matching tracksuits

fun in threes, sometimes fours

around the house

Day 27: Holy Saturday 2020

For everyone in the local Polish community, Holy Saturday has meant one thing: a visible continuation of traditions from the Old Country -- the blessing of the Easter baskets. When we began the tradition, the parish pastor had no idea what it was. He quickly learned and just as quickly fell in love with the tradition.

This year, then, was the first Holy Saturday in a decade that we didn't have a basket blessing here in Greenville. In some ways, that made Holy Saturday wholly different. But some things were the same.

That tree in the front yard that I wanted to cut down yesterday? It's now gone, along with my back.

More similarities: there was baking, baking, baking. For whom? For our family. For friends. For our neighbors. For anyone who wanted it, I guess. The difference? The Girl was involved -- not just involved, but insisting on seeing the whole process through to the end alone. Well, almost alone -- moving it to the cake stand was a bit too scary for her.

What else was the same? The kitchen was a disaster area for most of the day.

An artist at work always leaves behind a mess. And one of our culinary artists is better at cleaning up the mess she leaves behind than the other, and I'm much more likely to jump in and help clean with one of the artists than I am with the other. Lessons to learn.

Previous Years

Basket Blessing 2019

Basket Blessing 2018

Baskets 2015

Blessing the Baskets

Day 26: Good Friday

Good Friday is always a work-filled day among Poles, which I've always found somewhat ironic. In some ways, it's the most solemn day of the Catholic calendar, and you would think that devout Catholics -- of which in Poland, particularly rural Poland -- would spend the day in prayer. In my experience, they usually spend the day cleaning and cooking (often things they don't eat because it's a fast day, though Catholic fasting is hardly a discipline compared to some forms of fasting).

Today's job for me: take care of the leaves in the backyard. "After all, it is April," K smiled at breakfast. I wanted to cut down a topiary tree in the front yard that we've decided is dying and needs to come down. I've wanted to take it down for years, but I guess that's for tomorrow.

Day 20 in Two Parts: A View of the Day and a Rant

Part 1: The Day

Our weed eater -- I think that's a brand name but I could be wrong -- has been broken for some time. How long? Embarrassingly so. Today, we finally got a replacement, but we didn't get as sturdy a model as might be expected. The reason? Turning things over to the Boy.

A battery-powered, small trimmer that E can handle. His reaction? "I love, love, love this!" He's going to want to trim every day.

Part 2: Will This Change Anything?

K and I were talking a few nights ago about how this whole tragedy perhaps could have been significantly lessened if our inept president weren't the egomaniacal narcissist that he is when our talk turned to how this might affect the country. K suggested that it would be a turning point, that the fact that America -- the most powerful country in the world, the richest country in the world, the superlative-in-every-sense country in the world -- was brought to its knees like this will necessitate some change, a whole new way of looking at things.

I disagree.

What I fear is that instead of turning this country's populace into a science-first, technology-led country where politics and religion take a backseat to what science says (and if this were the case now, we might not be in the situation we're in), it will only reinforce the same backward thinking that continues to threaten us now. Instead of seeing it as a science problem, they'll see it as a religious problem. "God took his protection away from us because of X, Y, and Z" -- fill in your favorite liberal boogieman.

We really don't have to wait for that -- it's already happening. The amount of religious stupidity coming out of this is just mindblowing. Stuff like this.

One would think that given the evidence, anti-vaxxers would be shutting up about now:

The person credited with saving the most lives ever is Edward Jenner, inventor of the smallpox vaccine. The disease had a much higher mortality rate than the novel coronavirus that is confining many people to their homes right now; about 80% of children and 60% of adults who contracted smallpox died of it. In the 20th century alone, it killed more than 300 million people before the vaccine eradicated it worldwide in 1979.

The polio vaccine is estimated to have saved 10 million people from paralysis just since 1988, and prevented 500,000 deaths, according to the World Health Organization. A global vaccination campaign for measles that began in 2000 prevented an estimated 23 million deaths by 2018, the organization reported. (LA Times)

One would think -- but then again...

And this old nonsense about Bill Gates ushering in the apocalypse. (Money says he's using a Windows computer here...)

And people trying to call judgment down on a virus as if it's an incorrigible child.

And when you mix in bat-feces crazy like Alex Jones and people who take him seriously, well...

When you see everything -- everything -- as part of some conspiracy that was foretold in a book written by Bronze Age soothsayers,  no amount of science, logic, or critical thinking can penetrate your worldview.

It's not just a pessimistic sense that there's a problem: there's quantifiable data to show there's a problem. Google has begun compiling reports on the changes in people's mobility during this time.

As global communities respond to COVID-19, we've heard from public health officials that the same type of aggregated, anonymized insights we use in products such as Google Maps could be helpful as they make critical decisions to combat COVID-19.

These Community Mobility Reports aim to provide insights into what has changed in response to policies aimed at combating COVID-19. The reports chart movement trends over time by geography, across different categories of places such as retail and recreation, groceries and pharmacies, parks, transit stations, workplaces, and residential.

What do the data show? Well, as a disclaimer, Google warns about doing what I'm just about to do:

Location accuracy and the understanding of categorized places varies from region to region, so  we don’t recommend using this data to compare changes between countries, or between regions with different characteristics (e.g. rural versus urban areas).

Still, data from three locations show the vast difference in national and local response.

Here's the data from our county:

Now, we made the news recently as being the most mobile county in the nation during this time, so our stubborn little county is an outlier, but it's where I live, so it's the data I'll use.

And here's the data from the administrative district in Poland where K grew up, where Babcia still lives, and where I spent seven years:

A randomly selected district in Italy.

Are these two countries faring better than America? I suppose in raw numbers, they are. The long term picture looks better there. Why? Because they don't have people going around saying, "I'm covered in the blood of Jesus -- I'm saved and safe" like we do here.

Of course, in Poland, some bishops and priests are desperately trying to get churches reopened on some kind of limited basis, but even there, they understand the risk and want to have limited attendance. These bloody American Evangelicals -- i.e., "covered in the blood of Jesus," which is itself a disturbing image, but the second, British meaning of "bloody" works as well -- want to have full, regular church services. The data makes their claims a little spurious, though:

And it's not as if this virus is enough: we as a species can't even go through this without some people turning it into a hell on Earth for those who are stuck with them:

In Hubei province, the heart of the initial coronavirus outbreak, domestic violence reports to police more than tripled in one county alone during the lockdown in February, from 47 last year to 162 this year, activists told local media.

“The epidemic has had a huge impact on domestic violence,” Wan Fei, a retired police officer who founded a charity campaigning against abuse, told Sixth Tone website. “According to our statistics, 90% of the causes of violence [in this period] are related to the Covid-19 epidemic.”

It is a pattern being repeated globally. In Brazil a state-run drop-in centre has already seen a surge in cases it attributes to coronavirus isolation, the Brazilian broadcaster Globo said.

“We think there has been a rise of 40% or 50%, and there was already really big demand,” said Adriana Mello, a Rio de Janeiro judge specialising in domestic violence. “We need to stay calm in order to tackle this difficulty we are now facing.” (Lockdowns around the world bring rise in domestic violence in the Guardian)

The virus is always teaching me something new:

The increased threat to women and children was a predictable side effect of the coronavirus lockdowns, said activists. Increased abuse is a pattern repeated in many emergencies, whether conflict, economic crisis or during disease outbreaks, although the quarantine rules pose a particularly grave challenge.

Predictable for some, that is. I hadn't even thought of this -- that's how privileged I am.

So, no, I don't think anything will change. At all.

Day 13: Landscaping

A house is a never-ending project, inside and out. There's always something to fix, move, repaint, replant, shorten, lengthen, reinforce, replace, recalibrate, nail, screw, fasten, dig, hoe, spread, gather, clean, spray, scrub, feed, kill, water, or simply do. Our yard has been part of this ever-growing project, with a couple of landscaping elements that weren't even there when we moved in and some that were there long gone, and some that we put in ourselves also long gone.

Our driveway planter has now grown and joined the original planter in the front yard that has changed very little since we moved in.

It also grew at the road end as well: the elderberries that were languishing in the backyard are now in the front yard, and we can't just plant elderberries in the yard and be done with it...

Day 10, Part 2: Blooms and Games

Tuesday Evening

Finishing Basement

We woke to foggy weather. In Lipnica, that always meant a gloriously sunny afternoon. Here -- I'm not so sure. It stayed cloudy most of the morning before turning sunny.

It might mean sleepiness if it's Sunday. Everyone was tired this morning: L because she's a thirteen-year-old; E because he's sick; K and I because that's how we normally wake up.

Or it might mean more work in the basement.

And then snow

They say weather in South Carolina is ridiculously unpredictable. It can be forty degrees colder today than it was yesterday; it can go from cloudless to monsoons to cloudless in no time; it can rain today and snow tomorrow.

We've had weather like that the last few days.

Thursday we flooded; Friday was cloudless and windy; today, it snowed.

I first noticed the smallest of flakes when I came up from the basement where I've been sealing holes drilled years ago for termite treatment and sealed only with about an eighth of an inch of concrete: I can push through with my finger, it turns out. Yesterday and today I patched 21 such holes, and it's a time-consuming process: each hole has a cavity under it from erosion (I guess), and it takes an unbelievable amount of hydraulic cement to patch each hole.

"Ohe thing about a flood like that is that it will show you your weaknesses," said my neighbor. And one weakness exposed: a crack in the slab beside the fireplace. Water was pouring in through that crack Thursday -- probably about a gallon a minute at its worst.

So after an hour or so of drilling and chiseling this evening, I finished the last bit of patching. Until I remembered one more wall in the other room that I hadn't checked. A quick check revealed what I knew was the case: still more holes...

And of course, I didn't finish the crack...

The Flood of 2020: Aftermath

Today we got to see what the county looked like while the rain poured yesterday. It was pretty much as you might expect.

We also go to see what damage the food did to our backyard. It was pretty much as you might expect.

I was on my way to school when K called to say that school had in fact been canceled, so returning, I stopped by our favorite park to see how the dam looked. It was pretty much as you might expect.

Finally, I searched for video footage of what people were experiencing in the county and Google delivered to me a couple of videos of what people have done in previous floods in the area.

It was pretty much as you might expect.

The Flood of 2020

We knew the storm was coming: the forecast for our area was around two inches. "That's enough to flood our basement if it comes fast enough," I thought.

When I left for work, it wasn't raining; when I got to work, it was. Still, I thought we might be able to squeak through without much harm.

K took L to the doctor in the morning and then went back to the house before heading to work. She texted me at 10:36: "I'm back home. I am working from home today. It looks pretty bad. I'm going to keep an eye on the basement."

At 10:42, she sent me another text: "I just saw the sump pump turn on and pump out a little bit of water. There is a little water under the plastic [vapor barrier in the crawl space]. It doesn't look good for today."

She sent me a picture a minute later:

"Oh, there's no way we're going to escape a flooded basement," I thought. Still, it's usually no big deal: we work for a couple of hours with a shop-vac and everything's fine.

"Those hammocks will get destroyed," I replied. Then ten minutes later at 10:54, I text: "Can you see water going into the pump basin? A trickle from the basement side perhaps?"

At 11:04 she sent me another picture.

And then two minutes later, at 11:06, the next text from K: "The basement is flooding."

The trouble was, I couldn't just dash away. We at school were having our own adventure: not a drill but an actual shelter-in-place reality. Three hundred eighth graders huddled against the wall in the corridor for almost forty minutes.

At 11:25, I texted our neighbor: "You guys flooding?"

"Creeks are bad...house is fine," he responded. With pictures.

"K said we're flooding," I texted. "I'm stuck here because we're in a tornado lockdown."

"Want me to go help her?" he immediately replied. And that, ladies and gentlemen, would be exhibit 344,038 for the argument that he is the best neighbor one could have.

Finally, when we had everything under control at the school and the kids fed and watered, I got a text from K at 12:35: "I have been pumping for an hour and a half now. G[, our neighbor,] is here to help. I think you should come home as soon as possible. The rain is not going to stop and water is coming in like through a faucet."

I went to the cafeteria and found the eighth-grade administrator. "My wife just said that our basement is flooding. I'm heading home. Someone's going to have to cover my last three classes."

"Go," he said.

I went to the front office, where the sixth-grade administrator was talking to the receptionist. "My wife just said that our basement is flooding," I began. "And you need coverage," the receptionist said. "On it."

"Go," said both the administrator and receptionist.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, along with the calm way they implemented the tornado shelter-in-place lockdown would be exhibit 344,038 for the argument that our school faculty knows how to work an emergency.

"Water is coming through the termite treatment holes," K texted me on the way home. A few years I'd dug out the "filler compound" with which whoever did that patched the wholes. The material crumbled under the lightest touch of a screwdriver blade. I had cleaned out all the holes on the out-facing walls and patched them. "Guess I didn't do a good job," it thought, stopping at the hardware store on the way home to buy some rubber plugs for the holes.

But this water was coming from holes in the inner basement walls -- where I hadn't touched any of the holes. "What can possibly happen here?" I thought.

A lot.

The water was jetting out of the holes, making little fountains just about two to three inches high -- that's how much hydrostatic pressure had built up under our house. We plugged the holes, moved some shelves and found more fountains, plugged those, and vacuumed. And vacuumed. And vacuumed. And vacuumed. And vacuumed.

It was a first: both rooms of our half-basement were flooding. And so we vacuumed. And vacuumed. And vacuumed. And vacuumed.

K went to get the kids. I stayed behind and vacuumed. And vacuumed. And vacuumed. And vacuumed. And vacuumed. And vacuumed.

We finally got everything under control around dinner time. At 5:48, I texted our selfless neighbor, "I can only just now say that I think we've got both rooms completely under control."

And now, at 9:46, I hear the sump pump kick in for about the tenth time since I began writing this, so I guess it's about time to head downstairs and see if it's flooding again -- it's not supposed to stop raining until after midnight...

But we're not the only ones on our street, or even the worst off. And this flood seems to have enveloped much of the South itself.

At one point in the evening, shortly after dinner, the power flicked off and stayed disconnected for a good fifteen seconds -- long enough that I'd started running options through my head. When the lights came back on, K and I looked at each other, thinking about all the reports of downed trees and power lines, realizing just how much worse it could have been.

We had it worse than we've ever had it, but we could have had it worse still.

Previous Floods

Flood 2018

Water

Flood 2014

Flood