and the madness and contagion rage on...

This is just a short, stream-of-consciousness reflection concerning denial: how did we ever get to the point where wearing a mask or practicing simple acts of public health safety for the common good became reasons for violence, insurrection, or hatred? Is white insecurity SO out of control that we will willingly kill one another rather than than go the extra mile to keep one another safe? As President Elect Biden said earlier today: The current resident of the White House's behavior is embarrassing. It is also deadly, selfish, and mean-spirited. So, too, his seemingly callous and ignorant minions. I never thought I would live to see such cold-hearted stupidity. I am encouraged by the race for a vaccine: what usually takes eight years has almost been accomplished in 11 months. And STILL the madness anc contagion rages on without any sign of abating...

Two inter-related thoughts:  first, on Saturday I got my flu and pneumonia vaccines - and by Sunday afternoon I was achy and wiped-out. Head-achy and exhausted today until I took some pain meds. I kept thinking: this is a mess but imagine what Covid-19 feels like - at least I'm not dying alone as I suffocate in isolation. Bile and anger are swirling around within me even as I pray to the Lord for perspective. And second, this morning Di an I put the contagion in the context of our region: Berkshire County has about 130,000 people - half of those already dead from the virus - add in Hampshire County, another 160,000 - and all of Western Massachusetts would be gone. No exceptions.

Later this the morning, we got this Thanksgiving card from our loved ones in

Brooklyn. I added it to the growing display of their cards by our breakfast table, returning thanks for having played virtual chess with Louie yesterday while Di read Anna a picture book story. On the flip side was Joy Harjo's hauntingly beautiful poem, "Perhaps the World Ends Here."

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.

The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.
We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.
It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.
At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.

Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table
This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.

Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.
We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.

At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.