Winter goals 2020/2021

I am thinking about a few things as I begin this post.

I’m thinking about this one time (probably during a summer break in my college years) when my younger brother, Vinnie, and I went to a gathering with some of my friends at a bar in New York City. My family was there for the weekend, maybe? The details aren’t that important. Except the one detail, which is that as the night wore on, Vinnie, who is decidedly more introverted than me, said we should leave, and I said we should stay, and he got mad and accused me of being aggressively social. He used poetic language and metaphors, comparing me to a bird of prey, I think. It was a real fight, but it was funny. It was also true. I like being social. I love people and, although I’m getting better at it the older I am, I’m not great at taking time for myself, even when I need it. I don’t mean “self care” exactly. I mean that when I have downtime, I often start planning something, instead of reading, for instance - which is an activity I claim I want more of in my life. It’s not always bad to be the one planning social events. But it’s not always necessary either.

I’ve thought about this quite a bit since March hit. I’ve thought: “This would be an excellent time to get better at being alone, Cara.” I mean, the funny thing is, I like being alone. I just don’t practice it enough.

I’m thinking, too, about the list I made when the pandemic first hit, and how, yes, it was silly to rush into crafting such a lofty set of goals right away, but hey, I didn’t know this thing would last so long. None of us did (ok, some doctors obviously did). I also didn’t know that once my children started online school, having “goals” would become laughable. However, I’m reading over that list now, and I’ve done some of them! I did rearrange our kitchen. I’ve had lots of “virtual nights out” with friends. We have been training our dog to get the newspaper. It isn’t working. Yet we try and try and she is very proud of herself despite an underwhelming achievement at best.

Which brings me to the other thing I’ve been thinking about: the reason I’ve made summer goals, and other lists of goals in the past, is to have something there at the ready to fill the void, to make the season memorable and to provide a sense of progress. Whether fun, or nonsensical or quite serious, I’ve made these lists when presented with extra time (hence, summer) and when everything shut down in March that is exactly what I figured we’d have. For, like, three weeks or something. Memories of a more innocent past.

Even though I didn’t end up with as much time as I thought, I started on some of those goals simply because I’d stated them in the first place. The first step.

I didn’t make my traditional list of “summer goals” because it seemed absurd to create a lighthearted list during an ongoing pandemic (also, the summer was a time of respite from the virus’s harsh onset, and you might say my summer goal was singular: to enjoy those months with people I love). I still find it problematic. How we are continually looking for the positive, for the meaningful, in the midst of this awful state of affairs.

But we do. We are human and we strive and we do. Things are getting worse this fall, as many experts predicted, and there is plenty of reckoning to come. My children and their classmates are back home doing distance learning until January, at least, after a heartening fall of in-person school. We are - because we should, and because the days are colder and shorter - settling into a more homebound existence once again. While we can remain ever-hopeful about what’s ahead in 2021, we can’t ignore the onslaught of bad news.

But it seemed like an ok time to start up with the goals again. Winter goals, to give my family, and myself, something to work towards while our traditional activities are on sabbatical.

Also, winter goals to as a means to get better at keeping my own company. Vinnie, I’ll make you proud, although I still very much resent the bird comparison.

On that note, I will say that I think we’ll all look back on this time and wish we’d spent more hours indulging in the forced languor of this strange interim. And I think that those of us who can, should, especially now that we can see the potential light at the end of this epic tunnel. Taking care of others is the goal, and staying home is how you do that. Watching television. Reading mindless thrillers. Working in our beds even though everybody says you should “keep up your daily routine” and whatnot.

So I’ve included some items in that category. Because, as we all know, sometimes you have to schedule the downtime or it doesn’t happen.

The rest are a random combination. A few are ideas Gabe and I came up with recently while we were waiting for his friend at a park and I decided, right then and there, that we should start this list of winter goals (“visit a bog” was a result of my misspelling something on my phone, but we decided to keep it in the spirit of adventure). Some are from my 2020 New Year’s resolutions which were weirdly prescient, all items I’m capable of completing in this unusual year. Others are totally new, some are remnants of lists past, never forgotten, never completed.

They are, more than ever, a source of distraction and, as always, a call to action. Or, non-action, which…I’m working on! Join me, make your own, hold me to them!

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winter goals 2020/2021

1. Train Maisie to be the best dog ever.

2. Try one new recipe a week.

3. Build a snowman.

4. Visit a bog.

5. Hang more paintings and kids’ artwork up in our house.

6. See a new bird (Gabe).

7. Have a bubble tea (Nora).

8. Finish my book of essays.

9. Re-watch “The West Wing.”

10. Make the laundry area more organized and delightful/less gloomy and ominous.

11. Head to our old neighborhood in New Haven for the “Fantasy of Lights”.

12. Stay in bed until 9 am (at least once).

13. Write every day.

14. Organize our photos.

15. Watch a comedy special (suggestions?!)

16. Paint a rainbow on Aidy’s wall.

17. More family hikes.

18. Go snowshoeing.

19. Take an online class/continue one you started in spring (when you thought you had all that time).

20. Make a habit of reading in the living room in the early evening (if only a little!) before the dinner and bedtime rush begins.

21. Set up a basement gym (J).

22. Keep up the regular fire pits, runs and walks with friends and online happy hours.

23. Start knitting again/maybe/at least teach the children.

24. Fix the broken teapot.

25. Finish “Ulysses.”

November 3, 2020

When I trained for the NYC marathon (the first and only marathon I will ever run), I experienced the much talked about “taper” that comes at the end of such long-distance training. Seasoned runners are well aware of the technique: when you cut down on mileage significantly in the days leading up to the race to conserve energy. There’s an anxiety that comes with it, termed, poetically, “taper madness,” when many runners feel on edge due to the decrease in exercise combined with the looming race.

I had taper madness big time before the marathon. I felt jumpy and annoyed. Yesterday, the day before this momentous election, I felt something like that madness again, although not due to a lack of running. It was due, of course, to the almost-here-one-day-more-this-is-it upcoming presidential election, which we’ve all been talking about for, oh, some time now.

I had some short writing assignments to complete that I sabotaged with frantic texting and news scrolling. I finally gave up, ate about 15 Hersheys miniatures left over from Halloween then started cleaning out the refrigerator. Nora smiled at me like I (instead of she) was a child. “What are you doing?” she asked, kindly.

“I feel crazy,” I told her, Krackel wrappers escaping my pockets. “Cleaning stuff out makes me feel better.”

In the evening I made myself some tea that had the word “calming” in big letters on the box and got into bed, where my current book (the soothing “Gilead” by Marilynne Robinson) put me near coma-like sleep within a few paragraphs. I woke up at 5 am, knowing that our alarm - which we never set - was going to go off at 6 so I could get to the polling place near-first-thing. There was no point trying to get back to sleep, although I lay there in the evaporating darkness for the next hour.

Around 6:30 am, armed with my coffee, a magazine, sweater, coat and hat, I walked down to the elementary school where we vote in state elections. I joined the line of people, masked and maintaining distance between each other, that was backed up past the school sign, my heart full.

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I love Election Day. The feeling of purpose and duty. The sense that we are all in it together, even when we don’t agree on the outcome. I know the stakes are too high this year for any real sense of “togetherness,” but I felt it this morning. On my walk by the pond with the ducks. Past the houses full of families just getting up. In line with my fellow neighbors, voters, Americans.

Inside the school - which is, by the way, my kids’ school - when the helpful volunteers asked: do you have any questions? And: does your street name start with a letter between A and L? Younger poll workers this year because, I suppose, young people heeded the call to help out when needed during this endless pandemic. Heart even fuller.

And then, rounding the corner and into the gym, the feeling got strong enough that I had to take a few deep breaths and stifle some tears (get it together, it’s time to vote! I told myself) because there on the walls were messages of positivity (“It’s ok to make mistakes!) and children’s drawings decrying bullying and championing the power of optimism.

Inside the gym, by the wide entrance doors, were colorful name tags. The students and teachers must have left them there one day, and now they’d become cheerful decor. I looked - as I made my way towards the check-in table and voting booths, small chairs indicating the six-feet marks - and saw they were names I recognized: my first grader’s classmates and teacher. And there, sure enough, was hers: “Aidy,” it said, black marker on a polkadot sticker.

Aidy, my most emotional and ebullient child, who has been concerned about my level of concern regarding this election. She sensed the urgency. She asked me about it often.

So, yesterday, I said to her: “Guess what tomorrow is? Finally?”

Blue eyes wide, then wider. “Is it the vote?!” she asked.

I replied, “Yes!”