Wednesday March 18, 2020
Don’t know what Covid is up today. Fuck that guy. Everyone says be afraid. Covid the bad ass. I say fuck that guy. Probably beating up some old people, loser. Hey, I’m Covid, I’m a bad ass and you know what I’m going to do, I’m going to stop kids at your daughter’s elementary school from learning to play in a band. No music for them! Oh is that right, Mr. no-nucleus I fart a billion of you? Gonna straighten that out today, son. And you know what else, guess what, I don’t even care what you’re doing. Yeah, I’m not even looking. Like the karate kid with his eyes blindfolded on the log while Mr. Miyagi is shouting balance. We got balance up in here right now, Covid. Oh you think you’re scary? Well guess what? People ADJUST. So suck on that.
Where do you think you are, anyway? Let me guess…you landed on what you think are some green pastoral shores where salmon frolic and we all drink lattes and eat vegan because we don’t want to hurt animals…right…right? Well there’s a whole lot more to the NW than that, bucko. Oh yeah. In Aberdeen not that long ago a bunch of kids turned their angst into music and stormed the world. A lot of angst in a place like Aberdeen, bro. And when the sunlight starts to shine a little this morning and I get texts from skaters saying they’re hitting the vert ramp and others are taking their kids to the park anyway and my wife and daughter are happy to have a chance to goof off…that’s nw pride up in here. You think we’re scared of you? Take a look at this. Mt. Baker. Back in the day. Doing that shit…for fun.
That’s right. You don’t know us at all, dummy who has to use our cells cuz he doesn’t have his own. What a bumper hanger on. Small ass tool who was just born. Baby covid. Little baby wants a bottle. Wants his mama. Doesn’t even have one.
Click boom bust, swing, a punch, I post this to facebook and it is on:
I fucking love people. People fucking rock. And when the shit hits the fan, you really start to see people fucking rock. What does that say about us, except that we rock? And you know, there are a lot of tools out there who probably wouldn’t want to be anywhere near Seattle. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. The shit’s hitting the fan run!
This is a beautiful place, filled with beautiful things, and a lot of cool people. But you know what else, here, now, with the shit hitting the fan, this is also a place that is more than just a place — it’s an opportunity, a chance, a moment to rock. When you’re up against it and Covid’s bringing it, you have an opportunity to do some things that matter. Now. Here. For real. And people are. Because people rock. And that’s fucking awesome.
There are numerous instances of this in the news. Someone in Cleveland left a 2,500 dollar tip to a restaurant that was closing. Canlis is selling burgers as a drive thru. Numerous businesses are finding ways to help each other and hopefully stay afloat.
And as for my daughter, and the impetus for this post, well she’s home from school right now. She loves the kids in her class. It’s a catholic school in the city. None of us are Catholic and in fact I’ve got issues with religion. But, it’s a wonderful community with great values and a real, live, warm sensibility to it that says we love your children as humans and want to help them be seen, heard, and seen as the human being they are. Fucking A. Let’s do this.
So, she’s been missing her friends. It’s lonely and it’s isolating. She’s worked hard to open up and make friends. This is her second school in three years, and this place is sticking, and she wants to keep it going. A lot of lonely kids out there, no doubt, who miss playing with each other. I’m sure she likes her parents (she tells us that she does), but we’re not other kids. As much as I goof around, it’s not the same…I’m bigger, and hairier, and smell weird, and can tell her not to do shit if it comes to that. So it’s different.
Well, what does the school do? Something that they don’t have to. They can be like, well shit, nothing to do. We’re fucked. Moving on. Send them a worksheet and be done with it. Nope. They find a program called zoom and they set it up so all the kids can log on, and then suddenly our apartment, where there’s not much except a few cats, a pa that needs a shower, and a ma at work in her room, fills with the noise of several 8 year-olds as my daughter’s computer screen morphs into the faces of third graders all talking at the same time. She gets to see that her buddies are all right, someone gets to talk about the gum they are chewing and what’s up with their hair while the teacher tries to read from a book.
School didn’t have to do that. But they did. Because people fucking rock. You might be reading this and be like, wow Brandon, they utilized a common app on a technical device, big deal…I face chat all the time…just face chatted with my colleague the other day, we got into a bit of a spat about…Look I don’t give a crap, pal. It’s a big deal, you dumb shit. The smallest gestures often rock the most.
I spent a lot of time on the NICU after my daughter was born. I was there for six weeks. She almost died. And one of the memories I have burned deepest in my brain is the memory of going to try to get something from the cafeteria our first night there. My daughter was intubated, unconscious, they were freezing her brain to keep swelling down, my wife had spent 50 hours in labor and was exhausted. We had a little tiny room the floor above our child big enough for a twin bed. We didn’t have any food. But they had given us some vouchers for a free meal. So I went to the cafeteria. Picked up yogurt, a banana, some sort of granola thing, and I think a cookie. Yeah, probably a cookie. Came to twenty bucks. Didn’t have it. Didn’t even bring my wallet. Those vouchers were good for like three bucks apiece. Fuck. That means across the walkway, up an elevator, down the hall, wake up my wife, look for the wallet, come back…
Then I hear a guy behind me say…
“No worries man, I got it.”
He’s also wearing a parent badge around his neck. He also looks like he hasn’t slept. He also is in wrinkled clothes and has that sort of tired, but determined look on his face — like he doesn’t want to miss a minute. Or a chance. A breath, a sigh, a smile, eyes opening, if even for a second.
“We’re all in this together, right.”
Yeah man. Yeah.
People fucking rock.
I left the NICU grateful to have my daughter with me and hoping to never, ever go back. My initial draft of this post ended with something like…well we’re all on the NICU now. But that’s not right. There is only one NICU in the world, and that is the place where you go to watch your child fight to survive. But there is a state of mind. There is an attitude that’s born in places like a NICU. And I see it coming out in Seattleites now. And I’m reminded again that this is a beautiful place filled with beautiful people.
And people fucking rock.
And you know what doesn’t rock. And isn’t a person. And doesn’t stand a chance.
Yeah, you know.
Fucking Covid. That non-nucleus, bully, bitch ass dummy who thinks he can walk onto these shores and set us all afire like nothing but the tissue he attacks.
Wrong town, buddy. Wrong town. You don’t stand a chance.