2020—The Year of More
EGAD. What a year!
As I sit—writing—in my living room this brisk December day, coronavirus deaths in the United States have exceeded 300,000. In Ohio, more than 40% of all COVID tests are returned with positive results. Governor DeWine has mandated daily statewide shutdowns from 10 pm until 5 am, and the state is now ranked in the “purple” (highest positivity rate) category. My sister—a nurse in Sacramento who cares for COVID patients—often texts me photos that show her garbed from head-to-toe in protective gear. She’s horrified but simultaneously pragmatic, recently commenting that some people “make it” while others die. Sometimes the deaths seem to crush her.
It is hard to imagine that 2020 could have any bright spots, but that’s not true. Many great things have come to pass this year.
On the “bright side,” my first chapbook of poetry was published by The Poetry Box Press out of Portland, Oregon. Just the Girls: A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies; A Drift of Honeybees is a celebration of women, with the cover a co-creation between my daughter and niece (the cover took 2nd place in an international Cover-of-the-Month Contest from https://allauthor.com/cover-of-the-month-winners/ ). This little book became a “best seller” for The Poetry Box.
https://thepoetrybox.com/bookstore/just-girls
I had other poems published this year, too—in Volney Road Review, Coffin Bell,
Common Threads, and Raw Data: Living in the Fallout from the Coronavirus (https://rawdatafalloutfromthecoronavirus.blogspot.com/2020/08/blue-jean-blues-anderson.html ),
but the most exciting new news came in November when Finishing Line Press accepted my manuscript of cardiac poems for publication in 2021. I began writing this collection after my husband’s 2015 heart attack/recovery; knowing that these poems will be published is a highlight from the year.
It was a year of Zoom. Poetry readings and catch-ups with family and friends. My husband and I attended Zoom memorial services—one attended by almost 150 friends and including lots of photos, music, stories, laughter, memories, and a fair amount of toasting with adult beverages. The other service was more intimate and was our first-ever Buddhist service. Rest in peace to these two friends and to everyone else lost in 2020.
This year, I wrote more letters—sent more postcards—and read more books. I wrote a collection of children’s poems and, with my husband, am working on a collection of poems based around blues music. Together, we took more hikes, and I posted more landscape photos on Facebook and Instagram. I volunteered to work the polls on Election Day, garbed in as much protective gear as possible while also doing my part for the Presidential Election.
I masked up—kept my distance—washed my hands—and consumed far more television news than was good for me.
As the year comes to a screeching halt, I know none of us will forget it. In 100 years, people will still talk and write about 2020. But, for now, I’m glad to say farewell to 2020—you ruthless wench.
AND…hello there, 2021!
