I released a new song today called “Verona”! It feels good to be creating again, my first time releasing music since I became a dad! All streaming links in comment below.
Bandcamp: click here
Spotify: click here
Apple Music: click here
Amazon Music: click here
Six-year-old artist Alton says he is now famous because he did the artwork. I reminded him more people saw his work on display at the Hands on Museum than my music channels. Note, I did pay Alton in Pokémon cards for copyright usage of his abstract work; always pay artists.
100 Years Ago, 100 Years From Now…
100 years later, we don’t gaze upon these photos of perforation with pride. We see, with clarity, those choices as misguided actions; however, we also pause, and look upon other questions:
100 years from now, what will our great grandchildren observe about our actions during this coronavirus pandemic? What will our time capsules of social media reveal about our nature? Did we protect ourselves and neighbor? Or did we pierce and puncture holes in safety, then publicly share and propagate? We all play a role in this group project.
I pray that future generations can feel pride in our next four to six months. They may applaud our miraculous, scientific speed as we vaccinate populations, but they will also note the miracles present in your daily sacrifices, your stamina, your conviction.
Our Place in the Universe this Holiday Season
Progress Reports: Recharge Our Mental Health
Happy Saturday! Alton is still sleeping, so Paw Patrol is on pause here in the Vial/Burg household; however, DJ Ginny is awake, and the song of the morning is Trolls 2, “Just Sing”. I guess this is better than the “Pup Pup Boogie,” right?
Today will be a perfect autumn day: The myriad of colors in the trees remind me that no matter how disappointing this pandemic can be, there are moments to make the best of it. Ginny and I will take our dog, Lois, for her first walk in two weeks. (She’s not out of the woods with her pneumonia and health complications, but we think she is ready for a walk in the park.)
What will you be doing today, for you? Friday revealed to me that I needed a major mental health recharge. Do you feel that way, too?
I need to drink at least one less cup of coffee, play one more hour of guitar, lace up my running shoes for short jog; read a few poems by Rupi Kaur or Billy Collins, and pick out some happy poems for our class next week; read the new best seller novel Dear Justyce (the sequel to Dear Martin); go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight; call a friend I haven’t seen in seven months; write a little bit in my notebook, whether it be a few lines of verse, lyrics, or prose.
Like above, write our your list of actions that you want to do. Then go make some time to do it.
We are in a group project to “live with the virus” and protect others during the pandemic. All must participate, but we also must focus on recharging before Monday.
And Monday, progress reports are due for teachers at Huron, but today is Saturday. Let’s make Saturday about mental health. The world is bigger.
Sincerely, Mr. Vial
For the Covid Longhaulers, a Plea to Refrain from Hosting Homecoming Parties
Ginny says, “Wear your masks! Keep my teacher safe.”
This is a plea, from a teacher finishing week five of mask-to-mask/hybrid teaching.
I’ve now heard another family plans to host another unofficial homecoming party, this time renting a hall, so I’m going to be really blunt here:
Oh, you still don’t know that term? That’s because they haven’t gotten enough attention.
Recently, I asked three adults, ones who weren’t wearing masks correctly or at all, if they had heard of longhaulers; none of them knew this growing crisis caused by Covid.
A longhauler is a person who contracts Coronavirus, and the Covid-19 symptoms don’t go away for two, four, six months. We still don’t know why.
*There are many longhaulers.*
Doctors didn’t believe these patients at first in April and May. They had to create their own support groups, often on Facebook. Epidemiologists are studying longhaulers now, since May.
Here’s the irony: The majority of long-haulers are women, between the ages of late thirties, early forties.
ASK YOURSELF, HOW MANY TEACHERS FIT THAT DEMOGRAPHIC. (Yes, I’m screaming that sentence.)
And more: These people were usually healthy and active before getting Coronavirus: Parents, runners, bikers, etc.
They now face long days and can’t live a normal life yet. Some days, they feel like they are getting better. They try to be a bit more active. They go for a longer walk. The next day, they can’t walk without being out of breathe. That’s just one common, longhauler symptom.
Science journalist, Ed Yong, from the Atlantic, has been reporting about it *since May.* I know three people–all musicians–who are long haulers.
When I hear about another family in a school district planning to rent a hall for an unofficial Homecoming party, I’m fearing my wife becoming a long-hauler. The last parties were attended, maskless. The photos are out there.
I’m doing what I can to protect you, my students, my staff. I bought a large room Honeywell HEPA Air Purifier for my classroom; I’m wearing an N95 mask to work now; I have not expanded my social bubble beyond my work circle; I haven’t seen a friend (beyond my colleagues) in SEVEN months; my parents have not seen their grandkids since August.
After teaching in an N95 mask all week, my face looks like a nurse after a shift at the ward. But I do it–because I mostly want to protect my wife from getting the virus.
Yet every party thrown is another chance that two weeks later, an entire classroom will be quarantined, even the school closed for a few days.
There are students barely getting by right now. I don’t want their routines disrupted. I don’t want them getting less sleep.
Please, parents, you need to be parents. We have to sacrifice now, so the physical school can continue tomorrow.
And lastly, adults, educate yourself during a pandemic. I’m posting The Atlantic article about longhaulers. Your homework is due Monday. If you didn’t do your homework because you hosted a party, late work isn’t accepted.
Don’t be a host, to the virus.
