A Slight Change in Plans

The pandemic has been a real pain in the plans

Every summer I have my two granddaughters with me for a few weeks. They live in Florida most of the time, and I like to think we all treasure our time together.

I know I do, anyway.

The pandemic has ended, ruined, and interrupted many lives, and not a day goes by when I don’t think about how lucky our clan has been to live in a relatively “safe” place, where fresh air is abundant and — at least during the summer — we basically live outside.

Somehow — even during the last three years — the girls have safely made their way north for their summer visit, and this year, one of the main attractions was a week at sleep away camp. They attended this same camp last year (which somehow safely opened and operated for an entire summer) and loved it. The camp itself is a beautiful old-fashioned lakeside gem.

[Last year’s cabin]

Our planning started in January — choosing which week to attend, communicating with the director, paying the tuition, and filling out a jumble of forms.

The week before camp, the girls and I poured over the packing list, running to Target for all of those last-minute items I knew they would never use, but … were on the list.

The list must be fulfilled.

Camp day finally arrived and we excitedly packed the car and drove the hour or so to the lake. Driving down the very steep road to the campsite, something felt … off.

It was quiet. Too quiet. I saw only one car headed in the other direction, and glancing into the car’s back seat, I saw a boy, sobbing. “Poor kid,” I thought. “He just dropped off a sibling and he’s sad.”

We were slowly driving past the cottage that serves as the camp’s administration office, when the director basically jumped out from behind a bush, waving his arms.

“Don’t get out of your vehicle!” he shouted.

He told us that the camp staff was having a serious outbreak of COVID; several had symptoms and testing that morning revealed that almost half of the camp’s staff tested positive.

Camp was canceled.

The drive back was pretty quiet. We stopped at a nearby ice cream shack and had a mid-day treat.

Back at home, we unpacked the car.

The kids seemed … basically fine. Me — not so much. For someone who is not very organized, I’m actually a planner. If I plan to do something, I do it.

The list must be fulfilled.

In addition to my eyebrow game and shiny hair, my reliability would be a defining characteristic.

But what happens when the most finely laid plans go awry?

We turned our unplanned week at home into our own camp. I taught the girls to knit.

[photo by Amy]

We invented crafts and projects that kept us busy. They carried the dog around even more than usual.

[Photo by Amy]

We played mini-golf, practiced driving on the ATV on rutted pastureland, went swimming and paddle boarding, and ate corn on the porch.

[photo by Amy]

Due to an unexpected event, the “Tooth Ferret” made a visit to the house.

I — who had arranged all of my professional and adult appointments to happen during the kids’ week away — fulfilled what commitments I could and canceled the rest.

My point is that — we did our best. We had a good time. But this isn’t only a “lemonade from lemons” story. The girls seemed quite un-phased! And that’s what makes me wonder. I will always be like that kid, crying in the backseat of the car — driving away from a canceled experience. But have my grandchildren just stopped assuming that things will ever happen the way they’re “supposed” to happen?

I’ve been reading articles about the impact of the pandemic on this generation of children. Most paint a very concerning picture: an increase in depression, anxiety, isolation — even lowered cognition.

Most articles and studies I’ve reviewed say it’s too soon to know the long-term impact, and so I’ll say this, anecdotally: Perhaps we are all being forced to learn to pivot.

For peppy-planning-people like me … This. Is. Hard.

On one level, I suspect that I will probably spend the next few years (figuratively) standing alone in an empty parking lot — glancing at my watch and waiting for the canceled event to begin.

I suppose it’s time for me to learn to be my own camp counselor.

DEPARTMENTS

Railey Jane Savage’s Junk Food: Stuff I Consume to Feel Better

Change of Plans in Real Life

Railey writes:

“I’m not great with making plans. My heart races as I run through scenarios in my head trying to anticipate how things might go with plans that will take me out of my routine-driven cocoon. Being caught off-guard or feeling unprepared are at the root of this deep, body worry, I think. Or, maybe it’s that I know I only have a certain amount of energy should things go sideways. This is irrational. I’ve got a management plan and things aren’t as debilitating as they might be, but still; this is my anxiety, and it’s exhausting.

I know that being able to venture out without a clear set of plans means accepting that the narrative is not set, and that the ending is TBD. But this is basically anathema for someone who watches the same things over and over to self-soothe.

I can’t figure out if this anxiety makes my fondness for stories with unconventional, meta elements make sense, or the opposite. But some of my favorites lean into winking at the fourth wall by nesting stories within stories, and shifting our responsibility as viewers. Think Adaptation, Mulholland Drive, Tampopo and Baron Munchausen. Or the movie that manages to subvert the medium through leveraging anxiety: Albert Brooks’ 1979 REAL LIFE.

There’s a lot going on in Brooks’ debut film. Watching it *gulp* 43 years after its release is an utter trip as it predicts the novelty, ubiquity, and ultimate disappointment of reality-driven programming. But Brooks shows the absurdity of trying to capture a triumphant narrative in real time without any direction; there’s no plan, and no parts of the venture work out. Sure, REAL LIFE is fiction, but it says something real.

Watching things go wrong in REAL LIFE, while being made complicit—Brooks talks to us/you/me through the camera—is equal parts funny and stressful. Having things go wrong in real life? Less funny. But watching Brooks prove that a little planning can go a long way feels like real life vindication.

Maybe I’ll make some plans. And maybe I’ll change them. Either way… I’ll have to think it through.” 

Railey Jane Savage is an Author, Artist, Etc. You can visit her work on www.raileyjane.com 

Laura Likes: Where my friend Laura recommends great things:

Laura writes:

If there's one thing I love, it's having a plan. Combine that with my longstanding delight in office supplies, quality paper goods, and stationery, and it makes sense that I am very much a calendar girl. There's something very satisfying about penciling something in on an actual, physical calendar. 

Don't get me wrong, digital planners are super-helpful and I use mine all the time, I just like having a tangible thing hanging on the wall or sitting on a desk. I can write down the thing I need to do. I can decisively X off the days, counting down...or I can passively watch the days slip by. I can keep the calendar at the end of the year. I can look back at everything I did. I can see all those things that I dreaded came and went with me none the worse for wear. I can remember how it felt as that appointment neared, as I bought the birthday present, as Christmas crept closer.

My grandmother was known for sending out birthday cards, and I remember the Holloway Drug Store calendar hanging on her refrigerator, just month after month of filled-in squares full of birthdays and ages...Laura (11). Karen (36). Paige (6). Scotty (14). Mamie (68). Byron (72). Capitola (83). Genevieve (91). Some months had a name on every single day.

I loved that calendar, replaced and re-filled every year like clockwork, 'til she died. I miss her. I miss that calendar and I miss the music of those names. 

I also like seeing what my friends choose as their preferred calendars. I have found this to be a reliable way to find out what people really love...dogs? The moon? Italy? Fishing? With calendars, people tend to choose something they really, truly like. It's a little minimally-intrusive way to learn something more about your friend while you're popping into their office, or hanging out in the kitchen.

Here's my kitchen calendar for this year -- I like these with John Burgoyne's drawings of food (you see his work regularly in Cook's Illustrated) and get one every year. 

Anyway, it's just a thing I do. It's handy, it's cute, it suits my kitchen, and at the end of the year, I have a keepsake.”

Laura Lorson makes her plans in Lawrence Kansas. You should follow her on Twitter: @prairielaura

Emily Mason’s Targeted Upsell: What the Internet Wants me to Buy

What’s New?

Emily writes:

“Thinking about plans has me thinking about…well, planners.  and I’m very much an analog gal in a digital world, but that’s ok, I adapt.

But… maybe I don’t have to. Now there’s Rocketbook’s Panda planner!

(Oooh, a…notebook!)

 Rocketbook’s series of notebooks supposedly work just like any notebook, with one exception. When you’ve filled it up, you can use a special cloth to wipe it clean and reuse it!! 

And best of all, you’ll never lose anything because you can upload everything on your planner to the cloud! 

Yep, all your various scribbles and appointments…up there where the sun don’t shine: The internet! 

Heaven forbid I forget the time I had to run to Costco for more paper towels in August 2022! Now it’s saved forever!

Why am I seeing this?

I like notebooks, I won’t apologize. Finally the internet is paying attention.

Did they sell me?

I’m not saying this is a bad idea, it’s not! This is not a bad idea! 

But… is it a bad idea for me?

The answer is oh yeah, it’s a terrible idea for me.

It’s not just that I don’t entirely trust cloud-based storage to keep track of important things (though I don’t, I mean where did my digital photos from 2005 go, huh cloud!?)

It’s also not just that $37 for a daily planner feels a bit steep, even if theoretically I can reuse it forever.

Really, it’s that… I don’t think I have thoughts profound enough to justify uploading them to a cloud. 

(My brain, constantly)

Seriously, a journey through the various notebooks that I currently use to keep track of things is like a pointless, slightly alarming archaeological dig. 

On a good day, maybe 25% of what I actually put down are coherent thoughts, the rest are wordle guesses, bad drawings of cats, and random lists to pass the time— one I came across recently just said “can I beat them up?” followed by the names of several disney princesses.

Yeah, I’ll spare the cloud my terrifying stream of consciousness, and keep my notes on old-school paper.

Emily Mason can be found doodling on the El in Chicago

• Thank you so much for reading!

• We love your “hearts” and read and enjoy all of your comments.

• This is a FREE newsletter — you could encourage others to subscribe by sharing it through your own networks.