St. Pats. Pervasive holiday and he wasn't even Irish. I was on conf calls this morning and people had shamrock wall papers to their video screens and big green sweaters on. I certainly didn’t think to put any colors on. Back in Beijing we’d often go out to the Irish Ball that was a big event during the year and we’d fill a table of friends and clients and consider the sudden, odd density of Irish faces. As been said mantra-like during the pandemic: “this year was totally different, of course.”
Outside there was a light dusting of snow. I went down to our outer garage which smelled of old cardboard and filled up a cut gallon of milk with seeds. It’s cold out here. There’s no sun yet. It’s cold for the team too.
Someone remembered to ping my nephew to announce “Happy Birthday.” Is today really his day? Oh boy. I vaguely remembered that, that it was the same as St. Pats. It took a while to realize they didn’t use wechat much and I left a few voice mails. But wasn’t able to connect with him on his big day. I sent books and music, only to remember that one of the books had been sent a while back, so I got another.
Eight people murdered in Atlanta. Six of them are Asian. The suspect couldn’t control his sexual addiction, he suggested. So he killed eight people, to rid them as distractions to his world. What a wretched and unfair enconter for all those six people. It is on the one hand important to speak out about the anti-Asian pattern this appears to fit. At the same time, the media coverage seems to be fanning the flames.
Thursday, 03/17/21
No comments:
Post a Comment