Putting my money where my heart is

At one of the morning kickoff sessions at the recent Childless Collective Summit, organizer Katy thanked those who had paid for an extended access package, giving them access to all the presentations for up to a full year (as well as other exclusive perqs) after an initial 24-hour free period. (Packages are still available, by the way!)  She confessed that she felt uncomfortable making sales pitches (me too!) -- but explained that she had used her own money, not to mention hours & hours of her spare time (while holding down a full-time job) to organize the summit, mostly unassisted. Ten per cent of the profits from the extended access packages were donated to the Black Women's Health Imperative. Katy also said she planned to use any leftover funds to provide some compensation to the 28 speakers who offered their time and services for the summit, and additional goodies perqs for the extended access passholders.

I thought Katy did a great job in providing some free access for all, balanced with extended access for a fee (and told her so in the comments).  I bought one of the extended access passes, in part because I doubted I would be able to watch all of the things I wanted to see within the 24-hour free timeframe (and I was right!) -- but also because I'd like to see more such summits in the future, and because I've become much more conscious lately of where I want to direct my money and support.  

Throughout my adult/working life, I've made donations to various organizations and causes. I've made memorial donations when loved ones have passed away to organizations such as the Canadian Cancer Society and Alzheimer's Society, as requested. I handed out money to almost every neighbourhood kid who knocked on the door of my house, selling chocolate bars for their school or asking me to sponsor them for Jump Rope for Heart at their school, or the Terry Fox Run, or to buy their Girl Guide cookies. I had monthly deductions taken from my paycheque for many years to support our local United Way, which funds a number of great local initiatives. I made regular donations to both of my alma maters (asking that the funds be used specifically to support student life at the residence where I lived during my four years of undergrad, and the journalism program I attended in graduate school).  When we went to church regularly (cough), we signed up for giving via regular envelopes (and received a tax receipt in return at the end of the year). I gave money regularly to Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD Canada) for several years, because too many people in my life have had their lives negatively affected -- or ended altogether -- by drunk drivers. And dh & I were longtime regular donors to the pregnancy loss support group that we attended as clients and then volunteered with as facilitators for 10 years.  

When both of us lost our jobs (in 2013 & 2014), we immediately looked for ways to pare down our expenses until we figured out what our new financial situation would look like -- and as a result, we stopped making most of our usual donations. We're now both retired/pensioners (!), and while we are living quite comfortably in retirement, our resources are not unlimited.  We've been able to resume making some donations, and I'm still giving money to larger/more established charities from time to time. But (as we used to say in the corporate world), I'm trying to be "more strategic" these days -- to give some thought about where I want to direct my funds and why, and to make more, smaller, meaningful donations to the causes that I (and the people I love) care about the most.  

For example, one of my best friends from high school lost her daughter in a tragic car accident a little over a year ago (mentioned here).  She loved animals, and her family has set up a scholarship fund that helps send local kids to spring break/summer camp run by the local humane society.  I've donated to the fund on my own, as well as together with my high school classmates. 

Another friend -- a former blogger and childless mom like me -- established a charity in memory of her neighbour and good friend who died of cancer. Every month, she and a group of friends get together (via Zoom these days, in person during pre-COVID times) to knit & crochet for good causes. Over the past nine years, they've donated more than 1,500 "chemo caps" for cancer patients and 1,100 infant loss items, such as tiny hats and receiving blankets, for local hospitals. I don't knit or crochet, but it's a great cause I wanted to support, and I love to help out by making occasional cash donations to help purchase yarn and embellishments. 

I've been looking for ways to support the childless community as well. Besides paying for an extended access pass to the recent summit, I'm a paid member of the private online Gateway Women community, which supports the wonderful work that Jody Day, Karin Enfield-deVries and Gateway Women have been doing for the past decade to support childless women around the world and to change the cultural conversation about childlessness. (The first month of community membership is free, and there are several different membership levels available.)  Gateway Women has also launched a 10th anniversary appeal and you can now make direct donations through its website!  

I'm a big fan of The Full Stop podcast for childless-not-by-choicers, and they have a feature on their website where you can buy them a "Ko-fi," which I have done in the past (and intend to do again).  I'd love to buy a coffee for any & all of the three wonderful hosts, but I'm sure they will appreciate a virtual Ko-fi even more! 

It's not exactly a donation (more of an investment), but because (as a former journalist and communicator) I strongly believe in the value of quality journalism (and because I'm a news junkie who often hits the paywall on the first day of the month, lol), I have digital subscriptions to 5 (!) daily newspapers -- The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Toronto Star, The Wall Street Journal (I get access to the  WSJ with my Star subscription) and The Globe & Mail (plus several paper magazines). I currently have free subscriptions to several Substack newsletters by some excellent women/feminist writers -- all of which offer at least some free content -- and am considering upgrading to paid subscriptions for at least a few of those. 

I like free stuff as much as the next person ;) -- and the Internet has been great (almost too great, I think) in giving us free access to so, so much information and entertainment and ways to connect with others. If we had to start paying for all the stuff we've become accustomed to getting for free, we'd have some very hard decisions to make.  (There are only so many digital news and Substack subscriptions and online streaming services that I can afford -- or make good use of...!)  

But "free" is never completely free -- someone somewhere is paying for it, if not with money then certainly in terms of time and effort. And I think that if we enjoy and appreciate what they do, we need to support them however we can -- with "likes" and "shares" and comments, with volunteer hours, and sometimes with our dollars, too. 

What are some of your favourite causes to support? 

A favour

Yesterday afternoon, a message popped up from an old friend from our pregnancy loss group (D). She & her family used to live in the same area where we had our house & ran the group, but a couple of years ago they moved out to the west coast (several thousand miles away).  

D said "I have a favour to ask you, and I completely understand if you would rather not."  She explained that her 90-year-old aunt lives in a small community just north of where we now live.  D had arranged for her covid vaccine appointment.  You MUST make your appointment online (at the moment, anyway) -- no phone calls, no walk-ins or in-person appointment requests taken at vaccination centres. 

(The uptake for the 80+ group has been much lower than expected -- well, DUH....!!  Many seniors are not computer or cellphone-literate, and not everyone has computer-savvy family or friends nearby to help out, right?  I guess there are some community service groups that are making appointments for people who need assistance, but seriously? I mentioned this to D and she said, "My aunt was SO confused... broke my heart." :(  ) 

Anyway, D asked if... we would consider printing off the confirmation form and other paperwork her aunt needs to bring to her appointment next week and drive it up to where she lives (about 20-30 minutes away, tops) and drop it off at her apartment. 

I did ask dh before saying yes, just to be sure he was okay with it (since he'd be doing the driving!)  and he said, "How can we NOT do it??"  So I responded that of course we could do that, and it would be great to have an excuse to get out of the house for a while, lol.  She was SO happy & grateful.  

And then about half an hour later the phone rang -- it was a delivery person downstairs. Dh looked at me quizzically (like, "What did you order NOW?"  lol)  but I knew immediately that D must have sent us something as a thank you (because that's the kind of person she is) -- and sure enough, it was a florist with a beautiful bouquet, and a card from D attached.  (D also brought dh & me flowers to our last meeting as support group facilitators, 11+ years ago, which I wrote about here!)  

A lovely bouquet from our friend.

After lunch this afternoon, I put the paperwork in my purse and we drove to D's aunt's house. It took us less than half an hour, on a cloudy but mild spring day. It was so nice to get out of the house and out in the countryside for a bit. I called and left a message before we left and she was waiting on her porch when we arrived.  We left a few minutes later, feeling like we'd done something good. :) 

I don't know if D's aunt is childless -- but she is clearly alone and in need of some assistance, at least when it comes to technological matters -- and this was such a small, simple thing we could do. (She does have someone to take her to the appointment -- I'm guessing it's someone who is also older and similarly not tech-savvy...!)  

All I could think was that someday I might be 90 and alone and in need of some help -- hopefully our nephews would be able to do something like that for me, but who knows??  

#MicroblogMondays: Childless Woodstock* :)

Back in August 1969, half a million kids -- the oldest children of the post-WWII baby boom -- some of whom were regarded by their families and communities and the media of the day as long-haired freaks -- descended on a dairy farm in upstate New York for what was billed as "three days of peace, love and music."  They took a look around in awe, at all these other long-haired freaky kids just like themselves, and realized they were not only not alone, they were a force to be reckoned with. They had power.  They called themselves "Woodstock Nation."  

Maybe I'm stretching things here just a bit ;)  but I feel like I just spent the weekend at the childless equivalent of Woodstock* (minus the drugs & the mud, lol), being inspired and empowered and (yes) entertained by the rock stars of our community -- a community that some people didn't even know existed until they showed up and looked at all the other people around them -- all of us outsiders in both the parenting and infertility communities that envelop us (and sometimes threaten to smother us) -- and realized that we, too, are a force to be reckoned with -- on average, representing one in five people (20%!) in any given developed country.  

For most of the past four days, I've been sitting in front of my laptop, bleary-eyed and slightly delirious, basking in the company of my peeps -- 2,700!!! childless-not-by-choice women (and a few men)!!! -- at the online Childless Collective Summit, organized by Katy of Chasing Creation.  (I also crammed in a Gateway Women Zoom cafe within the GW private community, a quarterly online gathering of childless elders organized by Gateway Women's Jody Day, plus a private Zoom call with some ALI blogging friends thrown in for good measure, lol.)  

I closed my laptop on Sunday night feeling both exhausted and exhilarated (and if *I'm* exhausted, I can't imagine how Katy is feeling this morning...!!), and thinking that perhaps (finally! finally!!), we too are on the verge of becoming a force to be reckoned with. 

You guys, I have been consciously living without children for almost 20 years now, and blogging for more than 13 of those years. 2,700 may not be quite half a million strong (yet!!) -- but!!! 20 years ago -- even 13 (or 10, or 5) years ago -- the idea that there would be 2,700 of us gathered together (online, but hey, pandemic...), talking openly to each other about our childless-not-by-choice experiences, sharing hopes and fears and tears, exchanging social media handles and other contact details, and organizing Facebook groups and regular Zoom meetups -- and that there would be so many amazing speakers, representing so many different aspects of our shared experiences, providing wisdom and guidance -- it would have been -- it was -- it is! -- absolutely, completely MINDBLOWING. 

I'm normally a bit shy, even among other childless women -- and I find it hard to venture outside of my comfort zones -- but I found myself commenting on some of the summit Facebook posts and in the chats and sharing some of the knowledge and resources I've accumulated over the past 20 years. I posted the link to this blog in a couple of places, inviting people to come check it out -- using my own/real name, even! -- which would NOT have happened 13 years ago, lol.  I ventured into an online/Zoom social hour, partly because I'd never been in a Zoom session that used breakout rooms, and I was curious how it would work. It was a lot of fun -- in the first breakout group, I wound up with Melissa Jones of Live Childfree, with whom I've chatted online previously;  in the second, three of the five of us turned out to live in or near Toronto. What are the odds? 

Yes, I've been hanging around childless online forums for 20 years now, and a lot of the ideas presented were familiar to me (disenfranchised grief, pronatalism...), but I still found myself getting teary-eyed at certain points in some of the presentations.  Many of the presenters were familiar to me too (and I think I could even call a few of them friends  ;) ) -- Jody Day, Lisa Ann Kissane, Lesley Pyne, Justine Froelker, Yvonne John, Kate Kaufmann, Tracey Cleantis Dwyer, Erik & Melissa Jones, Stephanie Phillips -- but some were not, and it was great to be introduced to these vibrant new voices.  

Katy said her goals for the summit included sharing resources, creating community and helping us feel supported. She achieved that in spades!  It was great for me, as a "veteran" (dare I say? -- gulp -- "elder"??) -- but I can only imagine how great it must have been for the many younger women attending who are only just starting to grapple with the reality of a childless life, who had never heard of some of the wonderful speakers and communities and ideas/concepts and books and other resources that were shared during the summit.  

If you missed out on the fun, extended access passes are still available for at least a few more weeks that will grant you access to all the summit presentations (plus other goodies). Personally, I am really glad I purchased one, because although I managed to sit in on most of the presentations/chats as they unfolded live, there were some I missed, and some I will definitely want to revisit. 

I have a few other thoughts that I jotted down during the summit that may or may not become future posts.... if/when I can gather my thoughts, I'll share those with you too!  

Did you attend the summit?  What did you think? 

(Of course, adoption, loss and infertility (ALI) bloggers (including those of us now living without children) already know the power of community, thanks to people like Melissa at Stirrup Queens, who has been creating a community among us for almost 15 years now through her blog and regular features such as the Friday Blog Roundup and... #MicroblogMondays. :)  ) 

You can find more of this week's #MicroblogMondays posts here.  

*  I cannot take credit for the Woodstock allusion... someone (I'm not sure who) mentioned Woodstock in one of the summit session chats, and it stuck with me as I started to write this post. Thank you for the inspiration, whoever you are!  

"The Vanishing Half" by Brit Bennett

Two years ago, I was looking forward to attending my first meeting of the book club run by the local library, where we'd be discussing "The Alice Network" by Kate Quinn, which I'd recently read on my own. My happy anticipation over (finally!) getting to be a part of a real live book club was somewhat tempered when I learned the name of the next book I'd be receiving at that meeting -- a novel called "The Mothers" by a young, first-time author named Brit Bennett. 

"What are the odds, right?" I complained in a post on this blog (which I titled "The mother of all book dilemmas ;)" ). "Just one more reminder of what I am not. :p "  (I also said:  "Yes -- I am ashamed to admit -- I am literally judging a book by its cover/title.") 

As luck (?) would have it, there was a huge snowstorm the night of the book club meeting... the meeting was cancelled. I never went to the library later in the month to pick up my copy of "The Mothers" and didn't attend the next meeting either, where it was discussed. I finally got there, three months after I had first planned, and happily read books and attended meetings for a full year... until they were cancelled by COVID-19. 

*** *** *** 

I found myself thinking about "The Mothers" when I heard that Brit Bennett had a new novel coming out last summer called "The Vanishing Half." It quickly became one of the most critically acclaimed books of 2020. I will admit my interest was piqued when I heard that it was about the complex relationship between twin sisters.  I've always been fascinated by twins and other multiples -- and I wrote about this in a couple of early posts on this blog, here and here.  As I said then: 

...my sister & I were close enough in age (21 months apart) & looked sufficiently alike (especially when were little, although we never really saw it -- and our personalities were certainly not the same) and, when we were younger, dressed alike, that many people would mistake us for each other & ask whether we were twins.

I already had a copy of "The Vanishing Half" in my TBR pile when it was chosen as the first pick of the new online book club I recently joined, to be discussed at a Zoom meeting early in April. (The organizer dubbed it the "Clever Name Book Club," assuming that we'd choose another permanent, clever name... so far, it's still the "Clever Name Book Club," and I'll use that title here until we come up with something different/better, lol.)  

"The Vanishing Half" is the story of twins Desiree and Stella Vignes, who grow up in the tiny community of Mallard, Louisiana, where everyone is black, but light skinned, and dark-skinned people are shunned. Their father is lynched in front of them when they are children. At 16, they run away together to New Orleans... and then their paths begin to diverge, driven by their different personalities. Stella gets a secretarial position after "passing for white" at the job interview. A while later, she disappears in the middle of the night. Desiree moves to Washington, D.C., marries "the darkest man she could find," and later returns to her mother's house in Mallard with her daughter, Jude. Years later, Jude is working as a server at a Hollywood party when a chance encounter changes her life -- and many others. 

I found the book interesting but a little slow to get into at the start, as the characters and situations were established. Then, somewhere around the middle, things got REALLY interesting, and I zoomed through the latter two-thirds in a single afternoon/evening.  There is lots and lots to think about here:  questions of identity, the different roles we play (acting/performance), creation and reinvention, visibility and invisibility, the push and pull of family relationships, secrets and lies and the toll they take -- and, of course, the lasting impact of race, which influences everything in the story. 

4 stars on Goodreads. I'm looking forward to our book club discussion. (And thinking that maybe, just maybe, I will give "The Mothers" a try...)  

This was Book #15 read to date in 2021 (and Book #3 finished in March), bringing me to 42% of my 2021 Goodreads Reading Challenge goal of 36 books. I am (for the moment, anyway...!) 8 books ahead of schedule. :)  You can find reviews of all my books read to date in 2021 tagged as "2021 books." 

#MicroblogMondays: Annoying things & small pleasures

 

Annoying things: 

• I broke my glasses on Thursday morning. The nosepiece/bridge between the two lenses snapped in half while I was cleaning them. :(  These were my reading/computer glasses -- not my regular/everyday glasses, fortunately (which are progressives/multifocals, but still not great for using the computer) -- but I still use them a lot and definitely noticed the difference when I lost the use of them. I've had them for 8 years. 
• Small (big?!) pleasure:  Fortunately (?), I was scheduled for a checkup at the optometrist today (almost two years since my PVD)... and they just happened to have a  spare nosepiece on hand that fit my broken glasses perfectly!  What a relief!
• My regular glasses are six years old -- at least, the lenses are -- I broke THOSE frames 2.5 years ago, just a few days before FIL died.  Fortunately, they were able to order a new pair of frames and just pop in the old lenses at that time.  My prescription for those has changed slightly, but the dr decided it wasn't enough to warrant new lenses at this time... which was also a relief/small pleasure.  (How do you try on new frames in a safe/socially distanced way -- touching frames that dozens of other people have probably handled before you...! -- and know how they're going to look while you're wearing a mask??) 
• Also a relief/small pleasure:  Not having another big expense, on top of dentist appointments for both of us in early January (partly covered by our workplace dental insurance), a filling and a new replacement crown for me last month (not covered) and a new laptop after my previous one (just 2 & 1/2 years old) unexpectedly died in mid-February.  Ouch.  
• The smell of cannabis from a neighbour's unit, wafting through the cracks of our condo unit door on a fairly regular basis (including once at 7:30 a.m. on a weekday... seriously??!) . :p  (We have our suspicions about which neighbour it is.) Yes, it's legal here now (which is why people are indulging more openly/frequently, I suppose), but:  (1) dh & I don't indulge, (2) quite frankly it reeks, and (3) it's amazing how far and how strongly the smell can spread. One of the not-so-good things about condo life! 
• For a long time, I thought we might have a skunk infestation in or around the building... before someone confirmed our suspicions that it might be a (ahem) plant-based smell instead of an animal.  ;)  The smell is nothing like what I remembered from my college party days (gulp... 40?!  years ago...), and it turns out that pot today has changed a lot from the stuff back then (including the way it smells)... who knew?! 
• (This is the kind of thing you'd expect a parent to say -- "think of the children!!"  lol -- but there ARE babies/young children living in this building and on this floor. Not something you think they should be exposed to this early in life, right?)(Of course, who knows, it might be their parents, lol...) 
• Two different pilot programs offering AstraZeneca vaccinations for people in our age group (60-64) -- one though certain pharmacies and one through family doctors' offices -- but none in the area where we live.  And so we wait... (Most of the vaccinations being done right now are for people 80 and older.)  
• Encountering not just one, not just two, but THREE maskless people in the common areas of our condo building last Saturday night, in violation of posted rules (including two in the parking garage and one in the elevator when we got on... he did reach into his pocket and put his on when he saw us, but...!)  

(Other) Small pleasures: 

• Haircuts!! (finally!! -- after 14 weeks!!)(Last spring/summer, we went 17 weeks without.)
• Learning that our regular hair stylist (currently not back at work after the latest lockdown) is moving to another salon back in our old community. I'm glad she will be returning to work soon, and in a location where we can still go to see her. 
• Balancing my chequebook -- and actually getting it to balance! lol  (Am I showing my age here? -- &/or perhaps my banking background??  lol Does anyone else actually keep a chequebook register and/or balance it anymore??) 

What annoying things &/or small pleasures are you noticing lately? 

You can find more of this week's #MicroblogMondays posts here.  

"The Last Normal Day," one year later

One year ago today was what I refer to as "The Last Normal Day."*  By that point, we knew we were on the verge of something big & ominous -- the World Health Organization had just officially declared a pandemic the day before (March 11th) -- but I don't think any of us had any idea of just how much our lives -- EVERYONE's lives, all over the world! -- were going to be affected -- or that we'd still be very much in the thick of things a full year later. It's... interesting... to go back & read over my blog posts from late February/early March last year and see how the growing pandemic started creeping its way into our individual and collective consciousness... (something I detailed in a recent post).   

Thursday, March 12th, 2020, was the last day that was more or less filled with normal activities for me & dh.  We'd already done our usual grocery shopping on Monday -- but, given the rumblings in the news, we decided to go, again, and stock up on some staples. We went before noon and had some lunch in the food court area of the supermarket (as we often did, a few times a week -- pizza slice for him, soup for me), and then did our shopping.  It was already much busier than usual, people stalking the aisles with loaded carts and grim expressions. We were very glad we went when we did, because later that evening, and over the next few days, the TV news reports showed long lineups stretching around the perimeters of many local supermarkets, with increasingly empty shelves. 

The toilet paper aisle was already completely empty. I couldn't resist taking a photo. (Here it is, in a blog post I wrote a few days later.) After we returned home and put away the groceries, we headed out again to the bookstore for a browse, Starbucks drinks in hand.  We're normally there at least once a week, often twice and sometimes three times. We didn't return to the bookstore until July, almost four months later, and since then, our visits have been a lot further and fewer between (with another three-month pause during our most recent lockdown, from early December to early March). We still haven't been back to Starbucks. 

A few days later, on March 17th, the premier declared a state of emergency and issued a stay-at-home order that brought life to a standstill.  All non-essential retail stores (other than supermarkets & pharmacies) closed, and didn't start reopening again until mid-May, I think. We endured a second lockdown/stay-at-home order that began in mid-December and ended in mid-February (and a third may not be out of the question, with new, more contagious variants of the virus on the rise).  

Even when things have been open, we've been staying close to home.  Dh did (and has continued to do) all the grocery shopping and prescription pickups at the pharmacy, and our trips to other stores (when they've been open) have been far & few between.  We still haven't gone to a restaurant, even in the summer when outdoor patio dining was available (nevermind indoor dining) -- or to a mall, or to a movie theatre. We didn't even start ordering takeout until our 35th anniversary on July 6th.  (We do that on Saturday nights now, in lieu of our usual weekly dinner out together.)  I'm sitting on almost $1,000 worth of cancelled/postponed/rescheduled show tickets: The Elton John farewell tour concert that SIL were supposed to attend in late March (2020) has been rescheduled for February 2022;  "Hamilton" was cancelled before our scheduled performance in mid-May, but I've hung onto my tickets because if/when they manage to bring the show back, I'll get first dibs on the new seats. 

One year later, the statistics are so much worse than we could have imagined  Worldwide, 118 million people have been sick with COVID-19;  2.6 million have died.  In the U.S., there have been 29 million cases and a staggering 530,000 people are dead.  Canada has fared better than a lot of other countries (especially on a per capita basis), but the numbers are still sobering:  900,000+ cases, 22,000+ deaths.  Here in the province of Ontario, we've had almost 320,000 cases and 7,100 deaths;  the region near Toronto where dh & I live (population 1.2 million) has had nearly 30,000 cases and more than 530 deaths.  

We have been so, so lucky, in many ways.  Being retired, there are very few reasons for us to venture out beyond our condo cocoon, other than medical appointments and to pick up the essentials. (And yes, haircuts!! -- when the salons have been open.  Of all the "material" things I've been deprived of over the past year, doing without regular haircuts has been the hardest to take, I think...!)  Being childless, we have not had to worry about children at school (or not at school)(although, on the downside, we haven't had the comfort or companionship of offspring, either... we've been a lot more isolated than the people we know with kids, even adult kids).  So far, dh & I and our immediate families have managed to stay safe & healthy (knocking wood!).  Only one member of our extended family & circle of close friends has had the virus (so far, that we know of)( = dh's cousin's husband). 

But still, overall, this past year has been like nothing we could have reasonably expected or imagined. 

Hope is on the horizon, with the rapid development, testing and now distribution of several safe and highly effective vaccines.  The rollout, however, has been painfully slow and muddled here in Canada, and certainly in Ontario, where we live (as we enviously watch our friends & neighbours in the U.S. and U.K. posting their vaccine selfies on social media...). While almost 10% of Americans have received both shots so far, less than 2% of the population here in Ontario can say the same. Health care workers and long-term care home residents and staff were first in line;  mass distribution to the rest of the population is only JUST beginning, with those over 80 going first. A couple of pilot projects are starting soon that will give the AstraZeneca vaccine to people aged 60-64 (i.e., dh & me) -- one through pharmacies and one through family physicians' offices -- but so far, none of the pilots are in the region where we live. Sigh. 

Normally, we would spend at least a week or two in the summer with my family in Manitoba, as well as a week or so at Christmastime. So far, however, I'm pretty sure this will be the second summer in a row that I won't be going home.  (Crossing all my crossables for Christmas...!)  I have not seen my parents & sister since Christmastime 2019.  I've never been away from them this long before.  My parents are now in their 80s, and I am acutely aware, every time I see them now, that my time with them is limited...  Dh's aunts, uncles and cousins, as well as his stepmother and her family are all closer to us, of course -- some of them in the same community where we live -- but we haven't seen any of them in a full year now either.   

We haven't even seen that much of BIL & SIL or our two nephews, even though they're all within a 10-minute drive away. While I don't think they have much to fear from us, they're all still going out to work, and the kids see their friends and go out with them to restaurants, etc. We moved here in April 2016, in large part because we wanted to be closer to them. Not having any kids of our own (and thus no prospect of grandchildren either), we hoped to forge closer connections with our two nephews -- and to get in on some of the fun when they started having their own families. Our Little Great-Nephew was born in mid-November 2019, but our time with him has been sadly limited because of the pandemic. We missed out on his baptism (we did get to see it via the church's YouTube feed), first Easter, first Halloween, first Christmas, and spent less than an hour with him, masked, on his first birthday.  He doesn't seem to know us or recognize us on the rare occasions that we do go there for a quick, masked visit. I suppose the masks don't help with the facial recognition...!  

One thing I have been so thankful for this past year:  technology.  There was no such thing as the Internet during the 1919 pandemic -- many people still didn't even have telephones then. How much worse would this past year have been if we didn't have modern telecommunications to keep us informed, entertained and connected?  As an early pandemic meme said (something to the effect of), "Our grandparents were called to fight the Nazis... we just have to sit on the couch at home."  

And yet, even that comparatively small sacrifice has seemed to be too much for some people to manage...!  That's the saddest thing about this whole past year, I think -- how little discomfort we (or at least some of us...) seem to be able (or willing) to tolerate;  how little regard we seem to have for the individual and collective wellbeing of others. I remember reading one comment on Twitter that said something like, "As a society, we've collectively flunked the marshmallow test." No kidding...!  

Things may never be quite "back to normal" again.  But I hope that things will be different (better) by March 12, 2022... 

(* Here's an excellent article from The Atlantic this week on "The Last Good Day," and why so many of us are thinking and posting about it right now.)(Hint: it's related to grief.)  

"Eudora Honeysett is Quite Well, Thank You" by Annie Lyons

I wasn't sure whether "Eudora Honeysett is Quite Well, Thank You" (by Annie Lyons) was going to be my cup of tea -- but it quickly won me over, and kept me turning the pages. "Eudora" (titled "The Brilliant Life of Eudora Honeysett" in some markets) is the Gateway Women book club selection for March. I finished it over two days. 

Eudora Honeysett is 85 years old, unmarried, childless, cranky and reclusive, living in the same house in London where she's spent most of her long life, along with her cat, Montgomery. I don't think it's a spoiler to disclose here that, within the first few pages of the book, Eudora makes the decision to exit this life on her own terms at an assisted death clinic in Switzerland.  

But then a new family moves in next door -- including Rose, a lively 10-year-old girl, and Maggie, her heavily pregnant mother. Rose and Eudora also become friends with another elderly neighbour, Stanley, who recently lost his wife. Despite her resolve to face death sooner versus later, Eudora starts finding new reasons to keep on living. Events in the book trigger Eudora's memories of the past and, in flashbacks at the end of each chapter, we learn more about the people and events that shaped who she is today. 

I do share some of the caveats/concerns outlined by Lisa, the book club organizer, in her blog post about this book: 

"There is a significant pronatalist agenda throughout the book with ‘married with kids’ being the gold standard which Eudora never achieved. 

"I like Eudora. She is portrayed as rather bitter, the product of a life where things never quite went right. I read this book with the childless community in mind and while I was able to relate to much of Eudora’s outlook on life, I found it disappointing that the childless character was typecast as bitter, lonely, regretful and harsh. That’s not a denial that there are women like this out there, but it does play up to the old tropes that never to have borne a child or gotten married is to have failed as a woman... I might have disregarded this book due to the idea that having a child in one’s life is the only thing that can give it meaning." 

And, obviously, beyond pronatalism, if assisted suicide is a difficult subject for you, this may not be the book for you. 

However, "Eudora Honeysett" has plenty to recommend it. While not everyone needs a child in their life to find fulfilment, the value of intergenerational relationships shouldn't be discounted either.  Eudora, Stanley and Rose are all memorable characters and I loved the friendship that developed between them. I liked the book's straightforward discussions about what makes life worth living, about aging and mortality and how we should define a "good death." And I loved its messages about the importance of kindness.  

4 stars on Goodreads. Our discussion of this book on Gateway Women is only just beginning, and I'm looking forward to finding out what others thought about it!   

This was Book #14 read to date in 2021 (and Book #2 finished in March), bringing me to 39% of my 2021 Goodreads Reading Challenge goal of 36 books. I am (for the moment, anyway...!) 8 books ahead of schedule. :)  You can find reviews of all my books read to date in 2021 tagged as "2021 books."