Ending 2020

I'm going to do my usual New Year's posts over the next week or so -- one about all the books I read in 2020, one with my New Year's resolutions. But I thought I'd write one more post today, before 2020 ends.

Like most people, we have planned nothing for New Year's Eve (unlike some people, we never do). We may watch a movie, play a game, eat chips & dip and fudge, drink sparkling cider. The kids will try to stay up until midnight -- last year Kid A succeeded, Kid B failed. Maybe I'll work on my new calendars, filling in birthdays and all that. Maybe I'll start drafting my resolutions. Like most people, I have an intense desire to welcome in 2021, say BYE, FELICIA to 2020.

I had a little epiphany this holiday season, while studying the array of Christmas cards on our piano. I admit that during the past year I've had more than a few moments where I wondered what my purpose was, what most people's purpose was. Somehow this question seemed particularly nagging during the pandemic year, with everyone shut up inside, although my lack of a job probably also contributed. (My purpose was taking care of the twins -- but what was the twins' purpose?) It was as though I could understand what everyone's purpose was as long as we could run around living our normal lives. But all shut up in houses and apartments -- who would care if a bunch of us just vanished? why would it matter at all?

The answer to this came to me along with the Christmas cards. We heard from a lot of people this year, more than we usually do. We usually send out about 50 cards and expect to get back maybe half that many. But this year, so far, we've heard from almost 75% of the people we sent to. They weren't all physical cards: there were e-cards, emails, phone calls, and texts (all those count as "cards" in my book). Each "card" I received was a pleasure. It also gave me a sense of relief -- oh, good, so-and-so is still with us. Many of the cards mentioned the senders' family members, some of whom I've never met, and I was very glad to read that Steve's father survived covid and Jeanne's daughter and family are safe in Seattle.

And I also worried about the people who didn't make an appearance. There are a few people I always hear from, who I didn't hear from this year. Was it covid? Are they struggling in some way? My older sister and I are jointly worried about a cousin neither of us heard from this year. I haven't seen this cousin in about 30 years, but she always sends a Christmas newsletter, so now I'm worried.

I realized -- yes, we're finally getting to that epiphany -- that we're all connected with these little links and that these links are important. I may feel like I have few close friends anymore, that I'm too fat for anybody to like me, that I'm more of a problem than a joy to my family -- but this is mostly a lot of nonsense. I'm a link in a lot of other people's chains, and if I vanished, I would upset a lot of people's lives. As would everyone else, if they vanished. That's the lesson of 2020: how important we are to each other, in these funny little ways, even if we're boring or fat or annoying. Even the hermits among us desperately need connection with other human beings, even if that connection is very, very slight, just a tiny link in the chain.

2020 was undoubtedly a terrible, horrible year (with bright spots, like a certain Presidential election). But for me it was also the year I dove deep into Black literature and learned so much about the Black experience in America. I believe that the knowledge I gained this year has changed my life. Seriously! So it has felt really good to continue my week of giving to the Black community. Here is what I did for Kwanzaa days 3-7:

Day 3 (Dec. 28) was Ujima, or "Collective Work and Responsibility," i.e., "build and take care of our communities." For this I donated $50 to Mission St. Louis, an organization that helps people find jobs, helps them fix up their houses, helps kids go to school, etc. And it has a very high rating on Charity Navigator. Day 4 was Ujamaa, or "Cooperative Economics." For this day I decided to patronize black-owned businesses, but since there aren't many in Boulder, I ordered from two Etsy stores. I bought three bookmarks from KLigg and a pair of earrings from ElleBrands. Both are already in the mail and I am eagerly awaiting them.

Day 5 (Dec. 30) was Nia, or "Purpose." I wanted to do something to help kids who are struggling during the school shutdowns, but I had trouble finding the right group. Finally I just gave $25 to the Obama Foundation. I wanted to direct the money to their My Brother's Keeper Alliance, which helps young men of color, but I'm not sure that's where it went. For Day 6, Kuumba, or "Creativity," I bought books by Black authors at the (independent) Boulder Bookstore. First, I bought a boxed set of N. K. Jemisin's Broken Earth trilogy, which has been recommended to me multiple times, most recently in a Christmas card! I also bought Kindred by Octavia E. Butler, and A Handful of Earth, A Handful of Sky: The World of Octavia E. Butler by Lynell George. I'm not much of a fantasy/science fiction fan, but all these books sounded interesting to me. 

Finally, tomorrow is Day 7, Imani, or "Faith," i.e., "strive to believe with all our hearts in the worth of African Americans." I looked at a lot of different organizations, trying to choose one, and finally ended up giving $25 to the Southern Poverty Law Center, an organization I admire, even though I'm not sure if it really fits the theme. I gave the money already, even though Imani is tomorrow, because they said that donations made through December 31st would be matched.

When Rocket Boy and I were out and about yesterday, at one point I saw myself in a mirror and noticed how worn my coat is. (It also is too small for me, which is another story.) I thought, I could have used all these various donations to buy a new coat. (Maybe. It's hard to find anything that fits these days.) But a new coat wouldn't have been nearly as much fun. All these donations and purchases totaled a little over $250 (the books were expensive). It's really hardly anything (to us, these days). I'd like to give more in 2021, and throughout the year -- it's something I should work into our budget better. And it was very, very satisfying. An excellent way to end 2020, in my opinion.

Happy New Year!     Happy 2021!