Flying back from a trip a year ago, we disembarked at the same time as passengers from a plane coming from Beijing. The crew and all passengers were wearing masks. I remember telling my friend how dystopian it looked, and we cracked some jokes about it.
Another two weeks have passed, but I haven’t yet sprouted wings from the rumoured side effects of the Moderna vaccine. I can’t claim that I am an archangel, nor even a minion.
It’s 2021, but on the racial-justice front, one could be forgiven for thinking we’re back in 1921. That’s the year that white citizens of Tulsa, Oklahoma, went on a rampage in the segregated city’s Black neighbourhood, looting and torching hundreds of houses, businesses, churches and schools.
A few weeks back I was lucky to get a vaccination against the Covid-19 virus that everyone in the world clamouring for, unless you live in virus-free New Zealand, thanks to the strict rules set by their government
I haven’t been out and about much this winter. It’s been almost a year since I last visited a restaurant or even a fast-food joint.
Being stuck in Waswanipi because of the pandemic has its benefits. I travel less and I rest more. I’ve begun playing chess.
It’s been a long year, a sad and dangerous year. Covid-19 has played hell with just about every aspect of our lives.
I am spending a lot of time meditating in my kitchen
My freshly sanitized hands are, at first, gleamingly dry and slightly chapped with cracking fingerprints.
For years Dan Isaac has been a part of the Nation. An important part we must admit.
