A Thousand Points of Light

Many things have been cancelled because of the coronavirus. Love is not one of them.

Faith in the time of Coronavirus“,
James Martin, S. J., America, March 13, 2020

Our moment of crisis is decades in the making, the endgame of decades of embracing the idea that we are not interconnected, that it is each man and woman for themselves.

Coronavirus is an indictment of our way of life,”
Helaine Olen, The Washington Post, March 13, 2020

When this plague has passed, what will our neighbors remember of us? Will they remember that the Christians took immediate, decisive action to protect the vulnerable, even at great personal and organizational cost?

Love in the Time of Coronavirus,”
Andy Crouch, Praxis Journal, March 12, 2020

The challenge ahead is not to rebuild—it’s to build. We can’t restore something that never quite was. We don’t even know what a caring society—the beloved community—might really look like. We’ll have to imagine. So—if your classes are cancelled or your big game is kaput or the office is half-empty, if you don’t know how to wonk or organize, if you’re not a nurse or a public health expert or a social worker, if you’re feeling isolated—well, then, get busy. More time to start the work ahead: imagining the caring society that must come next. This is no thought exercise, this is action, and we can get going now if we haven’t—by determination or due to more visible necessity—started already.

All In,”
Jeff Sharlet, Bookforum, March 13, 2020

fuck coronavirus

who has a bill coming up that they’re not sure they’re gonna be able to pay

send me your bill and your Venmo

Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano), March 13, 2020

Why Do I Keep a Library?

Hope.

My father keeps a library. His father and mother had books and albums of photographs galore. My mother keeps a library. Her mother and father did not. Visits to my grandparents homes felt different, and the difference was most obviously, to me, in the books.

I grew up among books. They were my playground, my refuge, my adventure-land. I could retreat to the library and lie with National Geographic, the World Book Encyclopedia, or ancient Triple-A maps. There lived philosophies, prophets, histories, fantasies, adventures. I traveled to far distant Camelot with a Connecticut Yankee. I never thought I wouldn’t keep a library.

But the reason for it was the future: my children would laugh and play here too.

They haven’t, not as I thought.

Their pleasures have been, in large part, electronic. What is there to see and love in a virtual world? How do you pass it on? My youngest, No. 2 Son, recently excavated the Apple Macintosh LC-III that I kept because maybe one day I might need it. It holds nothing much. I never bought much software, and toward the end it was not much more than an e-World terminal. He’s been playing Sim City 2000 (1993).

I feel a certain nostalgia, but of what use is an LC-III now? I regret my digital life. What is there to show of what I’ve done? I may have saved some documents, but who can read them? Even an audio recording of my grandparents needs a cassette player. Consider this website: It is not just HTML and CSS and a smattering of PNG images. It is WordPress and PHP and Apache and MySQL and FreeBSD and Pair.com and electricity and the Internet. What future does it have? It hardly holds interest for anyone now; of what interest will it be when I am gone?

But books, barring insect, fire, or flood, will remain.

And if my children do not play here, perhaps one day my grandchildren will.

Some Days

Chilly. On mornings like this I’m encouraged to stay in bed by warm blankets, warm cats, and the cold air. Funny how the summer’s heat encourages the same. I do like my cozy bed. But I’ll pad to the stove and put on the kettle for tea. The flock of robins on the bare branches of the maple next door, black against the grey sky, chatters about their plans for the day.

I found another wonderful thing on the Internet: the weather maps by The Dark Sky Company. Click on that link. I’ll wait.

Continue reading “Some Days”