Whatever spiritual, emotional and/or mental tools we each have acquired over the years – this is the time to use them. Our world needs every gift and talent we have to share. Be brave. Be kind. Be fair. Be generous. Love. Above all else, let’s love. Let’s love like there’s no tomorrow. Let’s love without limit or condition. Let’s love like the very existence of the world depends on it. Let’s let Love guide our every word and action.
On January 19, 2020, my 101 year-old father (Dee Molenaar, a well-known mountaineer) died. Two days later, the first case of COVID-19 was reported in the United States – in a town 40 minutes to the south of my home. Ahmaud Arbery was murdered the next month, and George Floyd was killed a few months later. We watched as our friends went insane with QAnon conspiracies; our president ordered peaceful protesters tear gassed so he could hold a Bible in front of a church; and white supremacists marched in our streets waving Nazi banners and Confederate battle flags. Then – because 2020 wasn’t done with us, yet – murder hornets were found in the United States – this time in a place 40 minutes to the north of my home. And on January 6th our country was turned upside down and our democracy almost shaken out of its bag.
In an effort to process Dad’s passing, and the year that followed, I began combing through news stories, Facebook posts, and my own blog. I found moments that made me laugh out loud, and others that were gut-wrenching for me. I found moments that had me shaking my head – wondering what the hell had happened to my country – and other moments that inspired me and made me proud to be an American. At some point during this process, I realized I was creating a book.The book, Scrapbook of a Year and a Day: January 19, 2020 to January 20, 2021, consists of news stories, personal anecdotes, essays, poems, and observations of what we all lived through in 2020.
A Year and a Day
On the nineteenth of January my father died And so began the roller coaster ride that was 2020 and 20 days – a year we struggled to find our way.
At first there were empty streets and quiet weeks of smogless skies and distant peaks I found peace in the stillness – peace in the calm That time alone was a much-needed balm.
But after – a montage of images flashes now through my mind – much of it dark, some of it kind – exploding up, crashing down, fire and rage all around Our nation boils and seethes and a Black man gasps, “I can’t breathe”
Veterans protect fathers with leaf blowers who protect the mothers who protect our Black sons and daughters from tasers and guns. Ahmaud, Breonna, and George – say their names Black Lives Matter – our nation sits in shame as bigots and bullies scramble to shift the blame – and settle on “Karen” (which is really lame).
And a just woman with a doily collar and a selfish man who keeps up the holler and lie of “Stop the steal” and refuses to let the nation heal – our neighbors reel and keel in their zeal – fed rumors and news that are not real.
Dye runs down a lawyer’s face a narcissist screams, “Show your strength!” NAZI and Civil War flags fly in our streets D.C. police pummeled and beat. Racism and bullying and bigotry and hate, caskets of COVID victims, rioters climb gates Long lines for vaccinations, as people wait.
In the end the heroes win – as heroes always do – they step up and vote and stop the coup – they wear masks to protect each other – me and you – they stand up for Breonna and Ahmoud and George – and in the fiery fire a stronger land is forged. -Karen Molenaar Terrell
The cleaning started with the bedroom – I vacuumed, dusted,
filled five bags full of clothes to take to the thrift shop
when it opens again someday, and washed the curtains
so they glowed golden in the sunshine from bottom to top.
Next it was the cupboard in the family room – sorting
electronics, gizmos and gadgets, a springy door stop,
a weird stretchy thing for exercising, the sons’ old toys,
and treasure! – an old card with love from Moz and Pop.
Then the closet under the stairs – a file full of paperwork
that was important once, costumes, Thomas the Tank Engine
train set, baskets full of old magazines, and board games,
an old slide projector and carousel, winter clothing in bins.
And today I awoke slowly from a lovely afternoon nap
to see curtains glowing golden in the afternoon sunlight.
Who could have guessed to find such beauty and peace
in clean light-filled curtains – in that simple sight?
– Karen Molenaar Terrell