Items
Date is exactly
2021-10-03
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2021-10-03
HIST30060: 3CR COMMUNITY RADIO
I am a radio presenter and producer and during the lockdowns in Naarm/Melbourne I had to learn how to remote record and broadcast my content. I found myself hushing my housemates in order to record hour-long content from my headphone mic, very solo and DIY. It felt good to be part of a greater community project, broadcasting punk, DIY, and political chat to our regular listeners through the lockdowns. -
2021-10-03
The Scents of a Homecoming
My maternal grandfather passed away late last year amidst a relatively heavy pandemic lockdown, and our family has since tried to fill in for him in caretaking for my grandmother. If he could have asked something of us, I know it would have only been to look after her. He was that kind of man. He didn’t need for anything for time with his family and friends, and his utmost concern was her welfare, even when she angered him. Recurring and cyclic apprehension and uncertainty over transmission rates, long-term vaccine efficacy and inoculated antibody generation have forestalled several attempted return trips to my hometown. Data-driven doubts have eroded my wife’s confidence that our collective vaccinations will protect her aging parents from life-altering illness and death have prevented her from traveling with me, even though she wont readily admit that outside our home. In addition to everything else the pandemic has altered or taken from us, it’s also complicated my family’s efforts to care for each other. My grandmother turned 86 recently, and her birthday was also their anniversary. They would have been married 63 years this month, and we wanted to make sure the day didn’t pass like any other lonely Tuesday since his death. My cousins and I put together a birthday dinner at the best restaurant in town, and I traveled back to New Mexico for a week to visit and help where I could. The trip turned out to inspire a self-reflection on the power of scent in my life, emotions, and memory. *** I drove straight to my grandmother’s home on Blodgett Street. I pushed the front door open, and an unpleasant stink hit my nostrils. Throughout my life, that home had particular smells that transitioned over time. Everyone in my family but the children smoked cigarettes while I was growing up, and it wasn’t unusual for a blue-gray haze to hang in my grandparents’ home during family holidays. It wasn’t uncommon for their 1000 sq. ft. home to sleep ten or fifteen people when we had something to celebrate or grieve. Ashtrays often overflowed if late night poker games grew too intense to step away from the dining table. I recall one Thanksgiving from my early childhood in which heavy cigarette smoke obscured my view of the backdoor while I stood near the front door. Even through those early years, I associated their home with the smell of sweets. Baked goods, chocolate cakes, snickerdoodles, and sugar cereals, although I’m now surprised any of us could smell anything. I never ate Fruity Pebbles anywhere but their house. Word reached my family in the mid 80s that hotboxing the house was bad for everyone’s health, and they began smoking outside. Grandad hated that; he’s the one who paid off the mortgage, so he oughta be able to smoke wherever he damned well pleased. Still, he took it outside for the grandkids. Since they stopped smoking in the house, and especially since they quit smoking fifteen years ago, I associated their home with a particular and pleasant fragrance. I never placed it, and I’ve never smelled it anywhere else. It wasn’t solely the scented wax my grandmother leaves on warming plates for too long, which are almost always homey food scents, like apple pie. The scent of their home welcomed me back to a place I am unconditionally loved, missed, and wanted. My jokes always hit, my cooking never failed, and everyone was always glad to see me. They were also glad to take my lunch money at the poker table, which I imagine might have contributed to my perpetual welcome. As of this trip, that unique aroma is gone, replaced by a light odor of stale animal waste. My grandmother took in a low functioning chihuahua about three years ago, and the dog is slowly and thoroughly ruining all the flooring surfaces in her home. It won’t housebreak, and it’s incapable of turning right. Seriously. The dog might be a reincarnated Nascar driver. It only turns left. When it’s excited, anxious, fearful, doesn’t matter. The only emotional arrow in its quiver is a left turn, and the only dichotomy is the circumference. The dog can run around the whole room or spin in place, but only and always left. Lefty shit on one of my most important and reassuring emotional stimulants. ** I also stayed with my parents, who live across town, and we share a love of food, especially comfort food best consumed with big spoons or served in casserole dishes. Because we’re New Mexicans, that means a heavy dose of Hatch green chili goes in everything produced in our kitchens. Throughout the week, my folks made all the staples for fall: red beef enchiladas, fire roasted salsa, smoked burgers, and green chili chicken stew. While I associated backed goods and sweets with my grandparents’ home, I’ve always associated the aroma of meals with my parents, and especially the foods that take a day or two to get just right in a crock or stockpot. Bubbling green chili anything reminds me of the best parts of my childhood, and I have no unfond memories or emotions associated with it. I never caught a beating over the dinner table, never fought over a kettle of green chili. Comfort foods have historically made all the hurt and misery of the outside world go away. That’s their magic, isn’t it? No matter what the day and the world brought to your doorstep, the right foods and aromas improved everything they touched. ** As such, the consistent and predictable wonderfulness of my parents’ home helped buttress my emotions and the loss of the Blodgett Street Scent. The disappearance of that emotional, olfactory experience altered my perception of the trip. I regarded its replacement as a bellwether of things to come, a foreshadowing of my grandmother’s seemingly imminent decline into managed in-home care. My concerns over what the light stink meant conspired with her increased hearing loss, the occasional repeated story, and the often-repeated questions to erode my confidence in her long-term stability. Although she’s now 86, she remains independent and self-sufficient. There’s nothing she can’t accomplish on her own with enough time and naps between exertion. I think I’ve taken that for granted, though, and I should begin managing my expectations. Thanks to a left-leaning chihuahua, I have to confront my grandmother’s increasing fragility and forthcoming dependence. I regret having never attempted to define its source ingredients, although I doubt I could recreate it at any other time or place. In the meantime, I need to get her out of the house long enough to have the flooring scrubbed and sanitized. If you’re in the market for a left-loving fecal factory, please inquire within. -
2021-10-03
Homage to My Best Friend
This is an image of my dog, Dobs – I’ve shared him before on this archive, but I just needed to share this image and justify as to why this dog is so important to me. When the pandemic began, I found myself more isolated than normal, as many people had; I barely spoke to my friends online, and began withdrawing into myself more and more with each day. I would have been completely alone. I don’t have much to say, but this is my best friend; he’s been here with me through some of the worst experiences I have faced during the pandemic, I won’t go into them too deeply, but I am just happy to have this dog in my life, his friendly nature and his funny faces really have had an impact on how I’ve been able to cope with so much. -
2021-10-03
The First Game Back and the Last Game of the Season
This was a photo from my seat at my first mariners game back since the beginning of Covid and the last game of a great season. IT was an emotional game because they lost their wildcard spot, it was probably Kyle Seager's last game as a mariner after 10 years, and it was my first time in the ballpark since 2019. It feels like we are getting back to normal even though I am still hesitant to jumping back in. -
2021-10-03
Losing is not losing
I believe we have all lost a lot during this last year. Loss of normalcy. Loss of community. Loss of family and friends. At the beginning I'm sure a lot of people thought the world was gonna end. And in a way it did. Our old world died as we are currently creating a new one. New babies are entering this world with a new chance. another chance to make the world a better place. Another chance to create a new world. They are seeing people for the first time. Yes we loss last year. But we also gained. As the poem states, the art of loosing isn't hard to master. -
2021-10-03
A Century Later
A look at a global pandemic from a 21st century American point of view, nearly a decade after the last pandemic of the world. -
2021-10-03
Ending High School at the Beginning of a Pandemic
All of the fun memories that are normally reminisced upon later were replaced with stories of disappointment. My last two months of high school were basically stolen from me. COVID-19 stole the fun events that I deserved and worked twelve hard years for. A time that should have been filled with excitement and fun-filled memories with friends turned into memories of disappointment and separation. Everything that I was looking forward to at the end of high school was canceled. There was no in-person school, all sporting events, senior trips, prom, and graduation were canceled. The world turned virtual. I spent my days attending classes through Zoom not being able to truly interact with my classmates. I missed going out to get lunch with my friends and walking down the hallways talking about how much homework we got. I could not leave my house until the day came where we had to wear masks and social distance. My “prom” consisted of taking pictures with my friend and eating dinner at home rather than dancing the night away. My final goodbye to my teachers consisted of a drive-by car parade where we decorated our cars and were cheered on from afar. My graduation turned into a silent, empty auditorium allowing one parent or guardian to record me walking across the stage and receiving my diploma. I was extremely jealous that my Class of 2019 friends, just the year before, got the opportunity to experience all of the things that I didn’t. As a junior, I assisted the senior dessert and I remember how excited I was to be able to participate in it for my senior year. The disillusionment hit me when my senior dessert was driving to Crumbl Cookies, grabbing my cookie, and going home. All of these activities should have happened in-person surrounded by the smiling faces I’ve spent four years seeing, but instead I got a pandemic.