at this time really scares me.

To answer your question about Trump\u2014slightly more than 50 per cent of the US voting population(I can\u2019t believe it isn<\/div>\n
t more!) has been incensed by him for over 3 years. In my case and for many others, the virus is giving us a respite of Trump And only Trump 24\/7 focus.<\/div>\n
But before I get into that, let me howl. Yes, We are enraged and exhausted by him. Don\u2019t forget he was impeached by our House of Representatives. At the same time, at least 40 million people in my country think he can do know wrong, as if to confirm asTrump himself so famously said, \u201cI could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue and get away with it.\u201d

<\/div>\n
How many lives would have been saved if he had heeded science instead of money, politics, and his devotion to his own stupidity, I can\u2019t even imagine.<\/div>\n
He could not do all the horrid things he does without our Senate following his petulance and insanity in lock step.\u00a0
There is little we can do except support Joe Biden\u2019s candidacy in anyway we can. Hopefully, he will win and our 4 years of being kidnapped by this ignorant, narcissistic maniac will end. He is the worst possible leader to get the US through a pandemic, let alone the world.\u00a0

That said, many \u00a0Americans who dislike him are so distraught that they’re trying not to think about him at all right now that we have to live with an even deadlier predator. We desperately need at least the crumbs of feeling safe and calm, given the reality of COVID19. \u00a0Therapists worldwide are begging people to cut back on how much time they spend on the news, so as not add more panic and anxiety to their already cortisol and adrenaline overloaded nervous systems\u2014<\/div>\n
Anything that gives us joy needs to be at the top of our tool kit if we are to survive the global trauma of COVID19.\u00a0

<\/div>\n

I close down the computer and fall \u00a0back to sleep, lulled by the \u00a0river’s night sounds- the water lapping, the crickets calling, the hush. It promises safety. Or does it?<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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