1st day of spring, 6th day of isolation

What would you prefer: warm and drippy wet, or cold and sunny for your first calendar spring day?

We got the warm and drippy wet! As we listen to the pounding of rain on the rooftop, I think how lovely it is. So rhythmic. So predictable. With a rumble of thunder -- so spring!

(Just for balance, we're getting the sunny and cold tomorrow.)






Breakfast is very late. Turns out I sleep better in the morning than I do at night these days. Ed's habits are rubbing off on me.






I am thrilled to learn that the delivery of foods to my mom went off smoothly. Perhaps things will get a little more dicey going forward, but for now, she is in such a good place! Talk about timing! For the good fortune of moving when she did, there will always be the person who is less lucky, struggling to get approval, to find a space, to move. I know the process now. It's tough in the best of times. These are not the best of times.

I talk to my sister in Poland. She reminds me how many crises they've lived through in recent decades. She is correct of course. Each time, you get your bearings and move forward. Right now, the shelves in the stores are not at all empty. There was a time in our youth when you couldn't find anything you'd want to eat in a supermarket. Now (as then!), you simply can't find toilet paper.


In the afternoon, Snowdrop is at the farmhouse. We have formed an extended family isolation unit. None of us have any physical contact with the outside world. It is like "walking" the corridor from their rooms to ours and back again. (Sparrow stays home. He's a terrible napper here. Better off falling asleep in his own space.)






We read. And read. And she plays. I hear that she had a dream last night -- of being in school, of me picking her up, as usual. When she is here, for a few minutes it feels almost like the old times.






In the evening, I make a soup for two days, using lots of cannellini beans, I do have a lot of cannellini beans!

Welcome to spring, cannellini beans! Welcome to spring, children and all those who need a gentle hand on the shoulder right now.

with love.

Wednesday - 5th

This morning we wake up to snow.






It's not a big deal. The usual mushy stuff you get in early spring. Sort of pretty, actually, though the cats complained.





As I rest an extra hour in bed (because I don't know about your nights, but ours have become pot-marked with wakeful hours where we discuss nothing in particular), I thought about how hard everything is for people with few resources and, too, how hard it is for those who have to put themselves in dangerous situations (in Poland, one grocery chain relieved all seniors employees of their duties and put them on sick leave), and how really hard this is for parents with very small children.

Maybe also for parents with older children. Ed came back from his Zoom meeting with his techie pals and told me this joke, delivered by a dad of several school aged kids -- after two weeks of closed schools and a lock down at home, you'll realize the teacher was right about your children!

Having a little more time than usual this morning, I flick through news stories, searching for those that have something positive to offer. There aren't many!

But here's one from CNN.com: their chief medical correspondent talked to Deepak Chopra -- you know, the New Age movement guy -- about how to deal with the stress of right now. In the audio clip, Mr. Chopra sounded insanely calm. You could almost see a twinkle in his eye as he said, quite convincingly, that he began each day feeling happy. Or at peace. Or something equally positive.  All it takes is waking up to your four intentions for the day: to be joyful and energetic, loving and compassionate, reflective, and to keep within you a lightness of being and laughter. Not tomorrow, not later, but on this day. Got that? Lightness of being, darn it! Slow down your thoughts, slow down your breath. Do nothing: move into choiceless awareness.

It stresses me out just thinking about how much I fail at these steps, but maybe that's just me. I go back to snuggling with my usual inner chaos. 

And so long as I'm handing out advice and tips on managing, I'm sure some of you are wondering how the hell you're supposed to stock food for a month in your small refrigerator. Well, I learned something today! Many things that you think need refrigeration actually fare well in the cupboard. Ketchup, for instance. Even once opened. (I didn't believe it either, but hey, these guys swear it's true.) There! I freed up space for the bottle of wine you refuse to open unless it's perfectly chilled.


Breakfast.





I tell Ed he should practice cheerfulness. Ed isn't uncheerful. He's just Ed. Same old, all the time.

A break in childcare today. Kids are home, parents are juggling work and the demands of the very young.

Ed and I have no great desire to go out anywhere. Not even to the county park. Leftovers for dinner. Time to dig out those candles again. And to say a quiet thank you to all those people who are doing their damn best to keep us all fed, informed and healthy!

With love.

Tuesday - 4th

Beautiful sunshine! Happy happy sunny day to you too!

Ed and I are in our 4th day of complete isolation. We've not been anywhere near a public place or a near a person since Friday. But we do continue for now to form a cocoon with the young family. It's as if we live in one household, separated by a car ride. Sort of like a long corridor from their rooms to ours. They, too, are practicing isolation, though we got a couple of days' head start on them!

It should have struck me that throwing out a light mention of something health related on Ocean would lead some of you to send me sweet emails of concern. So, let me reassure you that any percolating health issue had nothing to do with any virus whatsoever. The tough reality is that life goes on despite the accelerated presence of the virus. Our medical facilities have been attending to the health care needs of people full time, before they had to take on the virus-related case load. These other needs have not gone away. Without question, in my mind, the heroes now are the nurses and doctors on the front lines, who suddenly doubled their workload under the toughest conditions.

[Having said that, I do understand that I am navigating a minefield of privacy issues. Should someone I know get sick, it's not for me to write about that here. But at least for now, we're all starting out at the same virus free gate. As you are too!]

I have another thought on the topic of the virus. I am reminded of past calamities facing the world: everyone talks now about the Spanish flu. About other crises. You like to remember the good guys, but of course, we've since learned that there were plenty of not-so-good guys during the pandemic of 1918. That in a "fend for yourself" mode, people turned mean.  Fast forward to now. I've read more social media lately than I usually do, in part because I want to hear how friends are coping and offer some words of encouragement or support if needed. And though I would "unfriend" in a flash anyone I thought was mean or a bully, I'm seeing elements of blame-filled words in comments to others. Since we have now the tools to be even meaner than back in 1918, where FaceBook and the like were not even a fantasy, I wonder if we'll stay compassionate now, or if we once again will reveal our inner fiendishness.  So far, my small orbit allows me to see a whole heap of kindness. I hope your experiences veer in this direction as well and will continue to do so!

So, back to the sunshine!

After breakfast...






... Ed and I go out for a walk in our favorite county park. We ride the motorbike, because it saves depleting the gas in the car and as I huddle behind the big guy, I again think how grand it is that we are at the edge of spring!






At noon, two things happen. First, I receive (for the first time ever) a grocery delivery. Just a few bags, to test how Ed and I will treat the arrival of foods from the outside world. A practice run on what to wash and clean, what to leave alone overnight.

The second event is more jovial: the kids arrive at the farmhouse. It's a rather extended visit because the young family is still wrapping up the medical emergency that arose (all's good, everyone's fine now!) and I worry that the day here will be too long for them. But of course, time flies.

(Lunch, waiting for the bubbles to appear on the pancakes so we can flip them!)






(Ed: Snowdrop, do you know why the bubbles appear?)






(Sparrow doesn't care about bubbles...)






(Snowdrop, thrilled to have free access to the now much appreciated blueberries...)






(While Sparrow naps, Snowdrop goes on a farmette treasure hunt...)






(I promised a movie...)






(Fresh air...)









And now it's evening. I take out the head of cauliflower and chop it up. Defrosted shrimp and all that corn from our golden days of buying dozens of ears of corn from the farmers down the road. Cook it up, stir it, season it and voila. Dinner for two days!

With love.

Monday

And how was your Monday? Business as usual? Ha ha ha.

You know, personally, I would like some more sunshine, thank you very much. We've been promised. I don't see it.

In the morning, we had some slight anxiety about a missing cat. As I walked back to the farmhouse after feeding all the animals, I had to smile, remembering the innocent days when all my anxieties seemed to swirl around farm animals. Ed would say -- well yeah!

There isn't much outside that inspires me to take out the camera. It's not me, it's that time of the year. End of November and end of March: the naked months. Dirt, branches, brown debris. We love our seasons, we anticipate eagerly all that will follow and yet the camera stays on the table.

Well, except for breakfast. Click!






And, too, I pick it up when the kids arrive for a farmhouse visit.






My grandkids are lucky for all the obvious reasons -- good homes, good parents, full bellies. Still, these are challenging times for every child, everywhere. Upended routines, worried adults. Sparrow knows this less than Snowdrop. She hears the conversations. Her mom is just now recovering from a bout of ill health and now there's this talk about a virus that she knows all too well by name. I can tell the little girl's got knots in her belly when the first words out of her mouth are that she wishes she had her Koalie with her to snuggle with all the time.






In fact, it's Ed who brings that giggle back in her, by suggesting a spirited game of ball.






Yeah! While Sparrow naps, she moves seamlessly from ball game to story telling and before the end of the first hour, she is her old self again.






(Sparrow, just barely awake from his nap...)






Evening.  Ed and I buy hefty gift certificates from Finca's coffee shop and Paul's Oasis Cafe. Talk about businesses hit hard! It could be that we wont ever be able to use them. How do you survive a sudden total shutdown? If you have just a few dollars, consider calling up your favorite local place and giving them your support.

Supper. I reach for some spinach and for the mushrooms. I throw a potato into the microwave and crack some eggs. Cheese - an Italian blend, shredded. Yeah, you guessed it. Frittata time. The perfect comfort food.





With love.

Sunday

We are waiting for the sun to come out.

March is a funny month in Wisconsin. At first, you're thrilled with its appearance. Remember those bitter cold days of January? February? We've turned the corner! We focus on spring. It's 42F (5.5C)! Amazing!

Inevitably, the burst of euphoria dissipates and restlessness sets in. Why is it still so cold? Oh no! We're up to only 40F (4.5C) today. Why is everything still so brown out there?







And where is the sunshine??

On balance, March is not a popular month. We forget about the lift it gave us and concentrate on its inadequacies.

Breakfast.






You could say that this is just a human foible. We are spoiled and we always long for something better, even if what we have is not so bad. In May we'll be complaining when a day registers "only" 60F (15C). But looking around for something better isn't all bad. What would you prefer -- complacency and acceptance, or restlessness and innovation?

We can't change the course of a weather front. But we can log onto the weather maps, note that sunshine is forthcoming, (indeed, this afternoon!) ...






... and go out and play when it is here.






The directive to stay home does not preclude outdoor adventures, so long as you avoid being around people. And believe me, there are no people, even on a Sunday, at a disc golf course on a mid-March afternoon.






In the evening, the young family comes over for dinner. We are, for now, an extended family cocoon. They'll isolate and work from home. The kids wont be in school (schools are closed). The risks of virus complications are small for them, but in this way, they're doing their bit to slow the spread. And of course, it buys them more grandma time. And a Sunday meal, outside their home, which is more than most can count on these days.






(treasured mango piece)






(equally treasured -- laughter)






I only wish I could see Primrose (and her parents!) right now. March may be the first month when I do not get to play with her in person. Whoever throws out disparaging words against technology, take note: Facetime for grandmas who live just a little too far away is like a cake delivered to your door again and again. With whipped cream and berries. And perhaps a slice of mango.


Stay well, stay happy!

Saturday

Today was the day I was to land in Warsaw. I'd looked at the weather charts with lots of enthusiasm. For once, March was proving to be a winner there!

Of course, instead, I'm staying home.

For kids and parents with kids, a day when you're stuck at home may seem long. You make a list of exciting things to do with them -- maybe build a whole city with blocks and learn two languages while you're at it -- and at the end of the day, you collapse and think: one day down and... what, 45 more to go?

But older people look at time differently: it seems to always pass quickly. You think you have a whole day before you and suddenly, you look up, glance at the clock and recoil. It's evening? When did that happen?

Looking back now...

MORNING

After breakfast, alone again (Ed needed to rest)...





... I attack the problem of adding some requested foods to my mom's pantry. She gets three meals a day at her retirement home, but she's mostly on her own with snacks. Yes, I would have done it sooner, but I just got her list and it seemed easy enough to simply order a home delivery. Peanut butter, nuts, ice cream, some cheese and crackers -- that kind of stuff.

Well now! I knew there would be a spike in online shopping, but of course, it's worse than a spike. All systems are crashing and besides, most of the items she wants are no longer available. Ed and I try four different sources and fail each time.

Of course, it isn't a major problem. Eventually, shopping may become less chaotic and, too, we can think of other clever ways of getting snacks to her, but still, it took us the whole morning to figure out that this just can't happen today.

What next? Well, since it's a rather cold day, Ed thought it would be fun to fill out our census form. There is nothing funnier than listening to him agonize over what to call our relationship (that's one of the questions). I know very well how to be provocative: say "husband and wife" and watch him turn pale!


NOON

Now comes the afternoon. Still cold and so we stay indoors. I start thinking about dinner. This is normally a two minute process. In simpler times, I have the week pretty much sketched out in my head. Today, I'm stumped. A frittata again? Will that deplete fresh veggies? Are we at that point so soon? Two days into the month's stock up and I'm already worried about depleting the veggies?

So maybe start in on the frozen ones?

I know, I know -- we should all have such lightweight problems! But thinking about which combo of protein and veggie to cook up for dinner is far less stressful than reading yet another report on what's going on in the rest of the world.


AFTERNOON

Email exchanges and texts with family and friends have increased somewhat. Not because any of us have more time (ask working parents how leisurely their days are feelin' right now!). I think it's because we crave that community that is suddenly threatened. And I want to know how things are for my beloveds. (I have to admit --  I need to restrain myself from sending them endless advice articles -- like, did you read the one posted by Consumer Reports on how to shop for groceries at the time of the pandemic? I mean, I'm sure they know to wash their hands, but I thought it essential to let the young families read about how they should be using their own pens to sign credit card pads. Because, you know, all that university education was not good enough for them to have figured this out on their own.)





And now the afternoon is long gone. I check my email one more time. I see messages from Delta and KLM asking me how I enjoyed my flights. The ones that I wasn't on.


EVENING

Chicken brats and broccoli. From the stack of fresh veggies. Broccoli bunches take up room in the fridge (we eat copious amounts of veggies each evening), so it's good to cook it up today. Next week, it's onto the frozen stuff.

We live in an unreal world, don't you think? Still, we're all trying to figure it out and I like to believe that collectively, we're forging ahead in the best way we can, with our brains working overtime to be sure, but too, finding space for a quick laugh (did you hear the one about Milan's painting of The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci? No one's at the table. Couldn't come, because of, you now, the virus). Hey, if the Italians (who are suffering terribly right now) can laugh and sing, so can I.

Didn't hear their voices? Try this. It's worth it.



Stay well, stay happy!

Friday

And so we roll up the sleeves and start the work of coping, of supporting, of living in this new way.


We are a land of diverse views and interpretations. This is beautiful: we experiment with a wide range of ideas. We need a range of ideas to thrive.

But I was thinking today, sometimes that range of ideas can be chaotic. And chaos can be detrimental to your health.

This was very much on my mind as I dashed over to the grocery store this morning. I know, I know: yesterday was to be our last run. And then I noticed I forgot the butter. Ed threw in four baking mixes (brownies, cookies), all of them needing butter. We have almost none. Back I go! One last time! (She said with conviction...) And so long as I am there, I fill in other gaps.

A small digression on preparing for living out of your refrigerator/freezer for a month: you should not do what I did. I had begun thinking that we need to stock up nearly a month ago. But I wasn't sure, so I did a partial stock up. As I began to be more sure, I added foods. And then more foods. There was no master plan. So long as the foods would not be wasted, I was willing to bring them home. This morning, I made a list of what was actually in the pantry, in the freezer and in the fridge. Uff! Lots of cannellini beans (for soups). Not nearly enough kidneys (for chili). And of course, no butter.

So after breakfast (solo, because Ed slept in and I was in a hurry)...





...I went back to the store. And as I filled in the gaps, I caught snippets of conversations. Ridiculous overreaction! -- said one gent. The panic is worse than the virus!  (Needless to say, this is not my view, even as I am no fan of panic.)

I ran into a friend. She was incensed about the fact that an infected person had had contact with an orchestra leader (she is a musician), who didn't think to isolate and had contact with a whole bunch of high school orchestra students. And contact with her. Wait, her? Should I step back a bit as I listen to this recount? Doesn't social distancing mean you're not supposed to have face to face conversations with friends?

Social distancing is interpreted so differently by anyone who hears this now common expression! Some have asked me if perhaps social isolation is an extreme over-reaction. Well, that depends. If Ed and I do not participate in a rich social life, then cutting out the occasional lunch or dinner with friends moves us neatly into the isolation bracket (except for the kids, but that remains an open question, depending on how things evolve in the next couple of days. Or hours.). Cut out the shopping trips and we are cut off. Isolated. And that should be good -- for us and for our community.

And what about all those diverse approaches? I hear some people saying that yes indeed, they are doing social distancing. They're not going to crowded restaurants anymore. Well that's a step in the right direction (except from the perspective of the restaurant staff), but when I look at the charts and projections, it would be better if they did more.

In other words, it would be wonderful if an authoritative source came on the air and said: the ideal model is this: (insert description here). You do not need to do more, you should not be doing less. You should work to come as close to it as is feasible in your particular situation. The closer the better. 

As all this unfolds, I have additional dramas of some significance unfolding in my family clan. Nothing health threatening, but still, these days are anxious days not only because of the virus. I'd say that what I need right now is a speed bump for the soul. You know those "calming devices" on residential roads? To get you to slow down? I would like something analogous to get me to stop thinking about all the "what ifs" and "why nots" in all our lives.

Such loveliness in today's blue skies! I've been doing a lot of reading to stay informed and make good choices, but at some point, one needs to let go of all the reading and processing and move on to another topic. Such as blue skies and sunshine that dazzles a rooster's feathers.






...Or children! Grandchildren!  As it's Friday, I am with just Snowdrop today. I'm feeling rather sentimental, as it's the last time I am picking her up at school. Well, the last time for a while. Because of you know what. No need to go back to that topic! Last look at the south facing bed of flowers... (will they be in full bloom next time I am here?)






A spirited romp (she wants to go to the young orchard in the hope of finding new growth...)...






... then in we go for an afternoon of reading and play.





I drive her home and we laugh at how the sun hides behind buildings, then reappears to shine brightly, too brightly, straight in our eyes as we head west. The fact that we can even play this game shows you how far we've moved into the spring season. Just a handful of weeks ago, we'd be driving in darkness, with headlights at full beam.

By the time I return to the farmette though, it is quite dark. I sautee some fish, steam some asparagus and cross off both items from my list of stockpiles. So far, so good.

Stay well, stay happy.

Thursday

Rally the forces, we are at war with a virus! Helping our communities stay safe -- that is the path forward and this is now our daily task.

Thinking clearly about your own situation, making lists of ways to move forward gives you a feeling of relief: you are not completely at the mercy of something that is threatening to knock you down.

Ed and I sit down to breakfast...






... and afterwards, we both go grocery shopping, for what we feel may be the last time for a while.

I am stunned to see a full parking lot at the grocery store. Normally a Thursday morning is so quiet! Hey, normally, Ed does not shop with me. But this is special. He wants to throw some stuff into the cart.
Chocolate chips cookies! We should bake chocolate chip cookies! And brownies!

He is full of sweet ideas.

I comment at the checkout that the store is unusually buzzing (with emptying shelves by the minute). The clerk responds -- panic buying.

No, it isn't panic buying. It's sensible stocking up. It's ensuring that we do not go out unnecessarily in the weeks ahead. It's being kind to our community. It's all of us, working hard to flatten the curve of infection, so it doesn't go through the roof all at once. Just a tiny hike, nothing unmanageable. We shop now to slow down the impact of this menace.

Ed and I are cancelling all our social engagements. (hey, we are social! just not very often...) I don't use the words "abundance of precaution." That sounds like you're one of those easily scared people who wears a gas mask before entering a children's classroom even on virus free days. We are not like that. We are merely sensible.

Speaking of children, for now, I continue to bring them to the farmhouse.





 '



 


One day at a time! We are taking one day at a time. Next week, I anticipate there will be even more changes in our routines. But, let's pull together in our communities. Right now, staying home (in Poland, seniors are told not to leave their homes at all, in France, outsiders are asked not to enter senior homes) is the best we can do. Yes, for us, but even more so -- for our families, for our friends and neighbors. For those who will need health care in the coming months.

Expect a lot of Ocean stories on how two seniors fill their time working the farmette lands in the quiet of a different kind of spring.

Stay well, stay happy.

Wednesday

It's a wet, drippy day. Warm for early March. Ed shrugs when I relay this to him. It's been an insanely warm winter, period. He answers.
Not insanely warm. Just warmer than last year.
No, actually insanely warm.
We had Arctic blasts. We had plenty of snow and ice.

He brings up the data. 8% warmer than average. I suppose "insanely warm" is not inaccurate.

Breakfast, relaxed.






The morning is reserved for emails and travel cancellations. And I have to say, it's a smooth, if time consuming process, with positive outcomes at all fronts.

Delta is reviewing my request for a refund. I'm sure they will approve it. Perhaps with a fee, but no matter. The bulk of the airfare outlay will be saved.
Air France instantly issued a travel voucher.
And my sweet tiny hotel in Paris waved its rule of no cancellations and no refunds on my booking and issued a voucher as well.

My financial losses will be minimal. Let's correct that: I will likely benefit from not traveling, as the expense of eating out, of local transportation -- all those little things that always cost more than you thought they would -- disappears.

My friends in Warsaw are glad I'm not traveling. And of course, I am too. It's interesting how quickly things changed in the last weeks. A month ago, most of us lived with innocence coming out of our ears. Three weeks ago, I was already on edge, sending messages to the young families about stocking up for quarantines. It seemed inevitable.

But then, one week ago, it was no longer simply inevitable. It was now. And now means protecting the vulnerable, protecting your local health care system, doing your bit to get good outcomes for nearly all who fall ill.

There was one other reminder from one of my Polish friends: stay optimistic! And I'll add to that -- stay cheerful. If you do your bit, you should be able, I think, to turn away from the constancy of this topic. Take a deep breath! (So long as you are not in a crowded place and no one has just sneezed at you!) We are, after all, at the brink of a beautiful season! The most beautiful season!

Still, do your bit! It's like voting: your small act, coupled with the small acts of others moves mountains. So learn to love your home. Revel in its wonderfulness. Use your phone, write letters, listen to music and watch the flowers begin their blooming season.


I pick up the kids. We play.





















They go home. For dinner, I scramble up a frittata: eggs from our cheepers, spinach from our local farmers, a diced potato, cheese. So much good stuff in our pantry! How can you not marvel at that!
Don't forget the mushrooms, Ed reminds me.

No, I wont forget the mushrooms. Sauteed in olive oil, with a squish of garlic.

Tuesday

A beautiful day, one to be acknowledged if not enjoyed to the fullest. I unfortunately have things to do! Groceries to buy. Mom things to straighten out. (The move was good, but she's had some grumblings and miscommunications, so I need to get to the bottom of things.) Kids to pick up.

But of course, first comes animal care. Here's an early morning photo of our most beautiful shed cat: Dark Blue Tuxedo. She is a girl and others took the lead on naming her.






And breakfast, solo. Ed overslept and had to rush to a meeting. On zoom. That's going to be the new normal for a bunch of people in the weeks to come.






I pick up the kids at school and there I find the first true colors of spring. They have a south facing flower bed and sure enough, today the crocuses burst open.






(In Snowdrop's classroom, Sparrow is learning the ropes. He loves treating this as his space too.)






(At the farmhouse, the entire afternoon is spent reading and telling stories.)






(hey, chocolate mouth!)





And toward evening, I visit with their mommy. She has had a tumultuous set of days. It's so good to sit down and just exhale and offload together.



And now I am at the farmhouse. Dinner of leftovers long finished. Time to write some emails with explanations about a decision I finally came to. I'm canceling my trip (which was to begin this Friday) to Poland and France. You'd think -- well of course! So much danger out there at the moment! But this wasn't what prompted me to call it off. Though there is some chance of picking up the virus, none of the cities on my list are reporting huge outbreaks (at the moment). And chances are high I'd be sitting alone on the long flight there and back.

So why cancel? Ed would call it a Black Swan event: small risk, but with large consequences should it come to pass. Me, personally, I'd take a small risk to go see my sister, my friends. To walk through the Luxembourg Gardens. To be thrilled by the sight of primroses there. But this isn't about just me. We here in the US likely have a very large number of unidentified infections. Wisconsin's deceptively small numbers may be completely off. Between that and the flight, why would I want to make my friends in Poland nervous about getting together with me? And, importantly, why would I want to bring worry home? Ed and I are older. We need to look out for each other, for people we love, for others living in this grand state we call home.

So I wont go, even as I am terribly sorry about missing this trip. But, people have worse choices and greater anxieties facing them now. Me, I'm merely slated to have an expensive  (all those lost prepaid moneys) staycation. Still, I wont bring home the anxiety that would otherwise surely follow me around, like some wild animal waiting to bite hard. 

In the meantime, I'm also following this advice: skip the shakes and hugs for friends and colleagues. Let's all get used to a simple, elegant bow. A greeting of respect and of love.