Barb Timmons

Glimpses of Gratitude, Covid-19 Style

The other day, I rolled out of bed pretty late, because I just couldn’t stop listening to Sugar Calling, the new Cheryl Strayed podcast. I heard a common thread running through Cheryl’s conversations with Alice Walker, “Whatever We Have, We Have to Work With It,” Judy Blume, “A Terrible Thing Is Happening, but the World Goes On,” and Pico Iyer, “Joyful Participation in a World of Sorrows.” When I finally meandered downstairs to make my ugly happy smoothie (cooked beet, coconut milk, ginger, five spice, spinach, and a few drops of rosewater) my husband presented me with a hand-addressed envelope out of our pile of stalemail—mail that had been untouched for 24 hours since our postal worker dropped it in the slot.
I opened a gorgeous card with a Japanese aesthetic; a collage created with scraps of handmade paper by our friend, the artist Tricia Bath. She’d incorporated a 13th Century quote from Rumi, one that resonated with the thoughts of the contemporary writers I’d heard on the podcast that morning, “Be grateful for all you receive, good and bad alike, for it may be a gift.”
Gentle Reader, I don’t blame you if you roll your eyes over another Rumi quote. Stay with me. All of us have lost something while living through this pandemic. You may assume that if I’m still blithely quoting Rumi, I haven’t yet lost enough. So far, Covid-19 has been less of a challenge for me than it has for those people who have lost their jobs, their loved ones, or their health—or for those people who have kept their jobs, and have had to take on the additional jobs previously performed by their nannies, their children’s teachers, their parent’s caregivers.
Unlike many, I am not overburdened. I am not lonely. I am not grieving. I am not bored. I am not deprived of touch or deprived of keeping in touch—I still have telephone service and wi-fi. All of this is to say, Covid-19 is a catastrophe on a grand scale, and it would be irresponsible for me, the most peripheral of its victims, to dismiss it with a platitude of gratitude.
Except.
Gratitude is not a platitude. Whenever we feel lost, gratitude is our road home.

My father’s roadside signs in Wallingford, CT

When my mom texted our far-flung family with pictures of homemade sign my father had created and posted by the side of their road, the challenge was on. The front of my house is premium real estate for thank you signs. Workers drive by on their way to the VA, Children’s Hospital, and university hospital.

I’d wanted to make signs that look uplifting, but I have crappy eye hand coordination and no visual aptitude; the best I could do was make signs that look kind of Gothic and creepy and desperate. I’m sorry about that.

Without exception, every day I encounter a gift someone has made in response to this Covid-19 catastrophe. If nothing else, I receive the gift of my husband’s delicious cooking, all made within the confines of my many allergies and sensitivities (no dairy, wheat, gluten, nightshades, egg, peanut, walnut, strawberry, mango…etc.)

On my worst Covid-19 day so far, the day of my comeuppance, I came back home laden with guilt and shame, only to be presented with a stalemail package that was unusually light; a gift from my friend, the singer, actress, and writer Barb Timmons. When I opened the package, I discovered this lovely note and origami figure.

Is it a coincidence that both of the stalemail gifts I am mentioning owe a debt to Japanese design? I think not. Mainstream white America has defined itself more by avarice than by adversity, making us less aware of the beauty, power and dignity we all do in fact possess in times of oppression and catastrophe.

I know very little of Japanese culture, but one day, when I had a few hours to spare between appointments at the NIH, I took the opportunity to visit an exhibit at the Smithsonian titled, “The Art of Gaman.” Gaman means “to bear the seemingly unbearable with patience and dignity.” The exhibit featured arts and crafts created by the internees in the Japanese American concentration camps during World War II. These objects were made by average citizens without any trained artistic skills. They were dazzling. They gave me the strength to persevere through whatever challenges awaited me back at the NIH that day.

We are not weakened by catastrophe. We are strengthened. Maybe not right away, but eventually. Gentle Reader, today is Mother’s Day. If you have not received a gift today, indulge yourself by giving one.

I am grateful for your time. Be well.

The Yoga Cat Will Have To Wait

A few posts back, I had promised I’d take you with me to the yoga studio over the living quarters of the Temple of My Daydreams, so you could meet the yoga cat. But did I do that?

No. I did not. Instead I inserted a post about my WEGOhealth best blog nomination, and patted myself on the back. If you do enough yoga, you learn to pat yourself pretty far down your back. Now that I’m done congratulating myself, I’d like to congratulate two of my students.  You would not believe the extraordinary quality of writing I see every week from ordinary people here in Ohio, the most ordinary state in the United States of America. My workshops generate unforgettable stories that have mostly not yet reached an audience larger than five to eighteen readers, but absolutely should. Which is why I’ve been so pleased that in the last few weeks, two of my students have managed to receive broader recognition.

I usually don’t blog about my role as a teacher. For instance, my heart just burst with pride back in February, when a student of mine, a long time community theater performer and first time playwright, received a standing ovation at the Aronoff Center for the Arts after the staged reading of her hilarious play Humble Pie. Did I blog about the staged reading? No, I did not. This is an MS blog, and Barbara Timmon’s play has nothing to do with MS. But maybe, by not blogging about my student’s success, I was playing into the notion that my life is conscribed by my disease. It is not. From now on, when one of my students deserve a pat on the back, I’m going to go ahead and pat.

My first pat on the back goes to Edith Samuels, a graduate of Vassar College. For years, I’ve been trying to find a publication for her deeply moving poetry series about a love that has persisted through Alzheimers. I was beyond thrilled when Reminisce Magazine contacted me with the acceptance of her story, The Spy Catchers, which is about her truncated surveillance career back in 1942.

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If you’re anything like me, you pass a good deal of  quality time in waiting rooms, and might easily locate the summer edition of Reminisce Magazine wedged between Neurology Now and the latest issue from AARP. You’ll find you have plenty of time to read Edith’s adventures as you wait for the sexy drug rep to stop batting her eyelashes at your neurologist. Those of you who spend your summer hours outside of medical facilities can treat yourself by listening to the author read her story here:

 

 

My second pat on the back goes to the ruthlessly honest storyteller Maria Frangakis, who first took a writing workshop with me  maybe nineteen years ago at the  Tabor Arts Center in Connecticut. Maria’s unseemly intellect and ambition earned her the nickname, La Mala in her hometown in Mexico, and has earned her an MA and an MBA here in the United States, where she has created a beautiful family as well as her own successful Biotech consulting company.

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You can read Maria’s unforgettable short story, Not So Great Expectations, by following this link to Typehouse Literary Magazine.

And while I’m doing all this promotion, I might as well prompt you, gentle reader, to buy Issue 30 of the literary magazine 34th Parallel, which features a short story of mine, Chorus of Exes. 

Those are my pats on the back. My next entry, I promise, will be about the cat in the yoga studio. It might even be about MS. (This is an MS blog, after all.) I know this much about cats: it’s not a good idea to keep a cat waiting. And I know this much about MS: I’ll keep MS waiting just as long as I can.

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If you are a fan of the blog, please consider following this link to endorse me as a “Patient Leader” in the WEGOHealth Awards. WEGOHealth is the world’s largest network of Patient Leaders, working across virtually all health conditions and topics. I would love the opportunity to broaden my reach even further. Help me out if you agree!