2020/2021/2022 Shelter in Place (SIP) Notes

Here are links to all our SIP notes. The links are oldest first, the SIP notes are newest first. We’re up to Number 52 so scroll down to see it or click here!

  1. SIP Note 1 from Nancy Guarnera
  2. SIP Note 2 from Terry Tosh
  3. SIP Note 3 from Tony Pino
  4. SIP Note 4 from Sue Curtzwiler
  5. SIP Note 5 from Amber DeAnn
  6. SIP Note 6 from Tish Davidson
  7. SIP Note 7 from Scott Davidson
  8. SIP Note 8 from Rekha Ramani
  9. SIP Note 9 from Carmen Von Tickner
  10. SIP Note 10 from Anita Tosh
  11. SIP Note 11 from Tony Pino
  12. SIP Note 12 from Nancy Guarnera
  13. SIP Note 13 from Cherilyn Chin
  14. SIP Note 14 from Tish Davidson
  15. SIP Note 15 from Urmila Patel
  16. SIP Note 16 from Marie Blanchard & Tony Pino
  17. SIP Note 17 from Margot Roletto
  18. SIP Note 18 from Terry Tosh
  19. SIP Note 19 from Knuti VanHoven
  20. SIP Note 20 from Nancy Guarnera
  21. SIP Note 21 from Tish Davidson
  22. SIP Note 22 from Rekha Ramani
  23. SIP Note 23 from Terry Tosh
  24. SIP Note 24 from Sue Curtzwiler
  25. SIP Note 25 from Terry Tosh
  26. SIP Note 26 from Nancy Guarnera
  27. SIP Note 27 from Scott Davidson
  28. SIP Note 28 from Sue Curtzwiler
  29. SIP Note 29 from Nancy Guarnera
  30. SIP Note 30 from Sue Curtzwiler
  31. SIP Note 31 from Terry Tosh
  32. SIP Note 32 from Evelyn LaTorre
  33. SIP Note 33 from Tony Pino
  34. SIP Note 34 from Scott Davidson
  35. SIP Note 35 from Rekha Ramani
  36. SIP Note 36 from Anita Tosh
  37. SIP Note 37 from Sue Curtzwiler
  38. SIP Note 38 from Nancy Guarnera
  39. SIP Note 39 from Scott Davidson
  40. SIP Note 40 from Carol Lee Hall
  41. SIP Note 41 from Terry Connelly
  42. SIP Note 42 from Cherilyn Chin
  43. SIP Note 43 from Diane Morninglight
  44. SIP Note 44 from Tish Davidson
  45. SIP Note 45 from George Kwong
  46. SIP Note 46 from Rekha Ramani
  47. SIP Note 47 from George Kwong
  48. SIP Note 48 from Joyce Cortez
  49. SIP Note 49 from Terry Connelly
  50. SIP Note 50 from Amber DeAnn
  51. SIP Note 51 from Pat Doyne
  52. SIP Note 52 from Leticia Escalera
  53. IP Note 53 from Sue Curtzwiler
  54. IP Note 54 from Jan Salinas
  55. SIP Note 55 from Tony Pino


Here’s your 55th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member, Tony Pino. Thanks, Tony!
I wait my turn
In the spider’s retreat.
Wired and not yet spun,
I am unable to leave.
The bodies of the flies
that fell before me
now lie still, stiff and blue-green
below the dim-lit window.
They are metallic and unmoving,
fallen knights, burnished in memory.
I am no hero,
have no desire to be here,
nor even remembered,
but only hold the hope
that the web will wither,
break, and release me
from its tightening grip
for a flight
to an opening light.
Tony Pino

Here’s your 54th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member, Jan Salinas. Thanks, Jan!
Elvis had a slogan inscribed on a medal that he wore around his neck. It read, “Take Care of Business.” Such a simple reminder can be applied anywhere, and to anything. Kinda’ like Nike’s ‘Just Do It.’
That slogan nagged at me as I filled my pandemic days with routine chores. Gotta’ get sorting, clearing—decisions, decisions. Look at that garage. I don’t know about you, but stored away are memories going back to the early 1900s that are some of my mom’s treasures. I tell the kids, “If you touch it, it’s yours.” Not interested. They have their own stuff and sentimentality goes out the window.
Age does a funny thing. For me, with time to reminisce, I am aware of time winding down—the garage stuff needs to be addressed. But those dusty bins hold memories too precious to discard.
Okay, the blue recycling bin is full for this week. Out went school papers, poems, magazines, clippings, letters, and kids’ art. That was easy. A dirty, dusty day spent letting go. It felt exhilarating. Maybe I can tackle this momentous project. I dig deeper and look around. Wait, why are there three bins filled with picture frames? Some of them have pictures of the kids and pets still in them. Aw…another hour passes. Sentimentality all over again, as I sit in the cool and cluttered garage and reminisce.
And what craft project was I planning that would use sixteen pairs of nutcrackers? Aha! Such cute Star Wars toys, and a pretty new display case for a precious rock collection. Whose lovely brown saddle-trimmed, horse-carved, leather wallet was this? Inside…Woody and Buzz Lightyear cards remain carefully tucked away.
Sadly, the dolls cause me to pause and ponder. Would anyone love Raggedy Ann the way I did, or my soft and cuddly rag doll with a black face? Another bag full of bunnies fills me with memories. Some bunnies still have their very own handmade leashes or scarves lovingly tied around their necks.
I thought I got rid of the beanie babies a long time ago, but here’s another bag filled with messages.
Beak’s message reads, “Isn’t this just the funniest bird?  When we saw her, we said ‘how absurd.’  Looks aren’t everything, this we know  Her love for you, she’s sure to show!”
Hero says, “We all pray, When day is done  That freedom comes  To everyone”
If it wasn’t for the pandemic with more shut-in days, this project may never have been tackled. So, for me, looking for the positive, beats moaning about something out of my control. Today, as I reminisced, good memories filled my heart and my day became joyful. There’s more stuff to be unraveled. I hummed my way through dinner chores.
Jan Salinas

Here’s your 53rd SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member, Sue Curtzwiler.
Thanks, Sue!
Butterflies that Won’t Let Go
The caterpillar spins a cocoon to morph into a beautiful butterfly. When the air gets warm and it’s time to break out into freedom, the butterfly emerges from its cocoon and gingerly climbs to a sunny spot to rest and let the sun warm its wings until it’s strong enough to take flight. Without warning, there it goes—nothing to hold it back. Trusting nature, it flies into the spring air in search of nectar.
In the spring of 2020, the COVID virus forced us to cocoon in our homes as it spread like a raging wildfire across the global. By mid-March 2020, just before the official date of Spring, we were told we should not leave our homes except for essential trips—should not visit friends or family, or have contact with anyone over the age of 65. This left our seniors, many already sequestered, even more isolated and alone. Our friends, families, and hardest of all, our grandparents were sick and dying, all denied the comfort of their families as they faced a horrifying end. Hundreds of thousands have died here and millions worldwide; and the pandemic is not over.
One year later, we have three emergency use vaccines that we are trying to get into peoples’ arms as fast as we can. Some of us rushed to get it, while some of us have refused completely, and still others are waiting to see how things go with the early vaxxed before they’ll make up their minds.
Like the caterpillar waiting to transform into a butterfly before releasing itself into its “new normal” experience, many of us have stayed isolated in our cocoons. Unlike the caterpillar, who actually is transforming physically into a “new normal,” we’re still living in the same body (unless we’ve gained or lost weight, cut and/or dyed our own hair, tried changing our eating habits, or taken up indoor exercise, etc.). We’ve sacrificed so much:  we’ve sheltered in place; left, and in some cases, lost our jobs; lost our homes; waited hours on food lines; given up contact with almost everyone; we’ve masked up; we’ve socially distanced; we bump elbows instead of shaking hands; and heaven help us if we hug each other. We’ve put up with scarcity and carried on with life over Zoom. Many of us are sleeping longer and benefiting from it less; and some of us have developed depression and new forms of stress related symptoms. Meanwhile, the caterpillar, oblivious in its cocoon, is transforming into a butterfly.
We’ve given up our “normal” lives and tried to create something called a “new normal” that defies description. Because we’re all snowflakes, no two of us are exactly alike, so our new normals won’t be the same either. Some of us may be very far from normal.
On top of all of this, we’re suffering through unnecessary confusion. Unlike the caterpillar, none of us has any guarantee that when we finally leave our cocoons, we’ll have the equivalent of shiny new wings to show off to our friends and family. Instead, it’s more likely that we’ll struggle to get back to a normal that no longer exists. It may take some time until we realize we must create a new normal we’re reasonably happy with. Anyone want to bet that our wardrobes will be decidedly more comfortable than they were before we stayed home for more than a year.
What exactly is the future going to look like? No one can possibly know “exactly” what the world will be like when COVID is either gone, or more likely, at least under control. The future’s unknown. However, it can be predicted, though we know that no prediction will ever be 100% correct.
The caterpillar is a creature of instinct, it creates a cocoon, and it hangs around while its body turns to goo and then reassembles itself into a butterfly. It allows this new body to gather strength, and then off it flies in search of food. It probably doesn’t give much thought to its new normal or its old normal. Can you imagine if it did? ‘Whoa, this is cool, I’ve got wings. I wonder what they’re for. Maybe they have something to do with my new normal. Wait a minute! What happened to all my hair and where are my feet? What happened to my old normal? Somebody’s got some splain’ to do.’ Nope, the butterfly lets go and flies away.
So, should we continue to wear a mask, shelter in place, socially distance, continue to wash our hands and use hand sanitizer, and only hang out with those who’ve been vaccinated, to help stave off the new variants—be a butterfly who won’t let go…maybe for good reason? Or, do we trust science, the government, medical professionals, and the vaccines that so many of us want others to get. It’s up to each of us. Our choice. Your choice, and mine.
Keep living…and keep loving each other.
Sue Curtzwiler

Here’s your 52nd SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member, Leticia Escalera.
Thanks, Leticia!
A Pandemic Day of Amor and Memoir
Opie… Opie… Knock… Knock…
With great anticipation for the moment of Gladness…
I hear my great niece knocking at my door
She knows I am here, and says… Opie…Opie (which means open the door)
Trying to wake up to the special knock after one sleepless night…
I hear, Opie…Opie. Knock, Knock…
I open my door to see a tiny little girl with a radiant smile and great resilience…
ready to play, draw, sing and talk.
It gives me Joy… So… I Opie the door every morning.
Comes the afternoon… And once more I hear,
Yeki, Yeki… Opie the door. Outside! Outside!
Oh no! Is it time to play again?
Leticia Escalera Amador
During the pandemic, Leticia’s sister sheltered in place and home schooled three of her grandchildren. Leticia helped her sister with a 3-month-old great niece until the baby was 2 years old. “Yeki” is the name her niece called Leticia while they sheltered in place together.


Here’s your 51st SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member, Pat Doyne. Thanks, Pat!
Its M.O. is breaking and entering.
See those protein spikes sticking out all over?
Ram one of those through a cell wall,
and COVID is inside, in command.
It shuts off the cell’s burglar alarm—
so that armed antibodies don’t show up.
Now for the takeover move:  reproduce.
Soon legions of Stormtroopers seek new conquests.
Every human is an attractive habitat.
Aided by leaders who should know better,
COVID infiltrates and takes prisoners.
Camps out at beach bashes.
Hugs cousins at family picnics.
Sneezes in check-out lines.
Belts out songs in church choirs.
Answers questions in school.
Shakes hands at business meetings.
Kisses loved-ones good night.
COVID joins our celebrations,
infects and debilitates,
then keeps well-wishers out of hospital rooms.
COVID is a shape-shifter.
Everyone knew that horseshoe bats harbored SARS.
Suddenly, masses of people were getting pneumonia.
Best guess? Sly mutation, and a world of new hosts.
Infection spread from country to country.
Soon there was a tidal wave of cases, worldwide,
with a staggering death toll:  6% of billions.
But mutations continue,
making COVID ever more efficient,
omnipresent, and unpredictable.
COVID hates masks.
Hates soap, disinfectant, sanitizer.
Hates spacing people apart—“social distancing.”
Hates rubber gloves and protective gear.
Hates any barriers to in-your-face mingling.
COVID just loves people.
Loves to party.
Loves gyms, Zumba classes, playgrounds.
Loves hanging out with pals.
Loves cruises and tourist meccas.
Loves getting together for a drink.
Loves crowded airplanes.
Loves rallies, rodeos, ballparks, and concerts.
Wherever people gather, COVID is an uninvited guest,
often brought by a guy with no symptoms.
So where are we now?
Is COVID just the flu?
A hoax?
An infection that will run through a population,
killing the weak and leaving the strong immune?
Or will COVID continue breaking and entering
while the economy crashes,
the death toll rises,
and survivors show long-term damage?
When leaders swap science for votes,
the outcome is anybody’s guess.           
So far there is only one winner:  SARS-CoV-2.
Patricia Doyne
© 9/2020

Here’s your 50th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member, Amber DeAnn. Thanks, Amber!
COVID  Isolation 
I used to be part of the world.
Now I sit and look out the window
and reflect back on the good times,
the fun, laughter, sense of community,
peace in normal human togetherness.
I feel lost, abandoned, empty inside
— a shell of who I used to be.
Anger isn’t even the word — my feelings go
much deeper — to shock, dismay, bewilderment,
to resentment, betrayal, and abandonment
I’ve lost my freedom,
my voice,
my dreams, my goals,
I’ve lost my spirit, my will, my rational mind.
Mental clarity,
positive, soul generated life direction—
where did it go?
What happened to my brain, my mind, my ability to
think, problem solve, identify right and wrong,
tell truth from a lie, to rely on my own God given intuition
to guide my life and attract my goals. 
Now I’m isolating- It’s not my fear I seek to appease, but
the fear of the authorities who run our lives
Who gave them control over my life?
Who gave them the right to restrict us like this?
to dominate us?  to censor us, to imprison us like this?
I resent this, I scream in agony, I think, rationalize- hoping to find a clue,
a tip, a scapegoat,
I seek answers. I want the names of the offenders, the instigators of this
nefarious plot against us common humans
I seek for a Savior,
There is none.
I look in the mirror trying to find me again.
Then I hear the voice — “it’s up to you.”
It’s up to you to find you again
It’s also up to me to see the trickery here,
to see the deception, the deceit, the fraud
and correct it.
Amber DeAnn
COVID 2022 — thoughts & feelings

Here’s your 49th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member, Terry Connelly. Thanks, Terry!

Remove My Cloak
I am the sole of your shoe,
The dirt that you spit upon,
The excrement of fish
That sinks into the silt
Becoming invisible.
I am the one who sits in the
Last seat, in the last row,
Who never joins a group discussion
or speaks up before the crowd,
Instead, trying to be invisible.
I am the one that you don’t see,
Even when you brush against
My shoulder in a crowd,
The one that you never grace with
A smile, for to you, I am invisible.
I yearn to have a truly good friend,
Someone who likes to share secrets,
Who will hold my hand, carry my books,
Ask for my phone number so that
I will no longer be invisible.
I am tired of sitting alone, day after day,
Munching on my cardboard lunch
While others around me speak
Of adventures that I will never know,
For to them, I am invisible.
Today I ask for your attention,
Which you so willingly give to your
Chosen few, the “in crowd”, those that
Raise your status, your time card, but
Never to me, for I am invisible.
I beg you to stop and ask
My name, to hold the door for me,
to invite me to sit at your lunch table,
to be my partner, my comrade
so to remove my cloak of invisibility
I want to be seen for who I am,
A child of God
A blessed soul
A friend in waiting.
Terry Connelly

Here’s your 48th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member, Joyce Cortez. Thanks, Joyce!

I Used to Wish I Were
I used to wish I were more outgoing, more carefree, less introverted, less shy, less calculated. My friends have often been the opposite of me. They said I balanced their natural instincts. Most of the time they included me in their free-loving folly. They stopped at things they knew I would not do, could not do. On rare occasion, I asked to be included, shocking them—like that time with the jug of wine Katie found in the hills near her house. A story for another day.
I envied their ease of making friends, easy laughter, living life on their terms. I have lived by rules and convention, measured pros and cons, the facts, the risks. My nature, my terms.
As I grew older, experienced more life…hardships…pleasures…challenges, I developed in myself a few of the qualities I admired in them. I challenged myself to reach for new experiences, latch onto opportunities, and surprised myself in stretching my comfort zone.
Then along came COVID. At first, I missed the meetings and gatherings of acquaintances. Zoom helped. As the new reality became the norm, I wandered back to find my inner self—the person who liked my solitude, who enjoyed reading, and watching Hallmark movies endlessly, squandering time, curled up under a blanket on the couch. My friends and family suffered, staying home, social distancing, feeling denied their outings and natural inclinations. They don’t understand how I can be so calm and satisfied right now. Perhaps they wish to be a little more like me?
Joyce Cortez

Here’s your 47th SIP NOTE submitted by new FAW member, George Kwong. Thanks, George!
A month in the school year,
A degree of discontent
Has begun to settle
Into a holding flight pattern.
Differences of degrees but not in kind,
Struggling to find footing
On the slippery slope 
Of unearned expectations.
There’s a sense of malaise
Permeating and propagating
Unseen but its presence is felt
Masked or not – it doesn’t matter.
Maybe my expectations were unrealistic
Yet reassurances seem inadequate
Please, let it be temporary
A moment of discrepancy.
Octobers are such rough months
An annual reminder of aging
An annual reflection of self-being
An annual sense of inadequacy.
Ongoing conflicts between sides
Being logical and thoughtful
Or eruptions of controlled emotions
I am not at balance presently.
My pattern of decadal midlife crises
Showed its head mid-decade at 55
Its tendrils are reaching out already
A couple of years early.
This time, I won’t fight it,
Will let it follow its course
Still a low grade, constant static
I just wish I knew where it’s headed.
George Kwong

Here’s your 46th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member and Board Secretary, Rekha Ramani. Thanks, Rekha!
My COVID Experience in India
Well, it wasn’t I who got COVID! It was my 81-year-old bed-bound mother, in Bangalore. So it was actually in a rush that I had to leave for India. I had to stop my subbing assignment mid-way through, AND miss my son’s college graduation in Waco, TX, which was a week later.
I didn’t go home to my mother’s apartment as soon as I landed. I checked into a hotel, directly from the airport. Hmm… an arrival of a different kind. By this time, my mother was already in a hospital, and her 24-hour caregiver who so kindly had taken care of her, tested COVID positive, and she was isolating in my mom’s apartment. Hmm… a different take on things this time! 
My kind, benevolent uncle was doing the hectic legwork of taking care of my mother. At this time, early May, the Delta variant was ravaging India, and the environment that my uncle was exposed to was no less, around the premises of the hospital. I couldn’t step out of the hotel, lest I be exposed to the virus and also fall sick. My uncle being 74 with comorbidities, was really lucky, he escaped the virus. Just imagine if he had fallen sick, I would have been in dire straits!
My experience in the hotel was tolerable. The room was clean and well maintained. But the restaurant service was awful. But the safety protocol was impeccable, which mattered to me the most. I was basically confined to the hotel room for three weeks. I used to step out once a day to have my room cleaned. How do I spend my time for three weeks without stirring out of a hotel room!
Believe it or not, I accomplished a lot! My uncle found me incredibly helpful and supportive. I was making several calls a day. By the way, it was unbelievably difficult to get a bed for my mother in a hospital with the availability of an oxygen cylinder. I got in contact with a few influential relatives, but let me tell you- influence or not, COVID wipes out your resources.
However, luck plays its part in the most unexpected of times. You could also call it God’s grace. I was praying for 2 people- my uncle and my mother. 1) My uncle shouldn’t fall sick and 2) my mother being in a bed bound state would somehow manage to look after herself in a COVID ward of 60 patients manned by 2 nurses and 1 doctor! I was praying that my mother wouldn’t develop bedsores, as she has to be turned sideways periodically. By the time she got out of the hospital after eight days, she hadn’t bathed and hadn’t had a bowel movement. Incredibly, she survived the odds! She is a kind, compassionate, and non-complaining woman with an indomitable spirit and a gentle smile that could light up a hopeless world.
Meanwhile in the hotel, I had built up a daily routine for myself. Apart from preoccupying myself on what to order for my meals, also watching the cost, I got my daily bout of exercise. I would pace back and forth in my room, while listening to calming hymns. I would do this twice a day. Luckily, for me, I hadn’t forgotten to pack my iPad, and got to watch some somber, yet heartwarming movies on Netflix. I can also tell you I went through a roller coaster of emotions in that hotel. The first week was especially terrible as you can imagine. And having to extend my stay for another 2 weeks (I was supposed to get out in a week), was even more frustrating.
But, even more frustrating was the restaurant service. Without getting into the details, I ended up writing a four-page complaint letter to the hotel manager. I was thrilled to put my writing skills to work :), and got very creative with my outrage! Aah! I was in no mood to write poetry, but this was the icing on the cake! :). I said goodbye to boredom in a flash :). My letter, four pages of excruciating detail, actually did catch the attention of the manager. Following that, I had great service! Large portions and just the right spice to the Indian curries.
My mother survived the COVID ordeal because she had received her double dose of vaccine, despite her age and chronic, neurological handicap. Another figment of God’s grace! Ironically, a good Samaritan in my mother’s apartment building (a relative of our tenant in Bangalore) had succumbed to COVID. He was only 50. God proposes; God disposes. 
I had somehow emotionally survived my 7-week stay in India. My friends in the US would reach out to me periodically. I got in touch with my friends and relatives in India. FAW also sent me kind, inquiring emails. Hugs 🙂   
Whether COVID results in death or not, we all get through it. But, we would realize this only at the end of our ordeal. Our strengths, our pitfalls, the invisible power that leads us through this journey. There’s a rebirth of hope, a renewed light, novel lessons that rain on us. I am sure the lives that COVID has taken will find themselves reborn, their spirits hovering around us, their souls very much alive. They cannot be taken from us. My mother lived for a purpose. She’s had a difficult life, and it’s not been an easy journey for me being her caregiver, even from afar. She’s alive for a reason. Maybe I need her, and despite it all, yes I do.
Rekha Ramani 

Here’s your 45th SIP NOTE submitted by new FAW member, George Kwong. Thanks, George!


I was asked today how my year was.
Surprisingly I couldn’t answer right off
You would think having just a few days left of school,
I would have a quick, ready response.
Unprecedented could be one word
Never imagined that I would be distance teaching
And virtual learning as well
An unplanned journey.
Revitalized could be another word
No paper copies, what!
Had to become a technology-based teacher
Not something I am good at – yet.
Overwhelmed is a rather strong word
Inundated might be softer
I found my buoyancy
Partially submerged but floating still.
Doubts often clouded my mind
Is what I am doing enough?
Will they be able to learn this way?
Am I a good enough teacher?
Disappointed is a feeling that I have
Not necessarily in my students
Not necessarily in myself
Just the overall ness of everything
Emotions oscillated,
happy one moment, sad the next
Mostly kept under control
But with extreme duress.
Exposed would be another descriptor
I cannot hide my color
They don’t know that I am a teacher
All they see is Asian.
Shrouded are my students
Hidden behind a dark Zoom cloud
Unseen voices heard
But personal connections were obstructed.
Hopeful that this year meant something
Both academically and personally
That it’s just a speed-bump
On the fast track to success.
Uneven – even now
As I try to write this
A bit unbalanced
Scale keeps tipping.
Drained and somewhat depleted
Don’t want to run on idle
Or staying parked
I need a clutch play.
Nostalgic, poignant, sentimental\
Impressed, plaintive, compassionate
Understanding, forgiving, high expectations
My answer – bittersweet.
George Kwong

Here’s your 44th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW  member, Tish Davidson. Thanks, Tish!

Juneteenth has just passed, and with it becoming a federal holiday, I realized how deficient my education still is about the African American experience. For people my age, all mentions of African Americans in history books stopped after the Civil War. History galloped on to World War I, the Great Depression, and then World War II without a mention of people of color. Maybe college history was more comprehensive, although I will never know. A Medievalist taught the only history class I took in college. We never got beyond the fifteenth century.
Happily, not long ago, my book group read The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabelle Wilkerson, a book that won the National Book Critics Award in nonfiction. This book changed the way I now think about American History.
The book is the story of the Great Migration of African Americans away from the South. It changed my perspective in two ways. First, I gained tremendous admiration for Wilkerson and the research she did. She managed to find three people from three different decades and economic classes and tell their individual stories of leaving the South for the cities New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles. This was an amazing bit of scholarship, complete with documentation that read like storytelling, not history. I think we would all relate to history more strongly if it told the stories of people, not events.
The second way it changed me was that it brought home, in human terms, just how pervasive and casual racism was in the South. Pervasive, I may have realized, but the casual viciousness of the racism these three people and their families experienced daily was shocking and made me reconsider what I thought I knew about American history.
It is my hope that Juneteenth will do something similar—tell the story of African Americans, their joys and sorrows, and all that their lives have been, to help the rest of us realize how little we know, and ultimately, make us want to know more.
Tish Davidson

Here’s your 43rd SIP NOTE submitted by former FAW member and friend, Diane Morninglight. Thanks, Diane!
every living creature breathes the breath of God
every living creature breathes the breath of God:
the wren, the mouse, the reed, blue flowers and their seed,
still white cranes reflected in the marshy bay;
black dancing lambs’ ballet; butterflies that breed           
in stately grace, their breath like priests who kneel and pray.
holographic ocean waves contain the whole;
contemplative lives complete creation’s flow;
mother holds her baby, breathes his scent and soul;
planets sing harmonic joy, sweet and slow.
this gift, this breath, cradled in bright living grace,
shimmering creation, exquisite life delight.
each living being held with love, sustained in place,
letting self be breathed, offers deep insight:
every living creature breathes the breath of God.
Diane Morninglight

Here’s your 42nd SIP NOTE submitted by FAW Treasurer and member, Cherilyn Chin. Thanks, Cherilyn!
My Humpback Whale Snorkeling Experience
I slid into the Atlantic Ocean off the small boat like a seal sliding off a rock and into the water. I heard my breathing through my snorkel and blinked while focusing on the deep blue beyond.
Suddenly, there they were, a 40-foot-long mother humpback whale with her 15-foot-long calf circling her. It was an astonishing sight. I have seen humpback whales and their antics above the water off Hawaii and California, but here was the gentle giant in her own environment.
They swam around us and our boat, eyeing us. No doubt they were curious about the ungainly creatures who literally came out of the blue. The mother and calf swam next to us, under us and so close that I knew with flick of her tail, it would be the end of me.
It was like a dream, one that would be long lost if it weren’t for the pictures my small point and shoot underwater camera took. There were full body shots of the mother and calf, and body parts like flukes or the long pectoral fins filling the entire frame.
The largest animal I had snorkeled with before was the ocean’s largest fish, a whale shark, and it was only as long as the calf! I remember counting the seconds as the whale shark swam slowly by, head-body-tail, gulping down water through its gills to filter out plankton to eat.
The calf needed to come up for air every few minutes, with mother in tow even though she could average 20 minutes per breath. The calf swam close to its mother the whole time they were with us, a good 30 minutes. They circled our boat many times. Our 25-foot-long boat paled in comparison to the mother. Female humpbacks can grow up to 50 feet long and weigh 35 tons!
Out of the water, the pair put on quite a show, tail lobbing (slapping their flukes on the surface of the water), pectoral fin slapping and breaching their whole bodies out of the water!
Intentions are powerful. The previous night while introducing ourselves (our group had all previously snorkeled with wild dolphins in the Bahamas with Wildquest over the years) and why we were there, I shared that I wanted to see a mother and calf pair underwater, as well as write a blog post, a children’s book, and an article about the experience. I’m not saying I’m solely responsible for the long and memorable encounter—the humpback whales made that happen—but considering we only got into the water once more during the week (we heard a male humpback singing underwater!), it made this encounter even more special.
Aquatic Adventures specializes in “Passive-in-Water Whale Encounters” or PIWWE (pee-wee) on the Silver Bank Marine Sanctuary, which is halfway between the Dominican Republic (where we flew to) and the Turks and Caicos islands in the Atlantic Ocean.
From Aquatic Adventure’s website, “Research indicates that the Silver Bank contains the largest seasonal population of humpbacks in the North Atlantic Ocean, if not the world. The sanctuary is only 40 square miles, but 5000-7000 humpback whales pass through each winter.” 
The Silver Bank is a calving and mating ground for humpback whales. The calves grow quickly on their mother’s milk of 70% fat (Whole cow’s milk is only 4% fat in comparison!). They are born 10-15 feet long and 1-2 tons in weight. The mother will not feed again until she reaches somewhere north like Stellwagen Bank off Massachusetts, USA.
I want to thank everyone on the boat, guests, and crew alike, for an amazing experience in and out of the water. For more on snorkeling with humpback whales in the Silver Bank, visit https://www.aquaticadventures.com Aquatic Adventure’s website.
Feel free to check out my website https://protecttheoceans.org/wordpress and leave comments or email me with any questions!
Cherilyn Chin
Here’s your 41st SIP NOTE submitted by member, Terry Connelly. Thanks, Terry!

A Dose of My Own Medicine
I don’t consider myself the mask police, but I am aware of who isn’t wearing one when I’m out hiking. When such an individual approaches, I make sure mine is on properly, but I don’t correct their behavior. Likewise, I say nothing when I’m at a store or the gym and catch someone wearing theirs incorrectly. It seems that the most common error is not covering the nose.
Perhaps they don’t realize that we send droplets into the air with every exhalation. But, rules are rules, right?
I have reported a few individuals at the gym and have requested that staff walk the gym floor on a regular basis to ensure compliance. My health and that of others is at stake.
Now that we‘re fully vaccinated, we’ve been on our first weekend trip out of Alameda County to visit relatives. They live in an area that resists compliance with any laws, so I was not surprised to encounter folks not wearing masks of any kind. It made me both angry and sad. It’s one thing to not care about your own health:  it’s entirely another to not care about what you might inflict on others.
Coming home Tuesday we stopped for lunch at a fast food restaurant that had tables outdoors. My fingers got quite messy. When I was finished, I tossed our trash and went inside to clean up. A woman, who appeared to be in line, waved her hand in a circle when she saw me. I assumed she meant she wasn’t in that line, but the one for food.
As I washed my hands, I glanced at myself in the mirror and discovered, to my embarrassment and horror, I had not put my mask on before entering!
I made a promise to myself that I will no longer look askance at those who are not compliant. After all, they might not be aware that their mask had slipped, or like me, had simply made a mistake!
Terry Connelly

Here’s your 40th SIP NOTE submitted by member, Carol Lee Hall. Thanks, Carol!
Celebrating Marion Lee
March 8 th was National Women’s Day. While other people celebrated the accomplishments of famous women like Harriet Tubman, Marie Curie, Susan B. Anthony, or Anna May Wong (look her up if you don’t know her), I’d like to celebrate my mom, Marion Lee.
Mom passed away on March 8 th of this year. Even though she recovered sufficiently from COVID and COVID-related pneumonia to be released from the hospital, her body just gave out at 97 years. We will be planting a lemon tree in her memory because she loved lemons.
Marion was part of The Greatest Generation. She worked at the Oakland Army Base doing clerical work during World War II. She married and had three kids of her own plus raised two of my cousins. When I was in junior high, she started working for the Parent Child Development Center in Oakland doing office work. She retired in the late 1980s and enjoyed traveling to Europe, Asia, and North America. She even took care of her own finances up to her early 90s.
Mom had a great sense of humor. Whenever someone asked her how old she was, she’d say, “I’m sweet sixteen and haven’t been kissed—lately!” In her sixties, she recorded her own phone answering machine message in a sexy voice and said, “At the sound of the beep, tell me EVERYTHING. Bye, for now.”
My mom was very pragmatic. One of her favorite sayings was, “Do what you can today, for you never know what tomorrow brings.” I think that helps me not procrastinate. When my sister told her she would not be returning to her assisted living facility after her last hospital stay, but instead moving to a nursing home, she said, “Well if that’s where I have to live, that’s where I have to live.”
She always welcomed our friends to the house. Many of them were second generation Chinese whose parents spoke broken English. They were surprised my mom spoke English as well as them! For many years, she would host a Christmas gathering for our extended family because she wanted to keep everyone together.
Although she wasn’t famous, Marion Lee will be remembered for her generous hospitality, practical advice, great sense of humor, and financial acuity. We will miss you, Mom.                                                                                     
Carol Lee Hall

After the Vaccine – a SIP Note
by Scott Davidson
I went to the mall this week, and I didn’t die.
I’m sure I wouldn’t have died if I had gone to the mall a month ago, but I went two weeks after my second COVID vaccination shot. And I felt free.
I wore my mask of course, I’m not a jerk. But, for the first time, I didn’t have to worry about getting infected after over a year of working hard to avoid infection. I feel like a survivor. I’ve come out the other end of this ordeal never having gotten sick, and in fact being healthier than I’ve been for ages. No contacts, no colds. My doctor said there’s hardly any flu around also. I felt hale and hearty.
I met a friend walking her dog. She had been vaccinated also, so we could talk to each other, not that close, but not six feet apart, without masks. Almost like normal people, not explorers of some strange alien world with a dangerous atmosphere. I felt human.
I no longer ask, like they did in WW II gas rationing times, “is this trip necessary?” I can drop into the store. We can go to the thrift store for fun. Maybe even a restaurant some day without fear of spreading the virus or getting the virus. The world has opened for me. I feel like part of it.
Best of all, we can start planning visits to our kids and grand-kids. Zoom and Skype are stopgaps, but nothing like sitting on the floor playing with the four-year-old and snuggling with the one-year-olds. I feel like I have a real, not TV, family again.
I knew getting vaccinated would make me safe, I never expected that it would make me whole. Medicines sometimes cure more things than you imagine they could. I feel good.

Here’s your 38th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW Newsletter Editor and member, Nancy Guarnera. Thanks, Nancy!
Time to Blossom
One thing about Spring, that may be more obvious in places with distinctly different seasons, is the shift from dormancy to bloom. While it looks like not much is going on in the bare and dead-looking trees, bushes and empty flowerbeds, nothing could be further from the truth. Within the earth, the stems, the twigs, the trunks and branches of trees…sap is rising — the hum and bustle of life is on the move. Even with snow still on the ground in other parts of the country, the crocuses and hyacinths will be poking their heads up to catch the first weak rays of sun, and the trees will be in bud. Just as a significant unseen change is happening in nature during this time of year, one that we can sense, but not yet see, I believe that change is beginning to happen in us humans, as well.
In some form or another, we’ve been Sheltering In Place for a year now, and pandemic fatigue has overcome many of us. But…I sense the sap is rising. I can’t quite explain it. Perhaps it’s the vaccines, and the “righting of the distribution ship” that needed to take place before we could start getting them; or the reality that checks are in the mail; or the greening of the hills; perhaps the expression of “fun” had by our members who attended February and March’s Social Write (thanks, Tish and Scott). Whatever it is, I feel like we humans may be turning the COVID corner (or at least rounding a curve), ready to begin living life again. Ready to bloom in our new soil and to move on to happier, healthier lives with new insights encouraged by this experience we have all shared together.
I went to get my second “shot” on the 7 th of March and it was wonderful to see trees blooming; to feel the sun and air on my skin again. I don’t get out much…even to the backyard. No excuse really, just a painful activity for me. Something I “should” do more, but tend not to.
I used to love change, now I’m not as enamored with it as I once was. I wonder if it’s because I’m getting older… and because doing much more than sitting, is a physical challenge from which I must “recover.” But, even still, the light is changing, the sun is getting closer and warmer, and I have moments of desire to move—walk to the backdoor, and wander out onto the patio to see how the avocado and apple trees are doing. And the pomegranate bush. Watch the clouds float by. I even want to sing and dance!
I can feel things changing all around me, whether I can see them or not. Most of all I can feel my own sap rising; pushing me to bloom, to fruit. I think I’ll send something to the CWC Lit Review, now that they’ve extended the deadline to April 15 th, it’s been a while since I’ve had something published (except in the newsletter). Perhaps some of you will take a chance and submit something as well.
Let’s blossom together as we leave the dormancy of the pandemic behind and start living life again.  The whole world is waiting for our new creative expression. Let’s not disappoint.
Nancy Guarnera
March 2021

Here’s your 37th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW Volunteer Coordinator, Hospitality Chairperson, and member, Sue Curtzwiler. Thanks, Sue!
A Drive Down Memory Lane
BIG HINT, don’t wait nearly 30 years to visit memory lane! It might be so different you can’t see it, or maybe it won’t be there at all. That was my experience this last Sunday as I needed to get out of Fremont and see something different – ya know, the Covid-19 blues. I never got out of the car–I couldn’t because the streets are so narrow with those dividing lane poles, I didn’t see a place to park. Clearly SJSU is a walking campus.
I thought I knew every nook and cranny of the campus and surrounding areas after nearly four years of rushing to awkwardly collapse in those awful chairs on time, well okay, a few minutes late. Sunday’s effort to visit memory lane turned out to be a memory culture shock.
What happened? Nothing, I mean nothing except the car garages were recognizable. New dorms towered into the sky everywhere. Even the inside quad of campus, the old ivory covered tower, or the walkways that wound in and out around the buildings and lush gardens were not visible. The entrance to the campus blended with everything else. The other day, a friend told me there is only one remaining original brick building. This makes me sad. Spartan City, living quarters for married couples, which was on the sidelines of the football field, was demolished while I was student. As an infant, I lived next to the 49-yard line (so I was told) as Mom and Dad were attending classes in 1949. Now, when I go back again to walk through the inner quad, I probably won’t find anything familiar there either.
It’s really a shame when you can’t go back and revisit a time in your life that was important. Yes, I will go back soon to find a parking place, take a lunch bag and walk inside the campus. Don’t wait for whatever you want, do it now, or as is reasonable, even during this Covid-19 era.  Take care my friends.
Sue Curtzwiler


Here’s your 36th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW Membership Chairperson, NorCal Representative, and member, Anita Tosh. Thanks, Anita!
Time to Zoom
A forced stay-cation is not so bad. We are getting plenty of sleep. We can relax in bed as long as we like and not have to rush off to work. Why, we can even stay in our jammies all day if we like.
We are catching up on many household projects; the freezer is cleaned out, the laundry is done, the dog is exercised, closet is cleaned out, the dog had her walk, the walls are washed, the gutters cleaned, the dog is walked, the floors swept and mopped, the dog is walked, well you get the idea.
I am even trying out some recipes. I’ve made bread, biscuits, cornbread, and even tortillas. Boy, our dog was hungry tonight.
Then I got a text. There was going to be a zoom meeting for all the families and teachers of the preschool where I used to work. What? If I join the call I’ll have to comb my hair and put normal clothes on! I don’t think I am up to this. And besides, I need to walk the dog. Here doggie, doggie. Wake up doggie.
Anita Tosh


Here’s your 35th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW Secretary and member, Rekha Ramani.
Thanks, Rekha! And congratulations on your new book of poetry, published last month.  ;o)
Poetry: I Heart from the Bottom of My Soul
I learned the craft not by going to Literary school, no artsy form of an Arts Degree. I wasn’t skilled in vocabulary, punctuation or the fluent tongue. I often missed hyphens and would forget to cross my t’s and dot my I’s. I missed clauses in my brain and scrambled fervently for the right words. Friends from childhood fumbled with their memories and strained to remember if I was ever good at the spoken word in the English language. Hmmm they would twitter…”I really don’t remember you being…so and so”
I don’t want to go into a rhetoric on how I found my foot on the ladder of poetry. But if anyone wants to meddle with their soul, and hunt the intricacies of the mind, well, poetry offers you ample fodder to feed an appetite to vent. The magic is, the more lyrical you are, the lighter you feel. I aged like wine in the world of metaphors. I discovered literary device as I coursed along.
I touched the true meaning of God in poetry. The divine intervention capturing me in disbelief, no essay could encompass. I could turn poetry into song. Anger into honey. Irises into vision, and allow the wind soothe my mind.
Unfortunately, poetry is at the bottom of the literary field. It’s rare, pious and poor. Often missed by the ignorant eye. Definitely not up for grabs. I consider it antique. Dust disguising its pure, rich interior. It most often speaks of sadness and frailty, giving us a sense of its sobering beauty.
To end this note with an accent of simplicity, which poetry is so much about, I gained speech, song, and meaningful gifts that are so much to my soul, more than physical comforts and the clamor of daily living.
Hope you too dive into poetry one day, and test its waters.
Rekha Ramani  January 2021

Here’s your 34th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW Web Master and member, Scott Davidson.
Thanks, Scott!
Writing and the Path to COVID Vaccines
Much as I enjoy reading SIP Notes, I’m tired of sheltering in place.  Thanks to the amazing and safe new vaccines now being administered, we might be out of the woods by this summer. At last! I know I’ll be taking mine as soon as I’m called, though I don’t mind essential workers being ahead of me in line. They deserve it.
These vaccines were developed all over the world. Those developing them had a background of knowledge about viruses, genetics, and how the cell works provided by over 100 years’ worth of science. Not only did the work cross borders and cross years, but it crossed disciplines. A vital part in developing the vaccine was to understand the virus by decoding its DNA, which was done using powerful computers and algorithms developed by biologists and computer scientists.
How was this information disseminated across time and distance? By the kind of writing I used to do—scientific papers. Papers are the repository of scientific knowledge and are how scientists disclose their results and findings. I’ve published a few dozen, hardly any, reviewed hundreds and selected a bunch as program chair for several conferences and as a journal editor.
Scientific papers, like other writing, have structure, which depends on the field. In my field, computer design, papers begin with an introduction laying out the problem being solved, then previous work, then the solution, then results and finally a conclusion and the inevitable future work.
Once a paper gets finished, it goes through quality control called peer review. Other scientists read it. When I review papers, I look for prior work that was missed, that the proposed solution could work, and that the results are complete without anything important being omitted. Bad papers get rejected and most papers must be revised to meet the comments of reviewers. There are always comments. It is not a perfect process, which is why papers must provide enough information to let others reproduce the work if the work is important enough.
Papers allow scientists to build on the work of others; that’s why science keeps advancing and getting closer to the truth. Don’t believe it? The computer you are reading this on was built on a mountain of scientific papers about semiconductor physics, computer architecture, operating systems, software engineering, networking, and lots more, stretching back to the 1940s. Science works.
Trust me, scientific papers—most of them anyway, are not as much fun to read—or to write—as a mystery or science fiction story. But our very lives depend on them.
Scott Davidson

Here’s your 33rd SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member, Tony Pino.
Thank you, Tony!
Aspen Tree
My neighbor has an aspen tree
its leaves have become gold
at this autumnal moment,
a transformation I’d never noticed
until this portentous year.
Yesterday, a large black crow
stood at its top, where it
surveyed the neighborhood;
its black wings folded and opaque,
so deep, so absorbent
they seemed like a tunneled
opening to a distant universe,
one where light entered
but didn’t return, and around it
all the brightness
of earth’s thinking
compressing into one solid, stellar ball
distant and now unattainable,
its value known only by a crow
on an aspen tree, steeped in gold.
Tony Pino

Here’s your 32nd SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member, Dr. Evelyn LaTorre.
Thank you, Evelyn!
“How Living in Another Country Prepared Me for The Pandemic”
by Evelyn LaTorre
The Article:  Reprinted from Conscious Connection Magazine
The Author:  Evelyn Kohl LaTorre grew up in rural Montana. She has a Doctorate in Education from the University of San Francisco. She has worked in bilingual public education. She and her husband volunteer with the Peru-American Medical Society translating for U.S. physicians who go to Abancay, Peru to offer free services at the hospital where she worked in 1965.
This time of the pandemic and protests has the power to transform our society — and each of us as well.
We have been gifted an opportunity to gain a clearer sense of our values, and we can use this unusual occasion to discover what we believe and show who we really are. Those who have lived in other cultures may already have a sense of how transformational an in-depth exposure to others’ lives can be. The revelations of a philosophy other than our own, can shake us to our core and lay bare our previous, narrow thinking about other groups and ourselves — if we are open to it.
Living abroad over an extended period increases our self-discerning reflections. We experience new ways of living and being, which can lead us to examine ingrained beliefs. If we give thought to the unfamiliar behavioral patterns that surround us, we see ourselves in a new light.
The late Michael Crichton wrote in his book, Travels: “Often I feel I go to some distant region of the world to be reminded of who I really am … Stripped of your ordinary surroundings, your friends, your daily routines … you are forced into direct experience [which] inevitably makes you aware of who it is that is having the experience.”
Feelings of unease at being out of our regular routine and away from the familiar, is what many of us experience as we shelter in place, wear masks, and curtail travel. I describe in my book, Between Inca Walls, A Peace Corps Memoir, how living in rural Mexico, then in the Andes of Peru, was transformational and changed the trajectory of my life. Living away from home without modern conveniences prepared me, in some part, for resilience to today’s deprivations. The following are a few of the maxims, with examples, that I learned living in other cultures.
Slow down, listen, ask, and learn
During Peace Corps training in Puerto Rico, I was too eager to be helpful and “clean up” what I saw as the cluttered yard of the family I lived with. So, I removed refuse from holes scattered around the premises. Later, I found out that placing leftover food in pits was the family’s composting system. I shouldn’t have disrupted and instead observed or inquired first.
When unable to foresee future unknowns — plan for the present
When the Peace Corps had no assignment or living arrangement for me, I joined with another unassigned volunteer, Marie, and together we found our own placement and housing in Abancay, Peru, where we taught P.E., formed 4-H clubs, and had many life-changing adventures.
Be flexible
While waiting for housing to be built for us in an unpopulated Andean community that we hoped to develop, Marie and I learned first aid in Abancay’s hospital. Houses were never built, so our move never happened, but we were able to teach teens in a different impoverished community some basic medical skills.
Wealth, poverty, and happiness don’t have clear lines
Letters I received from the U.S. complained about such deprivations as having to make do with a used car. I walked several miles daily to the schools in poor areas where I taught P.E. I rarely had the equipment needed for the sports I taught. We improvised. I taught the students lead-up games that would develop the skills they needed for futbol (soccer) and they kicked around a knot of rags when we had no ball. Students’ skills improved and we had more fun than my friend said he had in his used car.
Have compassion for yourself and others
Upsets during trying times can create tension, but are often short-lived, so loosen up. When members of the girls’ club forgot to bring the ingredients they’d promised for making banana bread, initially, I was upset. But we asked nearby neighbors to supply what we needed. The generous neighbors dined on our bread with us, and the experience turned out better than if all had gone as I’d planned.
Celebrate the strengths you develop in getting through trying times
More than once, rides to important events in Peru broke down, were extremely late, or failed to come through. Marie and I became adept at finding other ways to reach our destinations. Challenges gave us great stories to tell. So, in these trying times…
Think, then write about your own unique life and experiences
You’ll find time if you limit your news intake to only the stations that broadcast trusted facts and read books that open your eyes and heart to others’ experiences and ways of being. Breathe deeply, walk in nature, then sit down with journal in hand, and take stock of where you’ve been and what you are grateful for.
Think of this time away from the cacophony of traffic, meetings, and demands, as a present. Use it to contemplate what you truly value. For many that is deepening relationships, completing a project, or helping others.
It is in hard times that we learn who we really are. Instead of misplaced anger that turns to despair and mockery of those who follow healthy guidelines, see where you can help others who are struggling with childcare, earning a living, or need encouragement. Make masks, read to children via Zoom, or write your own memoir. Journaling and focusing on the parts of life that are going well are other worthwhile activities.
Eleanor Roosevelt, who traveled the country and had many challenges in her life said: “You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face.”

Here’s your 31st SIP NOTE submitted by FAW President, Terry Tosh.
Thank you, Terry!
Saying Goodbye to 2020
We made it to December, fellow FAW-ites! What an accomplishment that was, no?
Let’s take a collective breath, relax, and make a pact not to let anything that comes our way this month, stress us out, OK?
I hope you were able to join us for the Zoom “party” we had, compliments of Tish and Scott. It was a nice break from the norm. Tish may be instituting more of these Zoom Write-ins in the new year; watch for more information about this in the future.
For those who weren’t able to get in on our November general meeting, we discussed and decided to have our Holiday Party on Zoom this year. We met on Saturday, 12/12 at 2pm (Happy Birthday, Jan!). This was a time for everyone to practice their flash writing skills with a few writing prompts; Tish and Scott Davidson were our hosts and facilitators. It was a fun experience, and an opportunity to chat and re-connect after such a bizarre Year of SIPing. We gave away Amazon Gift certificates to two lucky winners, Terry Connelly and Rekha Ramani. Congratulations, Terry and Rekha!
(Thank you, Nancy Guarnera for sharing your excellent terms—SIP and SIP Notes. CWC has asked if the organization can register it for CWC use, and Nancy has agreed. Once again, congratulations, Nancy!)
We are truly Blessed to have such a talented and eclectic group of individuals in our branch. In the Spirit of the Season, I count it a privilege to have been able to lead, as well as learn from your vast collective storehouse of knowledge and wit. You are all truly amazing people, and I look forward to what you will share of your talents in the coming year.
Enjoy your opportunities as you discover them in our new norm.
Love to All of you from Anita and me.
Terry Tosh
FAW President

Here’s your 30th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW Volunteer Coordinator, Sue Curtzwiler.

Thank you, Sue!
Neighborhood Surprise Amidst 2020 COVID-19
Early this year when the COVID-19 shutdown started to change our lives, I thought about what I could do to help people keep smiling. It took me quite a while to figure out what to do that was safe, followed sanitary guidelines, and was inexpensive.
As EASTER approached, I realized I could make Easter treats in a plastic bag (rather than a basket). I boiled some eggs—decorated with stick on Easter seals, bought individually wrapped candies, and with older stationary from my roll-down desk, hand-wrote a simple little note about Happy Easter or their idea of spring as budding plants were peeking from the ground, the basic sign of new beginnings and staying positive.
The spring and summer continued with relentless warnings about the global attack on humanity by COVID-19, the tremendous surge of cases and the unwavering effort of the medical community pleading for us to wear masks, keep our distance, stay within our bubble—those within your household, and refrain from traveling. If only more people would follow something as simple as wearing a mask.
Finally, HALLOWEEN and autumn arrived. I immediately thought of small pumpkins especially for the kids. I found a good deal at Trader Joe’s. I signed my little pumpkins with “Happy Halloween, Aunt Sue” and left one on each doorstep.
Within about a week, the Neighborhood Surprise started. First, I got a few phone calls from those who knew me and said with a tease in their voice, “Is this Aunt Sue?” Then another neighbor brought me a small loaf of homemade pumpkin bread his wife had made, and within the last week or so, I found a bag of groceries at my front door filled with some instant potato mix, fresh apples, two types of canned green beans, cans of gravy and cranberry sauce, and a single desert cookie bake in pan. And, oh yes, even a fresh pineapple. Many of you probably know that the pineapple is a symbol of wealth, honor, hospitality, and welcoming.
I smiled inside with an overwhelming sense of “It’s working.” My goal is to get to know my neighbors more than a wave and a nodding smile. I would like all of us to learn about each other and be willing to help one another. I want to get a few other neighbors to help create a little community on our street. It would be fun if people started talking to each other, and maybe learn what each of us needs in an emergency.
CHRISTMAS, oh my! Have you been naughty or nice this year? After checking with a few neighbors to see if they would participate, should I plan a Secret Santa exchange? I have a plush, homemade Santa Suit with big white cuffs, hat and beard, even wrap around material to look like boots. Do you think Santa should walk up and down the street (if it’s not raining) and pass out something simple? How do I plan for the young kids? Candy canes are already on standby. Maybe lead a sing-along with neighbors standing in front of their homes? Now, I’m not a great singer, but it doesn’t matter for something like this; it’s all about participation, spreading good cheer, and building a sense of community. I’d like to remember ending 2020 with some fun—even if Santa has to wear a mask!
Sue Curtzwiler
11/28/2020 ©

Here’s your 29th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW Newsletter Editor, Nancy Guarnera. Thank you, Nancy!
The Light Shining in the Dark
In our darkest times
We look for the light.
Any light.
The smallest flicker
In an inky darkness…
A tiny flame that draws us to it.
The closer we get, 
The larger and brighter
The light becomes.
It shows us the truth about darkness…
It has no substance; 
It is not real,
Not a thing in and of itself.
It’s simply the absence of light.
The darkness of heart
Is a dark that resists light.
It lives in fear of love, 
Because it does not know love.
It lives in fear of joy, 
Because it does not know joy.
Just as we may do damage 
Or cause chaos 
as we fumble about in the darkness,
So too, are we inclined
To create calamity 
When we move from a darkened heart
I pity the dark hearted.
Until they open their eyes 
And see the light…
Until they open their hearts 
And know love…
They will not understand 
The true power we all have.
The power of love.
The power of the light within us,
When loosed, banishes the dark, 
And creates the joy
We all crave.
After so much darkness,
Perhaps it’s time to follow the light within us.
Nancy Guarnera 

Here’s your 28th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW Volunteer Coordinator and Hospitality Co-Chair, Sue Curtzwiler. Thank you, Sue!

Red Sky,
Oh My.
Close windows, doors,
Clean floors.
Time to eat,
Veggie treat.
Stay healthy,
Dance briskly.
Take charge at the helm.
Don’t aimlessly wander,
Take time to wonder.
If you start to stray,
Then, start to pray.
Don’t give up,
Give thanks and look up!
Sue Curtzwiler
9/13/2020 ©

Here’s your 27th SIP NOTE submitted by FAW Webmaster, Scott Davidson. Thanks, Scott!
When I was in high school, I realized that I didn’t know anything. While I was learning plenty from my excellent classes and fine teachers, it wasn’t enough, so I set upon a program of reading everything I could find.
I read cosmology, I read biology, I read history. I read very ancient history, I read the history of the middle ages, I read about the Revolution, and both World Wars. I read about movies, and classical music, I read philosophy.
I read plays – Shakespeare of course, but also Shaw, Thornton Wilder, George S. Kauffman.
All this reading paid off. It got me on Jeopardy. But there is so much more. I read Joyce’s Ulysses. I read Richard Burton’s translation of the Arabian Nights. Dirty. I just read the Decameron. Even dirtier. That was written two thirds of a millennium ago during another plague, and it is the tale of the ten stories each told by ten people sheltering in place over a period of ten days.
I doubt anything we write will last 670 years. But we all can use this shelter in place time to break the walls we are behind, and travel to other times, other places, other planets. We can dive into the atom or we can swim with blue whales.
As for me, I’m still working on knowing everything. It is taking longer than I thought.
Scott Davidson

Here’s your 26th SIP NOTE submitted by the Editor of Ink Spots, Nancy Guarnera.
the change is coming
they toil in the field
planting seeds
in the mind and in the heart
searching for fertile soil
they watch for signs
of germination
in the mind and in the heart
tending new growth
they water and weed
as the fruit ripens
in the mind and in the heart
preparing for the bounty
they rejoice with the harvest
for the change is coming
nancy guarnera
© 1993

Here’s your 25th Weekly SIP NOTE submitted by our FAW President, Terry Tosh. Thanks, Terry!
The Splendor of a Moment
Have you ever caught a glimpse of something, not necessarily anything important, or earthshaking, just…something?
A certain something that exudes a spiritual fragrance of joy or peace…or any number of the fruits that our God has allowed mankind to partake of.
I think I’ll just name it “the Splendor of a Moment.”
Yeah, can you capture that?
You’re sitting in a spot of extreme beauty, or maybe not even that, maybe just driving along in your car—or just sitting, gazing off into the cosmos of your thoughts and there it is—a moment. Just a moment in time. You are suddenly overwhelmed by the beauty of life—in a plant, a place, a scene. Anything, or even what anyone else might consider nothing. That Splendor of a Moment only lasts about that long; a moment. Then it subsides into the mists of your subconscious, maybe never to be reborn in your own time.
The Splendor of a Moment can only remain, it seems, at the apex of an experience for that instant. It can’t go on any longer than that, at least in this lifetime. Perhaps this little Splendor of a Moment is God’s gift to Mankind as His way of allowing us a glimpse of Heavenly realms? It would be an unfathomable potential, wouldn’t it?
Didn’t God say we only look through a glass darkly—that we cannot begin to realize just what our God has in store for those who love Him and keep His commandments? Don’t overlook that point!
Remember, please try to remember one of your Splendor of a Moment experiences.
Sometimes God will remind us of that moment anew, almost as a rebirth in our hearts and minds. It may be in a word reheard, or a place revisited, or a smell revived in our souls. Instantly we traverse the portals of time and place, once more to relive that Splendor of a Moment—just a moment—just for now.
Terry Tosh


Here’s your 24th Weekly SIP NOTE submitted by FAW Volunteer Coordinator and Hospitality Co-chair, Sue Curtzwiler. Thank you, Sue!
Red September Morning
Colors of red, orange, and fog mixed in the early morning Wednesday sky. It was eerie.
I woke up about 6:30 AM, wandered to the kitchen, looked through the window and thought—no visible blue sky, clouds, or sun—this can’t be right! I better go back to bed. Every 20 or 30 minutes I tried to get up, I just couldn’t pull myself together. I had an 8:40 AM appointment, and I literally could not wake up. Somehow, l finally made it to my appointment.
Approaching the car, there was a layer of ash dust everywhere. The sky still dim, it was like a time warp. Some people even described it as a war zone, or worse—what they imagined the apocalypse might look like. My whole day was “off.” Thankfully, a dinner planned for Wednesday had been rescheduled to Friday night.
Special air quality alerts were broadcasted all day. The red sky was explained as the layered-cake atmosphere. Ash particulate matter was blocking the blue rays of the light, causing our sky to have a range of red to orange and anything in between. Ironically, the air was safer on Wednesday than it was going to be the next few days. The redness of the sky still hung in the air, as I washed my car later that day. Saturday, I saw a dusting of ash on my dashboard inside the car. Yes, my car windows were closed. Someone in Lucky’s mentioned the inside of her car was ashy too; it must have come through the air vents.
Our air continues to be unhealthy and it doesn’t look like we’ll see significant clearing for another few days. I’m so tired of being shut in and feeling like I’m putting myself in harm’s way when I go out to run errands. I don’t feel comfortable to do my short walks right now.
These last couple of weeks, I had to let down my exposure guard going out of the area looking for a quality, but affordable recumbent bike. After a few days of shopping and scouring the internet on my own, it was either get something that didn’t quite work, or order online, and risk assembly and a proper fit for my back and legs. My nephew checked social media and found an amazing option, a sports gym-level bike at an amazing price. The bike is only two years old and immaculate. I rented a U-Haul truck; we went to San Francisco, so that I could sit on the bike and try it out—a perfect fit. A slight hiccup, the bike is temporarily in front of my sofa.
Next project during this shut-in is to clear space, yet again, to get the bike into my library/music room. This will definitely keep me busy for quite a while. It will require reworking three rooms to fix one room, but I can finally be done. 2020 has been a time of incredible challenge. I’m looking forward to 2021.
Sue Curtzwiler

Here’s your 23rd Weekly SIP NOTE submitted by FAW President, Terry Tosh. Thank you, Terry!
…when others waiver.
unmoving FAITH, steady STRENGTH
solid, tempered ROCK
Hope, Change (but not FACADE)
Awakened Conscience; firm TRUTH
Terry Tosh

Here’s your 22nd Weekly SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member and FAW Secretary, Rekha Ramani.Thank you, Rekha!
I’ve realized for the past three months or a little more, sheltering in place at home, I have delved a lot in self-discovery. I found this out, quite by accident in daily living, instead of making it an experiment. 
I am a substitute teacher and have been unemployed ever since this started. I have always depended on subbing for mental stimulation and some creativity. I like day-to-day subbing; I like the flexibility of scheduling my own workdays. There is absolutely no pressure and no force of commitment involved. 🙂 So I had some trepidation of how I was going to fill my time during this pandemic. 
Then I found myself doing the routine chores of cooking and cleaning the house. I had to feed my husband while he was working from home, and of course our kids (now adults) who were sheltering in place with us. 
In the process, I found exhilaration quite by accident to reiterate. I never knew it would exude from simple yet mundane chores like cooking and cleaning. I was so focused and enjoyed the process subconsciously. To see sparkling hardwood floors, a gleaming kitchen sink, not a single utensil cluttering the counter, beaming bathrooms, and my capacity to organize myself came as an astounding surprise to me, unlike my usual, easy going, and sometimes even abominably lazy self. My phone calendar was now dotted with a schedule for routine chores and I actually would secretly exhale—“Ah Rekha, way to go!” 🙂 I call this exhilaration, a form of poetic happiness. 
Then my daughter, one day slipped into the kitchen and learned a few, not-easy South Indian recipes from me! She expressed happiness cooking in my company! I was so elated at her interest and it sparked a new, motherly energy from me. I patted myself on my back for being a great Mom—this feeling deep inside me was a blessing from the higher spheres. I had found exhilaration, yet again. 
We’ve been in this house for 15 years and I rarely remember myself stepping out into our backyard deck, with our apple and cherry trees casting their pristine shadows on the bright red paint of our deck. Well, simply said, I “dared” venture into our backyard, hosed down the dust laden deck chairs and daintily planted myself on one of them, the branches of the apple tree weighing down with fruit, inviting me into its awesome lair. It seemed like I had never laid eyes on an apple tree before! I picked up an empty book and started journaling; it was exhilarating with the gentle breeze, the swaying trees, and the warm sunshine lighting up my soul. 🙂 This, too, would become a part of my routine.
Then I was inspired by an article in the Reader’s Digest; a woman wrote 365 hand written notes, and mailed them to friends and acquaintances. I followed suit, not with thank-you notes, but hand written letters (also with a thank-you in them) to friends near and far. I just sent two out today. My joy was boundless. I am still continuing to have fun as I write more letters, even to folks in India. Yes! Exhilaration shone her beautiful face on me. 🙂
I remember the time when my daughter and I took a trip to Hawaii last December. It was a mother-daughter trip. I won’t say it wasn’t a memorable trip; but I was stressed out and anxious:  with the booking of several local tours and shows, and the hell-bent nature of being at these places on time, lest we were late to a show, or missed the whale watching tour, if I didn’t navigate my driving to reach on time. I even forgot at one point, how to drive our rental car. I started the engine and got confused with the accelerator and the brake! 🙁 My daughter found all of this very amusing. I panicked and she took over. Much of the time, I had my heart in my mouth, punctuated, of course, with my transient enjoyment of the different events which we had planned. I couldn’t enjoy the helicopter ride in Kauai—again my heart literally popping out of my mouth—because just a couple of days ago a helicopter had crashed while touring and not a single passenger survived! Overall, I needed a vacation from my vacation! One true enjoyment I found was the company of my daughter. 🙂 
I can take a vacation right here in the security of my home! I have found ways to get creative even with mundane chores. I have discovered niches inside my house that offer joy. In the process, simple pleasures have shown me their true, scented colors. 
I am not jealous of people who scram for vacations in these deeply restricted times, who complain of not being able to visit the beach or dine inside restaurants. 
I find exhilaration right here, inside my humble home. 🙂
Stay safe, healthy and peaceful, and enjoy the hidden, simple nuances of exhilaration. 🙂

Here’s your 21st Weekly SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member and CWC Representative, Tish Davidson.Thank you, Tish!

My Jungle Garden (see photos below)
I’ve always had a garden. My mother grew up in a large family that today would be called food insecure, but back then was just called poor. They had a big garden that they depended on for food to be eaten fresh in the summer or canned for future use. We had two gardens when I was growing up. One in the backyard, the other on a parcel of undeveloped land whose owner allowed a few families to use it to plant vegetables. Tending a garden was something you just did, like cleaning the house or washing clothes. And the habit stuck. When I was in graduate school, I qualified for a community garden plot for low-income residents. Later, my husband and I had backyard gardens in Louisiana, New Jersey, and now here in California.
Our garden produces plenty of vegetables, but I am not a good gardener. Yes, I know how to compost and amend the soil, how to plant, weed, and water. My problem is one of sentimentality. I am a sucker for volunteers—vegetable plants that come up from seed not intentionally planted. Perhaps the compost didn’t get hot enough to kill the seeds from that butternut squash we ate last fall. Or maybe we missed some tomatoes when we harvested, and they dropped to the ground only to die, then come to life again in the spring. Or a squirrel helped out by burying some half-eaten veggie. We’ve had volunteer squash, three generations of cherry and regular tomatoes, onions that escaped our notice and wintered over, oregano, and parsley that seeds down and then then springs to life with weed-like enthusiasm. Last year, two volunteer butternut squash gifted us with 26 offspring while taking over half the garden and climbing over my neatly planted rows.
A good gardener would weed out volunteer invaders, but I can’t make myself destroy them. I admire too much the persistence of these survivors who endure winter chill and rain and darkness only to emerge in spring to outcompete a new crop of store-bought plants. Their resilience and determination to live never fails to impress me, and I honor that by allowing them to grow. Now, in the time of Covid-19, a time when we are all little discouraged, a tad depressed, a touch dispirited, I look at my garden volunteers and think, yes, this too will pass. In time, our lives will come forth from sheltering in place, blossom, and bear fruit again. We are survivors.
Tish Davidson

Here’s your 20th Weekly SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member and Ink Spots Editor, Nancy Guarnera.
My Dear Fremont Area Writers,
I hope that you and those you love are safe, healthy and happy.
Well, here we are in mid-August and things seem to be getting worse, not better. Not sure about the rest of you, but I’m recognizing signs of pandemic fatigue in myself and others. It seems like one piece of discouraging news after another. So many people, in so many places, for so many reasons are hurting…people we know…people we don’t know and never will. It looks and feels like the whole world is falling apart. It seems like there’s not much we can to do to make things better. There’s a helplessness that takes over, and drives away hope.
This is not meant to make you feel discouraged or weak or bad; just an acknowledgement of what some of you may be feeling right now, or observing in others. Even though we may not realize it when we see it or experience it, there are signs.
When things get so big that I can’t see beyond them, the time has come to look to the light that’s always there…within me. It’s time to refocus my attention and to lift myself and others out of the doldrums. It’s time to shake off the unnecessary isolation, and reconnect.
An 80 year-old friend, I thought was being cared for by others, called me a few days ago in distress. We had talked the week before and he seemed in good spirits, even though he’d had surgery on his leg earlier in the week. Now he was in tears and disoriented. He’s on several new meds that are affecting him in ways that are frightening to him. It’s been hot, he has no AC, and he gotten dehydrated. My husband, Robert, and I came to the rescue…got him some water and his favorite diet Snapple. We’ve since talked to a few of his other friends, and together we’re working out a plan that will keep him in the supplies he needs and provides the human contact that is vital for someone who lives alone in the age of COVID-19; especially, one of our venerated elders. It was a wake-up call for me.
Recently, I’ve had this feeling of being unstuck in time and place; no idea what day or time it is…and not really caring. I feel disconnected from the world as I SIP. Isolated. Wondering when, if ever, I’ll be able to hug the people I love and miss. After the incident with my friend, I looked at my text threads and realized it’s been months since I’ve been in touch with many of the people I care about. That’s not like me. I am not an ostrich, but recently I’ve been behaving like one.
It took a friend calling in desperation to wake me up. To remind me I have a light that I can shine on everyone and that the more I do it, the better and more alive I feel. And the world is a better place for it. My friend needed help, and I was so grateful to be able to provide it—not just for his benefit, but for my own, as well.
I started these notes, so that “even though we couldn’t be together socially, we could be together emotionally” (Thank you, Kamala Harris, for these words back in April). So today, I want to remind all of us that almost nothing thrives when neglected. Life goes on whether we’re paying attention or not…and it can change in a heartbeat. Sheltering in place is not an excuse to disconnect from others.
While the odds may seem insurmountable at times, the light within us, shared with each other, can chase away the darkness—the fear and sadness that simultaneously drives us apart and pulls us together. While we mourn, we must also remember to celebrate. None of us can solve all these “problems” by ourselves, but united, in love, we can withstand anything; we can solve anything. We just need to make the decision to do it.
When we can’t be with each other, and we can’t see each other (and we can now, with Zoom and Facetime), we can still hear each other. The human voice can be an elixir of life to the soul. We need each other right now. Reach out, connect with someone you care about; it will lift their spirits and yours. Sometimes, a simple phone call is all it takes.
Stay safe, healthy and happy!
P.S. I need more SIP notes from you. Otherwise, it will just be my “voice” you hear, and that will get boring very quickly. Send me your notes! Thanks!


Here’s your 19th Weekly SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member and Vice President, Knuti VanHoven. Thanks, Knuti!
Dear Fellow Inmates:
It seems that Life is changing to accommodate the CORONA 19 lockdown.
I sing with three big bands, plus as a church soloist. When this started, ALL of the gigs I had scheduled for 2020 were cancelled, including New Year’s Eve, which is usually our biggest night.
For two months, without rehearsals or performances to go to, I wrote a lot more than I usually have time to. I even sorted my house! And to my husband’s dismay, I cooked! 
Then, the churches started calling again!  
Weirdly, they wanted me to sing on Zoom (which I discovered, was like Skype, but I didn’t know how to operate that, either.)  
The choir that my husband sings in began rehearsing together, then they’d each record their individual voice parts and email them to the “techie” who mixed them into a seventeen-piece performance—and it sounded very good!
My niece called and announced that she was completely daunted by the fact that she had to learn to do her job by Zoom. She took time off for stress, but she learned it. She’s still employed. 
My neighbors, who had the option of working at home, joined her unhappily. The “essential workers” I know expressed gratitude for the people who stayed home and lessened their exposure levels.
One by one, people I knew began to talk about visiting friends and relatives and attending performances by Zoom.
My bargain hunting pals are bragging about finding deals among the price gougers on Amazon.  
So, life is going on, even while pals who used to hug me, can only smile and wave from their cars.  
Folks on my street are surviving, and even having fun in this “new normal”  
It’s like living in a spaceship that’s eerily reminiscent of my own living room. It’s the same, yet very, very different. 
Even so, the view of the stars outside my window hasn’t changed. And many nights, because of the lower pollution levels we’ve achieved, they look clearer and brighter than before.
Knuti VanHoven

Here’s your 18th Weekly SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member and President, Terry Tosh. Thanks, Terry!
President’s Message  AUG 2020
So, anyway…
Ever feel like you might just be a character in a badly written comedy/drama/tragedy in which the author couldn’t come up with a nice wrap-up, and kept erasing and rewriting the chapter you are currently stuck in? Just wondered…
I am so grateful for our phenomenal Nancy Guarnera for her unwavering dedication and talent. She single-handedly kept the fires of inspiration burning while I chilled out, enjoying the summer break and feasting on the fruits of her labor as we devoured the weekly SIP Notes, TMAS teasers, and the latest edition of Ink Spots! (Normally, we don’t publish a newsletter in July.) On behalf of the entire membership, I offer a hearty Thank You, Nancy!
It was weird not having our picnic this year, but par for the course, in this year of weirdness gone wild. I read that some groups had virtual picnics, and gave it a very short thought…then decided no, it just wouldn’t be the same. 
I trust that everyone stayed safe and healthy during this past month, and those of us that work essential jobs are keeping to the safety protocols as strictly as possible.
Now, back to business as (un)usual. Let’s continue to be “writers helping writers” in as much capacity as possible. Please renew your membership if not already done, as we need to maintain the numbers needed to qualify as a branch, as well as attempt to grow in this tough environment. Our board meeting will continue to be zoomed on the Tuesday afternoon (3:30-5:00 PM) immediately prior to the 4th Saturday General Meeting (2:00-4:00 PM), which appears to still be destined to be zoomed, as well.
Please do your best to attend our meetings as appropriate. We need your talent and interaction to achieve success as an integral part of the CWC body of writers and contributors to this creative and potentially lucrative field that we have chosen to pursue.
Here’s to a healthy and productive month for all of you, and your families; I hope to “see” you all soon.
Terry Tosh

Here’s your 17th Weekly SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member Margot Roletto. Thanks Margo!
I’ve been pursuing some legal, energetic, and satisfying escapism lately. Normally, I procrastinate to avoid serious house cleaning activities, boring paperwork, or activities involving fear of failure or unnecessary discomfort. However, as a gardener and nature lover, playing in my compost bin takes me to a whole different world.
I feed a few hundred wriggly earthworms and a variety of tiny creatures and organisms. They help me turn fruit and vegetable kitchen waste, coffee grounds, green garden cuttings, and dry leaves and twigs into rich garden soil, and it all feels extremely creative.  
My tools are simple: gloves, trowel, clippers, and enough water to keep everything moist. The only danger involves back pain from prolonged bending. Sadly, this problem increases with age. Some people worry that compost will smell like a garbage dump, but because it’s kept very vegetarian, mine has no strong scent at all. As I add to the feast, I’m reminded of salads and side dishes I’ve served my husband at our dinner table, and I wonder which critters prefer which fruits and veggies. 
“Anyone for slightly brown lettuce or bright orange carrot peelings? Like a few smashed eggshells to add calcium, or how about some peels of sweet golden mango? I’m adding “Peet’s” coffee grounds, still in brown filters – no bleach used.”
This bin, with its hungry inhabitants, helps me forget briefly the pandemic situation all around me. I hope I’m not alone enjoying a creative, backyard compost escape.
Margo Roletto

Here’s your 16th Weekly SIP NOTE submitted by FAW members Marie Blanchard & Tony Pin
Hi Nancy,
I liked your comments on gratitude, so I’ll share with you the thing I have been most immediately grateful for in the past month: mucous. After emptying a vacuum canister, I accidentally inhaled a large amount of dust and grit. Coughing and sneezing were not enough. It took about 30 minutes for me forcibly coughing the stuff out, each cough producing a thumbnail size mucous glob neatly surrounding a feather-like piece of dust. Without this wonderful substance working for me, I would be dead of pneumonia instead of writing to you.
But I had to laugh when I said right after I felt my lungs open up, “I’m so grateful for mucous.”     -Marie Blanchard
Really nice piece, Tish.
You’ve touched on a hot button for me and one I’m passionate about, though have learned to keep my mouth mostly shut. Kids need free, unstructured time without manufactured playthings.
Creativity isn’t learned in putting something together the way someone else has mandated. Self-esteem isn’t built by someone saying to every motion, every right answer, “Good job,” or “That’s wonderful.
Enough rant. But thank you, Tish.
Marie Blanchard
I like your story! It shows that you don’t need endangerment to hold a reader’s interest, and that something positive can be described and narrated in an engaging way. Congrats!
Tony Pino

Here’s your 15th Weekly SIP NOTE submitted by FAW member, Urmila Patel. Thank you, Mila!
Finally, I found my space
When I was working, I wished I could be home. I know I’ll be happier sitting in front of a television with a hot chocolate than at this stupid job. I’m getting goosebumps whenever I think of my couch, a friend said.
“Bang.” something invisible dropped out from nowhere, and it’s harmful. It’s all over in the news. California governor announced shelter in place. No one is allowed to go out.
Does that mean I can’t meet my friends for a chit-chat? I can’t go to the gym? That’s ridiculous. This friend said. My heart is drumming, and my blood pressure is going up. I feel imprisoned. I miss my work.
Ladies and gentlemen, this has happened to many people.
What I want to point out is that we are continually looking for happiness on the surface level while it’s within us. It’s in our creativity, our cooking, reading, writing, even looking at certain things in the house we never saw before. We take things for granted. Don’t we?
How many of us have looked at every detail in our house and said, “Wow,” I never knew this blue tile has a smiley face.
When I heard California ordered SIP, I thought for a moment. What did that mean to me? Nothing much would change except I’ll be missing meetings in person, giving hugs, and not liking wearing a mask in public.
But something happened to me during this period. I thought I was happy, but I wasn’t. There was something I was missing—a corner. For years I’ve been struggling to find that space, a small hole from where I could feel safe doing my creative work. I was running like crazy, so all I did was suppress that pain inside.
Now I was home. I had no TV cable to watch those depressing news shows and no meetings to go to. Life became simpler. With the extra time I had now, I asked myself a question and meditated upon it. Why am I feeling what I am feeling?
As a month passed by, there was something greater happening beyond my conciseness. As the atmosphere was removing the toxins away that it had gathered from our rat-race life, my mind became closer and closer to my answers. I started connecting with my house, which I never did before. How did that happen, I thought?
I painted the ceiling of a room I felt I never wanted to go in before. Guess what? I moved my office space over there. After 17 years, I released I have a balcony.
Now I wave to my neighbors passing. Evenings, I watch the light pinkish color of the sky as the sun goes to sleep, and I lay with my grandson on the balcony for hours to count the stars and watch the Milky Way as they blink at us.
That’s not all.
In the backyard, the soil in the garden started breathing. We’ve been told for generations, “When mother earth breaths, we breathe, too.”
For years, the garden was sad. Hardly any vegetables showed up to say hello. Now, tomato plants wearing their yellowish head-cover on every figure started lifting their spines as high as they could reach. “How did you get here?” I asked. Remember, they said, in the winter, you threw the bad ones away. Like these, dill, potatoes, onions, garlic, and strawberry plants filled up the space, which it never did for many years, but the mint still shows a bit of grudge. So I moved its home to the sunny area.
Now every corner is being used. Every space gets my energy. 
But what about my killer smile? No one can see it when I go shopping.
“Well, it’s okay!” I said. At least you will save on makeup, and creams that you buy to remove those dark spots from your face.
The missing space within is filled. I feel balanced!
Urmila Patel

Here’s your 14th Weekly SIP NOTE submitted by Tish Davidson, member and FAW Representative to the CWC Central Board. Thank you, Tish!


Unstructured Time: A Summer Project
I live across the street from an elementary school. Normally the street teems with cars and school buses, kids on scooters, kids on bikes, kids on foot. Today it is empty. It’s late March, and we are all sheltering in place.
Parallel to the street, between a row of scruffy bushes and the playground, lies a strip of hard-packed naked dirt. A teenage boy appears with a shovel and begins to dig. This strip does not inspire visions of sandcastles or buried treasure, so I watch him. The day is hot. The boy takes off his t-shirt, hangs it on a bush, and continues to dig. His back glistens in the sun. He digs and digs then puts on his shirt, and he and his shovel leave. He appears the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, and continues to dig. On the fifth day, he is joined by two more, slightly younger, kids. They move to a different spot where bushes obscure exactly what is going on. I am intrigued.
It is now the second week of April. Four kids, helmeted and masked, arrive on bikes. One boy takes off down the strip. He partially disappears into a dip, then flies through the air. He is followed by two boys and a girl. The light dawns. These kids have built a bike challenge course. After several runs, they sit on their bikes, social distancing and talking. After a couple more runs, they disappear, but after dinner two of them are back with tools. They begin to build a ramp.
The bike brigade appears the next day and the next. Then something interesting happens. Several new kids come on their own and try out the course. Then two young kids with their father come by and ride the course at low speed. A couple of adults detour off the street to give it a try. A few days later, two preschoolers appear and creep through the strip, parent at their side. By now the ramp has been extended and the older kids are getting bigger air.
By May the course has a steady trickle of users from lunchtime until dark. One day two adults on motorcycles ride through. Every evening two or three teens stop by to do maintenance.
One evening I approach them. They look apprehensive, as if they think I am going to yell at them. They tell me they have permission to keep the course until school starts. I tell them I am impressed with the diligence of their upkeep and allow them to get water from the spigot in front of our house.
This project, teen initiated, teen maintained, and used by the neighborhood makes me appreciate the value of unstructured time in young lives. Other summers, these kids likely would be in sports camps or academic enrichment programs. The oldest might have summer jobs. Instead, they have imagined and created a summer project they will remember for the rest of their lives. Perhaps we should all be more appreciative for the doors that open when routine is broken.


Here’s your 13th Weekly SIP NOTE submitted by Cherilyn Chin, member and FAW Treasurer.
Thank you, Cherilyn!
Wouldn’t you know, my computer crashed after I wrote my SIP note. Here’s what I remember saying:
As an introvert, I’ve found staying home a good thing. I always tell myself that I’ll write more, especially because I (supposedly) have more time. I try most mornings to write for at least 15 minutes upon waking, but I fail miserably when my emails beckon. I get sucked down that hole and I skip writing for the day.
But, I discovered the other week, I have a first draft of my middle-grade children’s novel about a Hawaiian girl and boy who discover that their beloved coral reef has bleached, and they have to solve the mystery of why.
I hand write my first drafts and only recently typed up a few pages. I quickly realized I have a 30,000 word first draft, the low end of a middle-grade novel. I’m not done by any means, but I can edit while I type up my manuscript.
I have put up a few blog posts on my ocean conservation blog, “Ocean of Hope,” which I invite you to check out. It’s been a labor of love for me for the past 10 years! I welcome any feedback and suggestions for future posts. https://protecttheoceans.org/wordpress


SIP Note # 12 from Nancy Guarnera


It’s Monday, and by now, you’re probably used to getting your weekly SIP Note.

I checked my folder last night and realized I had used all of the notes people have been sending me. These were originally from our Board members, but some of you asked if you could participate, so all of you were invited to submit a Note(s), if you felt like it; and some of you did. Please send some more.

We’ve had poetry and suggestions about how to use our time productively while SIPing; how to be creative with food; build a new routine; share time with others on Zoom; and occasionally, peeks into each other’s lives. Some have been very personal and others more general. Some uplifting and some not so much but hopefully made you think or even feel something that helped get you through these interesting times.

My hope, when I conceived this, was that we would share words of inspiration and encouragement with each other; that we’d stay connected emotionally over the time that we were unable to be together socially. Now we’re using Zoom to connect for meetings—a social gathering of sorts. (This Saturday is the general meeting—everyone is welcome—you should already have an invitation, with another reminder coming to you by email on Wednesday. Hope to see lots of you there.)

Call me crazy… but I think the emotional connection still needs to be encouraged. One thing I don’t think we’ve done, at least not over the last 11 weeks, is express our gratitude.

Yes, I know that CoronaV has really inconvenienced us in big ways—remember freaking out about toilet paper, needing a haircut, canceling appointments, events and trips? (Let’s remember that there are places in the world where humanity manages to live without toilet paper. Hmmm…wonder what they use there. Now here’s an interesting bit of research for someone; I suspect this may vary from place to place.)

Having to improvise toilet paper is one thing…but it’s important to remember that for many people this pandemic has meant the loss of life—their own or someone they love. Or, if you’re unfortunate enough to live in NYC, probably more than one life. And if you’re a person who works in a hospital in NYC (or some other hot spot anywhere—a nursing home, meat packing plant, etc.), you’ve probably “lost” lots of people: some you’ve loved, some were co-workers, and some were strangers to you. Now it’s not just hot spots, it’s everywhere. And it looks like it may be coming back around for a second bite at our apple, because we just couldn’t quite believe what was happening to us, and we didn’t all do what the science suggested we needed to do to flatten the curve to protect ourselves and each other. Blaming is a futile exercise that doesn’t effect change for the better. So let’s move on.

So what does this have to do with gratitude, you ask? Well, as bad as things may get, one can always look for the good. It’s always there; even with something as devastating as a global pandemic. That’s why we have the saying: “every cloud has a silver lining.” And actually, if you rise above the stormy, angry clouds, and the rain and the lightning, you’ll discover not just a lining, but bright, sunny clouds everywhere you look—and rainbows, lots and lots of them. I know this sounds Pollyanna-ish, but it is actually, physically, true: I’ve seen it with my very own eyes. Seriously, rainbows of every shape and size . . . even a round one with the shadow of our plane in the middle of it. Seriously . . .

When we look for the good, or the bad, we find it. It’s really just how life presents itself to us. So, pay attention to what you’re looking for…the good or the bad, because you will find it.

Here’s a simple exercise for you to try:  spend an hour, if you can stand that much, listening to or watching cable news. How do you feel after doing that? If you’re enjoying the experience, keep watching, you may need some extra time with it before you start to feel anxious and afraid, or at the very least, confused.

Now, grab a pad and a pen (or sit at your keyboard—if you’re a writer, your computer’s probably on) and start listing everything you can think of that you’re grateful for…here’s just a smidge of my list to get you started:

I am so grateful for . . . my life . . . my family . . . my friends . . . my life partner . . . every pet I’ve ever owned . . . every person, known or unknown to me, who has shown me kindness when I needed it . . . every house, apartment, room, shelter from the storm I’ve ever lived in     every religion, philosophy, and practice that has fed my spirit/soul . . . every opportunity life has given me to help others . . . every creative talent I was born with and have been able to explore . . . every job I’ve had . . . toilet paper . . . flowers . . . roses . . . indoor plumbing . . . grocery stores . . . healthy food to eat . . . clean drinkable water at the turn of a tap . . . clean, breathable air . . . orchids . . . my good health . . . inventors . . . books . . . colors and my ability to see them . . . smart phones . . . computers . . . television . . . movies . . . the beach . . . trees . . . mountains . . . rivers . . . people who put their lives at risk so I don’t have to . . . babies . . . all the people in my life who have loved me and let me love them . . . clouds with silver linings . . . And the list goes on without end!

Not only may doing this bring tears, it lifts my spirit and swells my heart with how incredibly wonderful my life is—even in the midst of a pandemic. It reminds me that the purpose of life is to enjoy (to be in joy) life. Being grateful for everything, puts me on the path to joy no matter what may be happening around me. For me . . . I’d trade misery for joy every day of the week . . . every day of my life. Gratitude—being grateful—lets me do that.

I used to keep a gratitude journal; tonight I start a new one, again. Every night before I turned off my light to go to sleep, I would think of and list five things from my day for which I was grateful. For a while it was hard to come up with five. Soon it was hard to stop at five; sometimes I’d fill a whole page, or more. Eventually, I filled a whole notebook. Try this, you may find it doesn’t just make it easier to fall asleep at night, it can actually change your life…or at least the way you look at it, and how you feel about it. Is it good…or…is it bad…or is it all good? The choice is yours, ours and mine.

Don’t forget to start your list…

SIP Note # 11 from Tony Pino

Memorial Day

May 25, 2020

Pale soldier, head bent backward with purple lips

and gray-green eyes, fixed on an angel I cannot see.


the young man’s feet are plugged in rubble, and

metallic flies assemble among the stones.

They sing a dirge and then depart

To visit a dying cow beyond a stone wall


Angel, can you hear me?

What year is this?


Nineteen seventeen?

Nineteen forty


Two thousand and twenty?

Elsewhere a mother and father


will receive a letter and a medal

and the testimony of friends


a ritual overseen by angels.

SIP Note #10 from Anita Tosh

I have to apologize everybody. At least to the ones who are not having a great SIPing experience. You see, I have been asking God to make a way for me to stay home and work on my writing (among other things) and He answered my prayer! He does this for me all the time. God is so good!

I used to work part time after my retirement, but I really wanted to stay home. I am one of those strange women who love homemaking. I love cooking, baking, sewing, gardening; I even enjoy cleaning the house (within reason).

My husband works part time at an essential kind of place, and I can have lunch ready for him when he gets home. I CAN. But sometimes I get busy writing and….

Best of all, I have been able to get into a routine with my writing. First thing in the morning I check how many people have viewed my “bubbles” from Bublish. It was exciting getting to 1000. Even more exciting getting to 10,000! I have written several chapters in my next book and took online classes teaching me how to use adobe audition so that I can put out an audible version of my books.

I am sorry for those of you having a rotten time, but I am loving it.

SIP Note #9 from Carmen Von Tickner

What is this thing called SIP

Some folks just say it’s a new fling

But I don’t buy all that they say

I’ll cling to HAPPY and stay that way


I call this SIP a gift of TIME

To do the things I haven’t done

Cause doing NOTHING is a crime

And I just hate to WASTE my time


Work in my garden, pull out some weeds

Feed my rose bushes, plant some new seeds

Shred tons of paper, it does pile up

Call up my sister to share memories

Read a few books, learn something new

Arrange all those photos long overdue

Write a few letters to friends that I know

Who don’t do emails, nor chat on the phone


Return to my art, my other love

Dab on a canvas with vivid hues

Creating a picture as words to a verse

Critique or redo, to blend in the mood


My list of “to do’s” seems never to end

But honestly folks, it’s life at its best

Keeping the faith, and staying strong

Today is a blessing, Tomorrow is a Gift

SIP Note #8 from Rekha Ramani

Hello fellow creative writers,

Hope all of you are safe and well.

I’ve been watching the Task Force briefing on CNN every afternoon, and it’s getting me crazy and lower by the day. Not to get political, a friend of mine suggested NOT watching the news, and stay safe hunkered down at home.

A friend of mine said that she and her family haven’t stepped out of the house since March 20th. She does her groceries completely online. She uses Instacart and for her Indian groceries she texts!! the vendor and gets it home delivered. Whereas, I step out once a week to do my groceries. Can’t push it further than that. Somehow anytime I venture online, at some point the website stalls and keeps me on hold forever. I’ve succeeded at pick-ups from a few stores. Another friend of mine who also is an online shopper, multitasks. She’s teleworking and at the same time making an online order, doesn’t matter if she has to wait an hour till the order goes through. The point is that I don’t have the patience to shop online. To set the alarm at 3 a.m to order Indian groceries!?? No way is that doable for me. 🙂 

Of course I do get nervous before I enter a store. I say a little prayer. I have my cloth mask on, a disinfectant spray and a paper napkin in my purse. If the store doesn’t carry its own wipes, I spray the cart handle with my own disinfectant and wipe it down. I have an agenda whenever I enter a store. The goal is to move quickly, more like a sprint. For example, Walmart (close to my home) which I visit very often (not as often nowadays), I know exactly where my items are. So I know my road map very well. If there are too many people along an aisle, I skip it and move on to the next aisle. It’s like playing hopscotch. I don’t linger at a shelf, just grab and go. It makes me nervous to see people standing still and staring at shelves. I am so paranoid, that I even hold my breath (even behind a mask) when I see people who are close to me, talking. Sort of a breathing exercise. But I guess online shopping is not for me. 🙁 


I’ve had writer’s block close to three months now. But today something struck me and I wrote a poem about the current pandemic. Maybe I’ll submit it for next month’s Ink Spots. It’s nice to catch up with writing again, but would be nicer if the current pandemic ends soon and life would be easier for all of us. Praying for all of us, especially our front-liners.


Stay safe and healthy everyone! Take care.

SIP Note #7 from Scott Davidson

Where has all the time gone?

Once you were forced to shelter in place, I can imagine you thinking about all the extra time you would have. No more going to the mall. No commuting. No grocery shopping (nothing there anyway.) You could finally get caught up on all those things you didn’t have time to do before.

Hasn’t worked out that way, has it?

Wow, I can finally read that stack of books by the bed. Wow, I can make all those recipes I had been meaning to try. Wow, I can binge watch that series on Netflix, and catch up on the movies. Wow, I can wash the walls and vacuum the ceilings. I can do virtual tours of a bunch of museums.

Works great if they make the day 50 hours long. That would leave time for sleep also.

We are flooded with emails and articles giving us suggestions on filling up our copious free time. Pay too much attention to them and you’ll find that when things open again, you’re further behind.

This is nothing new to me. Before I retired, I walked around the house and made a list of the things I wanted to do, which could range from cleaning out a drawer to reading my 2,000 unread science fiction books. Do that, and then you can figure out what’s most important to you, and close your eyes to all the “these 20 books that are great to read” articles.

Do that, and you might even find some time to get some writing in. That’s what we’re about, isn’t it?

SIP Note #6 from Tish Davidson

A SIP Dinner Party

For the past six months I have been part of three couples who have tried to find a date to get together for dinner. Someone always had a conflict—vacation plans, volunteer commitments, new grandchildren to welcome into the world, health problems, surgeries, more health problems. Time passed. The reasons continued. Dinner never happened.

Then along came Shelter in Place. Who would have guessed it would be the perfect time for a dinner party—a virtual one. Consider the advantages to virtual dining. No need to clean the house.  No expense of buying groceries for a crowd. No need to find a recipe to accommodate guests special needs:

  • lactose intolerance
  • gluten free
  • eat only organic
  • vegetarian
  • vegan
  • allergic to seafood
  • allergic to nuts
  • on the paleo diet
  • on the keto diet
  • on any diet

To dine virtually, pick a date and time. Each couple cooks their own food to meet their special needs. At that time, they set up their laptop on the table where they are eating. To connect, each diner or couple sets up a free Zoom account and they choose a host for the dinner meeting. Everyone connects eats and chats, and voila—virtual dinner!

SIP Note #5 from Amber DeAnn

I was at the end of my rope. Jobs and work kept eating up my time, sucking my energy and leaving me feeling drained. Worse of all, my spirit was unhappy. Deep inside me I could feel the yearning for time, space, and creative freedom growing larger and larger. I could feel my expressive inner child growing restless and impatient.


The unfinished art piece waited patiently for my return and sadly every day I walked past it saying, “maybe tomorrow.” The huge stack of unread books captured my attention and called to me, “We are here for you. Where are you?”


 Something inside was about to crack and it was not going to be pretty.


Then Coronavirus hit and soon I got the word—I was furloughed from the inventory job, furloughed from the housecleaning job, the Census job was postponed, and my coaching client was gone. My life was upside down. I stared at the walls, unable to believe the bombshell that had been dropped on me.


Slowly, I remembered my teachings — “When you are unhappy, help someone else” (AAA advice) and “Gratitude opens doors,” (all spiritual teachers).

I felt the urge to make FB Lives sharing my gratitude. Yes, I will do this. I reached for one of my favorite books from the bookcase, flipped the pages and felt a calming satisfaction come over me. I tapped the FB button on my cell phone, then the Live button, positioned the iphone in the holder and I talked. The words gushed from inside me, bypassing my brain, entering cyberworld.

I was alive and functioning again. My heart was excited, my soul happy, my spirit calmed and my passion on fire. I smiled at the books who were my savior, my support, my teachers in that moment. I sighed, realizing being a teacher of practical mysticism was my passion. It was the reason I existed, and it was the source of my inner joy.

The FB views started to grow, the comments intruded into my FB Live meditations, they flooded onto the FB pages, and popped up in my FB messages.

My heart felt joy.  My face smiled. I knew I would read the books now and plan to be a speaker and build my online community.  This was the shove I needed to move into truly being a teacher and healer.

Thanks Corona. 



SIP Note #4 from Sue Curtzwiler

With All Your Heart

Make a routine, chart your projects, create your own recipe, read, or take a nice walk in the neighborhood. These are a few things that might help adjust to shelter-in-place (SIP). Social limitations are not familiar to some of us. Think of something you really enjoy, your “go to place”. You might want to start by writing a routine. Whatever you choose — own it, do it with all your heart.

Cooking is my sandbox, my “go to place.” I love to work with new vegetables, spices, and how to combine them with a main entrée or make a solid vegetarian meal. No, I’m not a vegetarian; occasionally, it’s fun to have variety. Recently, following a recipe in a new cookbook, I needed Star Anise (a slight licorice note) to make a cherry sauce for pork chops. This was before (SIP) was our way of life, but it still was a good excuse to get out. Tonight, my own creation, I sliced a yellow beet into chicken tenders, sliced cherry tomatoes, quinoa, the juice of ½ a lemon, and a little butter. Putting together what’s on hand is how I cook with all my heart. Tonight, I fought the lack of socializing.


SIP Note #3 from Tony Pino

Dear Friends – Today is Saturday, it’s National Poetry Month and I’m “sheltering in place.” In this new pandemic, I frequently sit at a window at the front my house, grading papers and watching dog-walkers, joggers and baby-pushers as they pass by in a springy spirit, garbed in loose pastels and other strong colors. What’s wrong with these people?  Why are they so happy? It seems unfair.

Then the thought comes that I may be the problem, not them.  Yes, it’s true: It’s me, really. Once I read an essay titled “My Poet: Why Do Poets Spend More Time Waiting Than Writing?” by Naeem Murr. (It’s a great read; try it sometime). In this essay, Murr frequently finds his lover staring out a window, just as I’ve been doing this very minute—apparently watching and waiting.

But for what?   

(There goes one now: a middle aged woman walker in black pants and a dark lavender sweat jacket, walking her sweet, cappuccino-colored spaniel. I saw her just recently as I was laboring in my front yard. “Hi, Tony,” she said. Not recognizing her, I smiled in return, and waved unassurely.

How did she know my name? Is there a meaning in this? Were we friends (or enemies) in some previous existence? Was she a flower or a raging dinosaur, and I a lumbering near-extinct bird? If she had been a flower, was I a bee, come-a-courtin’ for her honey? Or was I another form of bee-ing?)

If you have time, sit at a window during this National Poetry Month and era of shelter-in-place. Send me a message; let me know if you learn anything from this passive process.

Here comes another jogger. This one is wearing a thick, black mask. Now we’re getting somewhere! It’s an ambivalent moment. Wake up, poet!

But wait. I haven’t finished grading this paper. It’s been an hour now.   


SIP Note #2 from Terry Tosh

So, Day 22

I am finding out just how true it is that those that are “too busy” are the most productive!

Since I am now in the at-risk category, and most experts recommend we self-isolate, as well as recommending to our family members to stay in other areas of the house to avoid one side or the other of the crisis, it is becoming harder and harder to get out of my rocker/bed/bathroom.

The big excursion of the day is walking the dog. Weekly trip to early admission to grocers. Yard work beckons. Rake practically jumps into my arms. Ok, so I accidentally stepped on the tines, giving it that feeling of an unexpected hug…

Ok! Did one row, is it time for a nap? YEP.

I think this probably has something to do with inertia, maybe?

Hey, I did manage to go on that super long, um, longish bike ride last week; or was that 2weeks ago, already? Yeah, when I still had some semblance of strength left. You know, the one where I only used my “pedal-assist” part of the time, on the way, till I stopped at that duck pond, way down there…at least 3-4 miles…of flat ground.

Then the migraine came on and rescue was required for the return trip. I mean, well, dinner was going to be ready! Oh, lunch? Seemed later.

Thanks, honey, for the rescue. Maybe I’ll go not quite so far this time…bike looks fine. Weather looks good. (Yawn), maybe in a little while.

Keep the Faith!


Terry Tosh

SIP Note #1 from Nancy Guarnera

March 31st

This can certainly be a trying time, scary even. I’d like to pass on something I heard today. We humans like to feel we’re in control and right now, that sense of control feels like it’s being challenged. But, in fact, we have lots of things we can control and focusing on those things can help us stay sane in this crisis. Yes, our regular routines are upended. But, we can choose to create a new routine that helps us move through our day in a way that balances the things that we all need:  sleep; companionship; healthy food; physical activity; something to replace our “work” with, that we actually enjoy doing and perhaps allows us to pursue a passion that under normal circumstances we rarely have time for; and some kind of spiritual practice — yoga, prayer, meditation, journaling, singing, music, daily inspirational quote, etc. Who’s going to stop you? Your cat, your dog, your spouse, your landlord, your parakeet? They may already be doing this. You can, too. Taking back control of your day-to-day experience can be very empowering. We are all creative by our very nature as human beings, and we can create a life that we enjoy if we choose to do so, even when we are sheltering in place (SIP). Now is a perfect time to do this.

Don’t forget to do some deep breathing, if you find yourself panicking.

I like to think of challenges as opportunities I’m being given to learn and grow beyond my currently perceived limitations. Ultimately, my responsibility in any situation, is my ability to respond to the situation. How I do that, is entirely up to me.

And this has finally happened: 

March 31st: I also heard someone suggest that we should all be wearing “masks” whenever we’re in the presence of another. Actually, wearing a bandana or a scarf will help, since masks are at a premium right now. This could become the new CoronaV fashion statement. Anything we can do to keep ourselves and others safe can make a difference.

April 5th: Gentlepeople, make a personal statement with your “Marf,” (your mask/scarf). Yet one more way we can bring a playful,creative, personal touch to our experience. Darn, most of my “marves” are in storage, I think!

Stay happy, healthy, safe, and sane…the choice is yours!