It’s my party and I’ll find hope if I want to: Reflections on birthday cancelled by COVID-19

It’s my party and I’ll find hope if I want to: Reflections on birthday cancelled by COVID-19

What a wild start to the decade. Just three months in, and we’re in a pandemic. I think we’re all still reeling from shock and the stress of it all. And, as our public health officials remind us, we’re just at the beginning.

I’ve had a few near misses with coronavirus. In February, it canceled a work trip to Hong Kong. In March, the same with a trip to Paris in March. How can I complain when I’m lucky enough where I even have a chance to go to these places for work? Each time, I knew days before the event was officially canceled that I wouldn’t be attending. The disappointment slowly settled while I was buoyed by relief. And in the end, I feel grateful for the risk assessment and happy to sit put.

Beyond the canceled events, I’m baffled that I didn’t see this coming. I tracked the virus as the numbers moved skyward in China, and then in Europe, but I still didn’t fully imagine doing the same here at home.

It became very real as COVID-19 canceled my birthday. Well, not entirely. I turned 33 this St. Patrick’s Day. The already low-key dinner date at an Italian restaurant I’ve been wanting to try was nixed as the restaurant, rightly so, has shuttered its doors for the time being. The City of Vancouver, to put a fine point on it, ordered all restaurants and bars in the city to close for St. Patrick’s Day. Sensible, yes, and a marker of the days to come.

As I lamented these wee inconveniences, I recognized how lucky I am to be able to type, healthy, happy, and at a social distance. D and I modified our plans to support another of our fav local pizzerias and clicked glasses at home to another circle around the sun. I chatted with friends and family across the country and city via video, foreshadowing the days to come.

Patio birthday video call
Not a bad spot or a birthday video chat with the famjam.

And in all the doom, gloom, and serious illness, I have found some spots of hope. In my birthday tradition of reflecting on the year, I thought I’d spend some time pondering five bright spots in this strange time:

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Matrimonial Blizzard: The Unabridged Story of our Wedding Day Snowstorm

Matrimonial Blizzard: The Unabridged Story of our Wedding Day Snowstorm

We got married.

It wasn’t certain it would happen. It wasn’t a question of our partnership. It was a question of a ‘Colorado Low’.

I’ve come to loathe this term. I first heard it with the Tuesday weather forecast. My father-in-law, Dennis, who is calm and has a lifetime of prairie storms under his belt said “Ohhhh. A Colorado Low. That’s not good.” I realized then that this snow could be a problem. But it wasn’t until Thursday evening that I came to realize how much this weather system would come to impact our wedding day.

That evening, my cousin called from Alberta to report that Air Canada had canceled his flight. For Friday evening, arriving in Winnipeg. On Thanksgiving weekend. And there wasn’t yet a flake of snow in the provincial sky. I understood then what Derek, ever the realist, had already come to terms with. This wasn’t your average October snow.

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Birthday Thanks for the Internet of (Free) Things

Birthday Thanks for the Internet of (Free) Things

They say the best things in life are free. In this modern age of content and consumerism, I’m still amazed at the amount of knowledge and resources available for free with an internet connection.

I’ve benefited in so many ways from the Internet of Free Things. I’m currently taking a course on solar photovoltaics, gaining the institutional insight of Delft University for $0.

There are three free things I’ve enjoyed so thoroughly in the past few years, I decided it was high time to support them. So, as a birthday gift to myself this year, I’m treating myself to support this trio of free things I love.

#1. Podcasts

I grew up in a household where the speakers were constantly translating the notes from vinyl records or the radio waves of the CBC. My father gave me an appreciation of audio.  Both Mom and Dad encouraged an understanding of the news, locally and globally, on the CBC (even when thirteen-year-old me whined for the K94.9’s Top 9 at 9 instead).

Radio being a long-time companion, I quickly fell in love with podcasts. The best companion for pre-sunrise bus commutes in the prairies. Of course, it was Serial that first drew me in. Then, as I sought interesting Canadian content, I came across Canadaland and Sickboy.

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Meat and Potatoes: On Gratitude and Priviledge

Meat and Potatoes: On Gratitude and Priviledge

The other day I was walking home when a woman standing outside of my building stopped me and asked for help. She had a kind face that was toughened from what seemed to be a difficult life. She spoke to me in Hungarian asking for money or food, but then translated to the internationally understood hand signals for these essentials. I repeated, “No, sorry” and “Nem, bocsánat” and moved to walk past her and into my building. When people ask me for either, I never give cash directly, but if I have some food with me, I’m happy to share. Having none and thinking of the work I wanted to get done that afternoon I was about to continue on with my day.

Rakoszi Market vegetablesShe repeated that international sign for food, and then gestured to her belly. Only then I realized that she was quite pregnant, maybe five or six months. At that moment, I also pulled out my iPhone to stop the podcast I was enjoying. The two movements combined reminded and humbled me of my incredible luck in being born to a loving, wealthy (by world standards, not North American ones), Canadian family. I tucked away my iPhone and mustered my minor Hungarian to offer to buy some food for her at a nearby restaurant.

We walked together down the street. We continued to talk and negotiate in broken English and broken Hungarian, her  “hús” (meat), “krumpli” (potatoes) and me “nem pénz” (in my poor Hungarian the words ‘no’ and ‘money’, though it should really be something like nincs pénz, but I’m learning). She shook her head at the Gyros place (fair enough), and we continued to the corner grocery store.

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