The Annunciation
by Merode
Every day, lately, individuals are standing up and announcing who they are and who they serve. These are fractious times, with tumult, political infighting and disputes in government, on the one hand, and a dangerous, never before seen pandemic virus on the other.
Leading us is an insane, unstable despot, which is no "leadership" at all. What we choose now comes entirely from our natural stores of energy, spiritual wisdom and discretion. We do not have a shining example, or a light on The Hill.
Some people chose the way of selfishness by running to the store and sweeping all the shelves clean of essential products necessary to basic survival. Water. Toilet Paper. Frozen food. Hand sanitizer. They took more than they needed so that the rest of us would have none, thus exacerbating an already frightening situation.
About a week ago, I went on the hunt for canned food and frozen vegetables. First, I went to my neighborhood Walgreens, and discovered that the food shelves were completely empty. It was as if giant locusts had swept through the place. I was able to buy some over-the-counter medicines I needed, some cleaning supplies and a tin of cookies, but when I checked out, I discovered that Walgreens had attached very tall pipes to each shopping cart so that I was not able to get my purchases to my car. I asked the checkout clerk how I was supposed to get all the bags to the car.
She just looked at me and said, "You can't take the carts out of the store
any more," as if that response answered my question.
"Everywhere I go, no one cares about the disabled old people," I announced. Two clerks looked at me, slack-jawed and unresponsive.
Despairing of getting some help, Juggling my purse, my cane, my hat, my sunglasses, and 2 bags of miscellaneous non-food items, I hobbled to the car. I still needed canned foods and frozen vegetables. I was already exhausted, and the throbbing pain in my legs and hips was making its opinion known.
Less than a mile from that Walgreens is a Lowes neighborhood grocery. It is a small store, much easier to navigate than the large supermarkets that proliferate in this town, but you pay for it with very high prices and ancient expiration dates.
I asked the clerk working in the canned food aisle to notify the manager of the grime that was caked on top of the cans of corned beef hash. I was hoping they may have had some cans that didn't look like they were leftover from WWII. She mumbled a word salad of completely unrelated concepts and did nothing. Even when I nudged her about getting the manager for me, she burbled another word salad and made no move to get him.
Completely grossed out by the disgusting sediment on top of the cans, but realizing I could wash them and that I should not be so delicate, I gingerly put a supply of canned beans in my cart and prayed that the dirt wasn't some sort of contagion. The prices were shockingly high.
Standing in front of the cashier, I pointed to my cane and asked her if she would please pack the bags lightly because of my bad back and knees.
Incredibly, the woman said to me, "I am going to bag them to the top. If you want something different, you can do it yourself." Then she pushed the cans toward me and started barking orders at me, making clear her wish that I should hurry up, shut up and bag my own damn groceries. I was a bit stunned. This is not the typical response one gets in grocery stores.
When I am surprised by some sort of mistreatment, I tend to go quiet - which is not my usual personality, which is rather more bubbly and animated. But if I am shocked or upset, I don't want to emote anger into the scene. I slow down and consider the situation and my options.
The checker realized I was not obeying her commands and said, "you understand what I am saying, right?"
Quickly, I calculated the angle I would have to bend over the round carousel that used to hold a series of plastic bags. I would have to bend over it, and lift cans into a bag on the other side and then lift that bag from the counter, over the carousel, and down into the shopping cart. I realized that I physically could not do it.
Rather than try to make this woman understand the situation when she was obviously not in the mood to be the slightest bit sympathetic, I quietly answered her question by saying, "Yes, I understand exactly what you mean," whereupon I turned and walked out of the store, leaving all those dirty cans on the counter. I got into my car and headed toward another store, my pain level rising. I hoped it would subside during the ride in the car.
The next store was Sprouts, a medium-size health food store on Lomas Blvd. I noticed that there were none of the sales that they typically have and, while there was a supply of fresh vegetables, they had NO frozen veg, except one forlorn bag of corn that was suspiciously mushy. I wondered if it had been defrosted and refrozen, but decided to buy it anyway. There was a pile of 4 bags of okra. Unless you fry the heck out of it so that the texture is no longer gelatinous, okra makes me gag, so I left the okra in the freezer for the next brave soul.
Several Sprouts employees were unpacking food into the refrigerated sections. I asked three of them if they had any frozen vegetables. They each refused to help me in any way. There were frozen vegetables on the pallet, but the clerks weren't going to search for them. I took my pathetic little overpriced 2-cup bag of corn, a few cans of plain beans, and some fresh broccoli and checked out, somewhat depressed and in a huge amount of pain.
I had gone shopping for frozen vegetables and canned goods and, because of the hoarders, was not able to find these simple items at any of the stores! I had already surpassed my pain limit and was suffering too much to continue searching.
The next day, one of my neighbors flew down from the second floor to speak to me. He'd seen me with my dog near the mailboxes. He wanted to make sure and exchange telephone numbers, in case I needed anything during the social isolation period of the pandemic. Another neighbor also offered assistance. A friend from a church I used to attend has arranged to get me some frozen vegetables and will get them to me on Friday - probably about the same time I run out of the fresh ones I purchased at the health food store. A couple people from Facebook have responded to my Amazon wish list and are sending me emergency food items.
Other neighbors make a different choice. Yesterday afternoon, I happened to see a neighbor on the second floor step out onto her patio and, open mouthed with no effort to cover it, make a huge sneeze that she directed down onto all our mailboxes. This morning, the sidewalk beneath that patio is heavily littered with sunflower seed hulls that have been chewed and spat out.
It seems to me that everyone is announcing who they are every day, in their actions and their words, and it is in this atmosphere of emergency and dangerous contagion that these actions and words are highlighted, more significant, and of greater consequence than is customary.
Today is the Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord. The Angel Gabriel comes to Mary and tells her that she will bear the Christ Child, and she says yes to God's call. She will sacrifice herself for the sake of mankind, by bearing Him into the world. Her selflessness and surrender to the will of The Divine for the sake of mankind, earning profound gratitude through the ages, is an example for those whose typical reaction to the misery of the world is selfishness and self-dealing.
When we emerge on the other side of this epidemic, I believe we will have been changed by the experience, and we will know one another in a more compelling manner than we did before the Covid virus entered the scene in the middle of the Traumatic Trump times.
Until then, we all have to try and survive, as best we can. Even Amazon is being cleaned out of food supplies and every time I add something to my emergency wish list, it is a matter of days or even mere hours before their stock is depleted and there is a message next to it that Amazon does not know when or if they will get more. Even so, I will, once again, post the link to that wish list and hope that some of the basic items will eventually make their way to me in enough quantity that I can share with the other isolated, single disabled ladies who live in this apartment complex.
Thank you for helping us get through this dangerous situation.
Find my Amazon wish list HERE
I encourage you to take care of yourself and one another as best you can and to use this unexpected retreat from social life as an opportunity, of sorts,to grow closer to the Lord. He is the only one who can't give you the virus or catch it Himself, so spend some time with Him!
God save us.
Silver Rose
