Covid has finally entered my personal world, and it has chosen to attack its most vulnerable, most beloved. My parents have Covid. Mom is doing well, practically sailing through. Dad is in the hospital. [UPDATE: Shortly after writing this, Mom was rushed to the hospital after experiencing a seizure.] And…

When I started Pandemic Diaries last spring, our new state of being was so novel we couldn’t stop staring at it. I lapped up every story on Covid like it was condensed milk. I began to fear doorknobs. Grocery shopping and trips to CVS were now dangerous missions. Everyday life…

creativity in the time of covid Every year growing up my family went on vacation in Ocean City, Md. We have photographs upon photographs to prove it, the Galant family, lined up before a gray ocean, squinting into the sun. My father taught us to dive under big waves; we…

Looking back at March — I’ve kept journals for years, and sometimes drawn in them, but starting in February, after a trip to San Miguel de Allende, where I learned about the Urban Sketching movement, I started drawing and painting in my journals as a matter of course. Mostly, I sketched on little outings. The…

I haven’t written lately because nobody wants to hear my white, over-privileged opinions on race. So I’ve stepped back to shut up and listen. But Covid is back in the news, and I do have opinions, or maybe more like questions. There is this: in my circle, though we think…

Yesterday Warren and I took a walk to the iris garden. It’s at its peak, and now that we moved it’s walking distance. Warren suggested we go in the morning because otherwise I get caught up in email and painting and Zoom calls, and I don’t have the energy at…

I keep thinking of that lyric from Hamilton: How lucky we are to be alive right now. Even in the midst of a revolution. Even with everybody’s life on the line. Yes, the ante has been upped. As if the pandemic weren’t enough, another black man was killed needlessly, our…

Mothers Day with the Kiddos —

We were driving up to Garrett Mountain Reservation yesterday, a short hop from our new place, armed of course with masks and hand sanitizer. And as we approached Paterson, I felt a pang. I remembered the last time we’d been to Paterson, the day we’d visited Aunt Frieda together this…