What is “normal” these days? To me, “normal” feels like a train wreck occurring in front of me. I stand helpless, my eyes glued to the track while I watch the two engines barrel toward each other, brakes screaming. Chaos abounds in our government, our healthcare, our citizenry, and everywhere in our daily lives.
I attempted to watch the first U.S. presidential debate, but I had to turn off the television after only a few minutes. These are the people who are supposed to lead us out of the darkness. They are the ones who should formulate a comprehensive response to this pandemic to lessen its impact both physically and economically. Instead, they fought like children for ninety minutes, leaving me, and I’m sure many others, bewildered, confused, and frightened. Will our country survive this dark time in our history?
I am lucky to live in the wilderness, and I haven’t been to town since early March, so I’ve missed day-to-day issues of masks and social distancing. Instead, I’ve watched from afar, moving from fascinated to concerned to alarmed.
My selfish new normal might mean no vacation this winter, and I don’t mind. This summer, my husband, Mike, finished building my office/workshop, and I love it. It is a great place to write and research new ideas for posts and newsletters. Mike even enclosed a small, closet-like space and sound-proofed it to make me a podcast studio. This is the video of my she-shed, as we laughingly call it. https://vimeo.com/426004653.
Many of our guests canceled their reservations this summer, and most have rebooked for next year or the following year. Losing half of our season was tough, but I spent the extra time to work on my Kodiak wildlife book. I found an excellent editor, and we labored over every detail of formatting, sentence structure, and clarity. I knew editing this book would require a great deal of work, and it did, but I now have a clean manuscript. Next, I will work on photo placement, and then I will put the project on a thumb drive and mail it to my publisher. I hope to have the published book by early 2021. I am excited!
I’ve spent too much time watching the news this year, and of course, the pandemic and political climate have provided much fodder for future novel plots. Unfortunately, though, this new normal has distracted my creativity, and I’ve struggled to keep up with my writing schedule. In late November, once we close our lodge for the year, I hope to focus and increase my productivity.
I plan to write blog posts about a few more marine invertebrates, including sea cucumbers, urchins, clams, and mussels. Many of my posts originate from questions our guests ask me. When I can’t fully answer a question, I decide to research the organism and write about it. This summer, we caught several skates and way too many dogfish sharks. You will soon see a post about both skates and dogfish. I am especially curious about the dogfish and wonder what hole in the marine community they have rushed in to fill. Was this year an anomaly or the beginning of a worrisome trend? Unfortunately, the environment is also skewing toward a new normal.
A COVID vaccine might not return us to what we once considered normal, and I hope it doesn’t. I want to think we will emerge from this crisis wiser and kinder, but what I see now does not paint an optimistic portrait. If we do return to our old normal, I hope, at least, we will not take it for granted. If nothing else, we should learn that it only takes a tiny virus to destroy normal.
Robin Barefield is the author of four Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter, and Karluk Bones. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska, and listen to her podcast, Murder
