Today, I hosted my first Substack discussion group. I had one participant, Amy. (Thank you, Amy). We had a hearty conversation about the different experiences we’ve had during the Covid years. We easily filled the time, and walked away with many more stories to tell.
It was nice to talk about it. Lately, it has felt as if we had been pressured into moving on. The many crimes of Covid have joined the forbidden topics of the politically correct.
It was really nice to talk about it.
Tomorrow, I am scheduled to be on what I was thinking would be my first ever podcast.
Then, I remembered, I have been on a podcast before.
Several weeks after my mom’s death, I was invited to show several of my new crochet pieces at a local gallery.
I was in a strange, emotional state of mind. I was traumatized by the events of the previous months, and I was not thinking clearly. I was not thinking at all.
I had no idea what I should do next. I decided to do whatever seemed as if it had needed doing. Union Street Gallery, in Chicago Heights, appeared in my path. I figured that that was where I was supposed to be.
I had an unnatural surge of energy, and I invested it into this surprise opportunity.
Never having worked as a professional artist, I opened up a studio, and started my own program of teaching art classes to kids.
My time at Union Street lasted six months. The same length of time as my mom’s sickness, incidentally. The six months were spent in a state of post-tramautic stress.
Having art and my studio to focus on was good for me. It was what I needed at that time.
But I barely remember it. The whole thing is a daze.
In July, 2023, I was on a podcast. The host was my dog-park friend, Haseena. The topic was Leaps of Faith.
I had taken several leaps of faith during the Covid years. The gallery was a big one.
As I said, I was in a daze. I don’t remember much of the interview.
I also haven’t watched the interview. I worry that it would bring up some difficult feelings from that time of my life. I’m still working on the difficult feelings from another time of my life.
One step at a a time.
I’m not ready to watch it, but I don’t mind sharing it.
My mom passed on December 13, 2022. The podcast is dated July 27, 2023.
Seems like a hundred years ago. So much has changed.
Your crochet is beautiful, so sorry for your recent loss of your son and mom.
Your crochet is amazing! Your story has been spellbinding and heartbreaking. The world has sure changed drastically in the last four years. How innocent and naive we were. We older folks have got to hang in and fight for the kids and future generations. I pray to God daily they will have a future and one not full of the present evil and pain. ✝️🙏💕