This Year

In the first week of March last year, I was on the convention committee running FOGcon, and we were watching the news trying to understand what it meant for our small local con, scheduled for March 6 to 8.

We decided not to cancel. That could have been a very, very bad call, but instead we were very, very lucky, and as far as we know, our convention wasn't responsible for any COVID spread. Some would-be attendees wisely stayed home. Those of us who were there made some nice memories to think of during the time ahead. Even a couple of days after the con, it began to seem horrifying that we had just gathered 150 people together in basement conference rooms. But while we were gathering, the average person didn't yet know we were dealing with an airborne virus that had already spread widely, often through asymptomatic carriers.

This past weekend, the FOGcon committee presented a small set of virtual events to let our community reconnect. Chatting in a Zoom breakout room was of course different than hanging out in the hospitality suite or lobby. But there was also a pleasant familiarity in sharing thoughts and catching up with a group of people I've known for years, but only in this limited, con-going way. It was a lot of fun, and I'm glad we were able to make it happen.

During this long year, and especially this longest winter, I have been among those with the most privilege in every possible way. I've been in a position to comfortably go nowhere since November, but I also haven't been stuck inside, because I've been able to get out for neighborhood walks almost every day of the mild California winter.

Things are starting to change for the better in the US, though global trends are troubling. My parents and other older relatives are vaccinated, and every day I hear about more friends getting their shots. It's not my turn yet, but I don't mind waiting. I'm venturing back into the world in a limited way for routine checkups next week, talking about meeting up with friends outside, having hopeful discussions about family travel possibilities later in the year.

This year-old pandemic is not over, and some of the uncertainty of last March still remains. My optimism is uncertain, too, but it's been growing.

Good Stuff Out There:

→ At Electric Lit, Rachel Mans McKenny considers Why New Fiction Is Making Mothers into Monsters: "What I appreciate about these literary works is that there is no enfant terrible, no possessed child. It is not the child's fault that society has gutted or failed to implement systems to help caretakers. It is not the child's fault that the default caretaker in a heterosexual relationship is presumed to be the mother. In these stories, the children are just children. The mothers are eely, and their characters reveal the holes that mothers are allowed to fall through: holes in mental health care and child care and sexual satisfaction. The system is untenable, and mothers cannot continue to live this way."