rollercoaster / springville
It's been a weird half a year. "Weird" is probably an understatement—it's been a pretty devastating year, with global death, governmental apathy and incompetence, and lots and lots of frustration with current police systems. Like I said in the last post, I've been finding it very difficult to share anything publicly. I've gone silent on social media since April, not knowing what could possibly be that relevant in the midst of a global pandemic. Since then, it has also seemed more forceful to highlight and strengthen black voices whenever and wherever possible, although I’m still not sure how to best do that on a personal blog. It is eerie to scroll social media now, where group party pics have resurfaced, where people are posting about their cross country road trips, where very few signs of police brutality or pandemic remain despite the steady state of relevance.
I'm not surprised that people have let their guard down--I feel like I have done the same, in some regards. Half a year is a long time to stay away from friends and family, and it's understandable that people crave social engagement in any form. I've expanded my social bubble as well—I don't live with my mom anymore but visit a couple of times a week. I visit my grandma now and then, and I've seen a friend to drop off some furniture and catch up in a nearby park. I'm an introvert and I know that I am fairly well-equipped for restricted social interaction. I had the privilege of a remote job prior to the pandemic and have the privilege of living with my very best friend. For those living in less-than-ideal situations, an opportunity to return to normal is a blessing, and I can empathize with that.
On top of Dome Rock in Sequoia National Forest
I went camping this past weekend in Sequoia National Forest, near Springville, CA, as a cautious escape. In a lot of ways it was idyllic—we camped by a river, napped in a hammock under giant trees, hiked, discussed The New Jim Crow and ways we can address our own internalized racism, saw some beautiful sunsets views. In other ways, it was extremely stress-inducing. We brought masks on all of our hikes, pulling them up whenever anyone was within sight. We wore them even as temperatures rose above a hundred degrees. A small percentage of fellow hikers returned the favor. Using any public facility, like a restroom on the road or the compost toilet near our campsite, involved careful sanitation. Was it excessive? For a lot of people, definitely, but with 341k cases in California and more than 7000 deaths, should it really seem excessive?
Open roads and golden mountains
I think what's most frustrating about the current pandemic and political climate is that everyone wants their social activity back, but fewer people are willing to take the small inconveniences that would actually make people safe and comfortable. Those who don't wear masks or abide by basic distancing and sanitation measures are somewhat protected by the hyper-vigilant, but then feel justified when nothing happens to them because they've offloaded all of the preventative burden onto other people. Honestly, camping this weekend easily could've been relatively stress-free. If that girl at the gas station covered her nose with her mask as well as her mouth, if the guy who exited to restroom actually washed his hands and wiped down the toilet and door handles as suggested, if all of the hikers on the trails wore masks when nearing other groups of people, it would've felt safer, more like a team effort, less draining. There was unspoken relief when we passed others that were also wearing masks. Almost a sigh, "Well, at least these people are trying." Perhaps they were just as conflicted on whether they should've gone on the trip in the first place, or if it would've been better and safer for everyone if they had just stayed home, but after six months, they just really needed a break.
Our campsite by the Tule River in Springville, CA.
I wish people talked about what being in public is like right now. Watching people go about their lives can be alarming, and I search for indication that lives didn't suddenly return to normal despite 138k deaths in the country, despite the fact that black people are still dying at the hands of police, that Breonna Taylor's killers are still working as policemen, that Aurora police officers took smiling selfies while reenacting a chokehold at the site where their colleagues killed Elijah McClain. It seems like we are striving for a pre-2020 normal, but really, normal isn't anywhere close to good enough.
I suppose a good question for myself would be, “What would you rather people be doing?”.
Wearing masks and social distancing, for sure, but I’m not quite sure of what else, so perhaps it’s a good reflection question to leave here.
In other news, here is a stool I built for my grandma. I made it from poplar with two Japanese hand saws and a few chisels.
