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[onlinecrown]

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[helenmaybewriting]

...We’re missing something

- ‘Separation’, W. S. Merwin

These thoughts started as a couple of tweets, and grew. They are not fully formed but I am profoundly discomforted by the ways in which the dead are (or are not) being talked about in all our leaders’ plans and public discourses about roadmaps ‘out’ of this crisis, and the (unstated) implications of their absence. So here are some rough, ill-formed thoughts for now.

“Lets face it. We’re undone by each other. And if we’re not, we’re missing something” 

-Butler, Precarious Life, 2004, 23

I’ve been trying to work (as we all are), at home, while simultaneously checking in on friends and family, building new, smaller routines. I’ve been trying to stay away from commenting on the current context, because who has words right now? Yet I haven’t been able to get a question out of my head; its been floating around, running across the tip of my tongue, looking for an answer. Who will mourn the dead? Or, perhaps, why won’t we mourn the dead?

The death toll globally, now in the hundreds of thousands, continues to rise. Yet I am struck by the absence of mourning. On my twitter timeline I scroll past tweets announcing the deaths of family members—‘My brilliant dad died of COIVD this morning’… ‘My grandma succumbed, we couldn’t be there’… ‘Here is a photo of my mother before I was born, she’s gone and I miss her so much’… But still, this mourning, these stories are small, personal, isolated. Swallowed up in the noise of my twitter timeline. Photos circulate of middle-of-the-night army convoys in northern Italy carrying the immense volume of dead to neighbouring morgues, aerial shots of mass graves on Hart’s Island in New York, thousands of families collecting funerary urns in China. The dead are present. And yet they are not.  So, I have to ask, why are we not mourning collectively? Where is the shared grief? The commemoration of names, and lives, and stories?

Commemoration can be jingoistic, and nationalistic; it can be perverted for political ends. Yet commemoration also holds us together, pierces our self obsession, recognises something bigger is going on. 

When the towers collapsed in New York in 2001 you couldn’t escape the smiling holiday snaps of victims, hour-long specials about their lives and their deaths. When MH17 crashed, Victoria’s largest church filled with mourners. Is this crisis too large? Are we too separated? Or is it easier not to confront the reality when the future is so uncertain.

Shut in our houses the news drones about economic recovery, measuring the dead in the same graphic images, numbers soaring up in inverse to the plummet of the stock market. But there are no people in these stories. They are numbers, and the  tallying obscures the fleshy reality of what is being counted.

Reflecting on the American war story and repatriation of the dead, Kandida Purnell argues that ‘national binding in grief’ can only happen if together bodies feel an intensification of emotion (2018, 159). I don’t want to compare the dead from COVID to war dead—for many reasons, some beautifully laid out by Cynthia Enloe—but Purnell’s work on war dead demonstrates the impetus in seeing and speaking of the dead can provide towards collective commemoration and accounting.

Judith Butler notes that ‘many people think grief is privatised’ and depoliticised, but Butler argues that ‘it furnishes a sense of political community of a complex order, and it does this first of all by bringing to the fore the relational ties that have implications for theorizing fundamental dependency and ethical responsibility’ (2004: 22). It brings attention to the ‘we’, the relational, collective constitution of our human condition.

An absence of grief, a lack of mourning, means those relational ties are not felt, they are not made present. How different might people’s behaviours be, under lockdown and as lockdowns lift, if they felt not selfish frustration at being confined to home, but if confinement was understood as a relational act of solidarity motivated by engaging in and with grieving and memorialisation of those who have died because of this virus? An act of conscious care. 

Sara Ahmed (2004) argues that stories of pain must be heard for people to be moved by others’ suffering. There is an absence of these stories in mainstream outlets, although they circulate on twitter. How might we be moved if we allowed ourselves to sit with others’ pain? What does it mean that we are so interested in getting back to the pub, to visit mum for Mothers day, to celebrate the outcome of another enormous loss of life with VE day celebrations in the UK for example, that we don’t think about the potential deaths caused by our actions?

When lockdowns lift before the curve has flattened, it is a signal that some lives matter less than others; this is invisible and unstated but present. Again, in the realm of war, Maja Zehfuss points to the particular position of soldiers “whose lives are grievable [as per Butler] and yet put at risk in order, apparently, to protect other lives” (2009: 419). Again, healthcare workers, school teachers, public transport drivers, cleaners, are not soldiers (and it speaks to the paucity of our analyses that it is in war we look for these sacrifices and not in everyday life, and I’m reflecting too, on my own vocabulary in looking for spaces to speak of grief). Yet if you call them frontline workers, the battlefield is invoked, and their risk is rendered intelligible—to protect others. On twitter, I saw someone observe that when we talk about going back to ‘normal’ we are talking about low-paid workers working to allow others to stay home, but with more comforts. The politics of this disease and its violence—as others have noted—is racialised, gendered, and classed  (and globally differentiated ). More war analogies: who are we willing to sacrifice?

I don’t want to re-appropriate Butler’s conception of ‘grievable life’ entirely out of the context/s in which she presents it (replete with the complexities of uneven global power relations, and a persistent imperial gaze), however, the idea of grievability is profoundly valuable here, because to be able to grieve a death, according to Butler, you have to be able to imagine it as a life that should have been lived, and that requires a recognition of the fundamental sociality of our lives, and our bodies.

“But if we are social beings and our survival depends upon a recognition of interdependency…then it is not as an isolated and bounded being that I survive, but as one whose boundary exposes me to others in ways that are voluntary and involuntary (sometimes at once), an exposure that is the condition of sociality and survival alike” (2010: 54).

I’m not sure I’m saying that those who have died from COVID19 are ungrievable lives, but their deaths are being rendered invisible, unmarked, except in exponential log-graphs. If they can’t be conceived of, they can’t be mourned. In whose interest is it that we do not mourn; in whose interest is it that we lose sight of the social constitution of ourselves?

In this ‘easing restrictions’ and ‘lifting stay home orders’ can be justified in terms of the economy and ‘returning to normal’, ignoring the cost at which this will come. Because some lives are more grievable than others. In places in recent weeks this differentiated value of life is explicit. News outlets and ‘journalists’ make this claim explicitly. Others justify their lockdown-violating/bending behaviour because they are not in a ‘risk’ group, implicitly and explicitly at times, arguing that those with risks and vulnerabilities are worth less, that their deaths would be acceptable if others could ‘return’ to normal life. I don’t know even where to start in trying to convince people they should care about others.

Those who have died are not the ‘glorious’ dead of a foreign war, but rather the shameful dead whose deaths highlight the failings of the political class to act quickly enough, or out of anything other than self preservation. Lack of mourning is not passive, but predicated on active choices. Deaths are hidden, obfuscated, non- or mis- counted. Ungrievable deaths are not just unmarked, but are ‘unmarkable’. They ‘disappear into the ellipses by which public discourse proceeds’ (Butler, 2004, 35). And the public discourse reifies capitalist production that values labour over lives. It doesn’t have to be like this. As Arundhati Roy described, in a much shared piece last month, the pandemic is a portal, a gateway. We can imagine a different world. But to do so we have to make visible the deliberate strategies that try and justify and minimise the deaths of loved ones, near and far.

Roxani Krystalli, in a beautiful tiny letter last year reflecting on the burning of Notre Dame, the attacks in Sri Lanka, and noticing birdsong, called for us to ‘ask questions of our empathy and its failures’. An attentiveness to absences that would serve us well in the current context where so much of the suffering is occurring behind walls and doors and bodies.

Early in the lockdowns an text-image circulated on social media (I cannot find it again as I go to type this, thanks to the ephemerality of Instagram and twitter - EDIT, I found it, thanks to brilliant friend India Allender, posted below) naming the empty streets not as something to fear but as representative of a radical act of love. It is out of love for others—for those we know, and those we do not—that we remove ourselves from public places, restrict our movements. This is the shared vulnerability, the fundamental sociality of our embodied selves, that Butler talks about.

Yet as we move in public and private discourse from ‘we’ statements to ‘I’ statements—I want to go out, I want to see my friends, I am not high risk—we lose sight of that collectivity, and the emotional resonance, as Purnell argues, required for collective commemoration, dissipates. This violent teleological drive to reopen society is predicated on a refusal to acknowledge the loss we’ve all suffered, collectively. 

Perhaps a concerted efforts to see the dead, to mourn them, is an ethical responsibility as Butler notes, and it allows a reclaiming of that collective space, a willingness to stay apart, stay home, until we can all be safe.

 - post I originally saw on Instagram as a text-only post, that has been printed and pasted to the side of a building.

[rememberthattime]

Chapter 34. Jeff & Liv’s Wedding

I am exhausted. I’m writing this post on our 17 hour flight from Dallas to Sydney, which means it’s been two full days since the wedding. How am I still so physically tired? Will I ever recover? Did anyone get pictures of me doing The Wobble?

These are bleak questions, but they’re questions you’d only ask yourself after a truly phenomenal wedding. For Jeff and Liv’s big day, I wouldn’t have expected anything less.

Before I start, I have to say that I really debated whether I should write about this trip... This was Jeff’s wedding, so is it really my place to blog about it?

The past ten days have been an absolute blur though. I’m worried that if I don’t write about them, I’ll forget all the wonderful, hilarious, and fun times we had, which just isn’t acceptable.

I’ve written about this many times, including in my own wedding post: my dream is to read this blog 20 years from now, and immediately transport back into my 28 year old self. I’ll be 48 with a bum knee and receding hairline, but I’ll have this personal time machine to bring me back to 2018. My writing typically isn’t intended for anyone else, but for this particular post, I’m expanding my audience: someday, I want my kids to read about the day Uncle Jeff and Auntie Olivia got married.

The story of Jeff and Liv’s wedding week begins in Oklahoma... which means there’s nowhere the week could’ve gone but up.

Jokes! I’d booked a lake house in Kingston, OK for Jeff’s bachelor party, and this place was perfect: just 90 minutes from Dallas with all the fixin’s our groom could ask for. See, like me, Jeff is not one for “da clubs”. He isn’t “bout dat life” or even “blinging” any hotlines. In fact, despite being three years younger, Jeff is actually a much older person than me (e.g. asleep by 8 PM, glasses since he was 10, etc).

Anyway, I knew a Vegas trip wasn’t “fleek”, but a lake house off Texoma would be more the groom’s speed. We had to organize it for a time I was in town though, so Jeff and his eight groomsmen (including Matt and I) made the short 60 mile trek to Oklahoma the weekend before the wedding.

Now, what happens in Oklahoma stays in Oklahoma, but I will note a few memories:

Our inaugural bachelor party Olympics, which included billiards, pop-a-shot, air hockey, cornhole, and a number of drinking games Jeff and his friends perfected in college (Stack Em was a problem from me)

A legendary grilled dinner, including steak, chicken, taters, and asparagus, followed by a 3 AM cinnamon roll dessert

Quality time with my brothers and their friends, who reminded me a lot of my group in Seattle

Onions.

Through some miracle, MOST of us woke up the next day feeling okay considering the circumstances... which, again, will stay in Oklahoma. We somehow managed a round of golf at a luxury Oklahoma course (aka a cow pasture with 18 flags sprinkled about). We played like crap, which was entirely predictable given the state we were in. Pun?

After golf, we made the tougher return journey to Dallas, stopping only for a few panicked requests to “PULL OVER!”

The next few days were really about resting up for wedding. We fit in plenty of family fun (Pictionary, Jackbox games, Skip-bo, Feedstore, Mi Cocina, i Fratelli), but for the most part, Monday through Wednesday were all about rest and recovery.

Things really heated up on Thursday, when Jeff and I delivered decorations to the wedding venue. I should note here: Liv and her mom had been working on this wedding for months, so Jeff and I moving a few boxes was absolutely nothing. That said, it still took a couple hours to load, and we actually filled a 16-foot U-Haul.

Olivia’s dad drove the truck to the venue, while Jeff and I followed in the Mazda. On our way though, Jeff’s tire pressure light came on. We didn’t think much of it... until we started hearing a hollow, rubbery, rotating thud. Th-th-th-th-th-th-th. Shittttt. We had a trunk full of guests’ welcome gift bags and were only 3 minutes from the venue!

Jeff pulled to the side of the highway and we assessed the situation. His rear driver-side tire was completely deflated, but thank god he had a spare in the trunk. To pull out the spare, we carefully hid the guests’ welcome bags behind the car so the tissue wouldn’t fly away. Then, only four feet off the side of the highway, Jeff jacked the car up, we threw on the spare, and were back on the road again in less than 10 minutes. Those are pit crew numbers!

This flat tire could’ve derailed our entire day, or been a bad omen for the wedding just a few days later... Instead, with a calm attitude and headsy demeanor, Jeff and I overcame our biggest wedding week challenge.

Side note: I think the universe throws these extra hurdles in the week before a wedding as a test. Right before our wedding, Chelsay had to overcome a chest infection... This week, Jeff overcame a flat tire, my dad overcame a cold, and I overcame getting a bocce ball dropped on my head. No matter the challenge, we cleared every hurdle and somehow managed to arrive safely at Friday’s Welcome Dinner.

Just like Chelsay and I’s wedding, the Welcome Dinner made everything real. For months (and in our case years), we thought about friends and family coming together to celebrate our marriage. All of that planning builds a track for how the wedding will play out, and the Welcome Dinner is the point where the train leaves the station. A few highlights from Jeff & Liv’s:

Seeing Liv for the first time that week. She’d obviously been busy planning and hosting her family, so the Welcome Dinner was Chels and I’s first chance to catch up with our soon-to-be-sis.

Reconnecting with family, who came in from Washington, Illinois, Michigan, Kansas, Pennsylvania, and Florida.

Watching the various groups intermingle: Jeff’s Seattle high school friends comparing stories with his Southlake high school friends, Liv’s parents chatting with my aunts and uncles, ...Matt and Chandler finally meeting in the most hilarious way possible.

My dad’s toast, where he had the 60 person room in tears while telling a story about an important family heirloom he was passing down to Jeff & Liv... My brothers and I were looking at each other trying to figure out what it could be. A watch? A family seal? Maybe something from the Kern’s homeland in Germany? Nope, it turned out to be even more valuable: a fresh new Cub’s hat. Welcome to the Kern family, Liv.

The next day was 4/28. The date Jeff and Liv had been waiting, excited, and probably a little anxious for since their engagement in December 2016. This day was more than just 16 months of planning though. It was 10 years in the making! Jeff and Liv are high school sweethearts, and on 4/28, their Wedding Day had finally arrived. To quote Harry Potter: After all this time? Always.

Their ceremony wasn’t until 5:30, but don’t be fooled... There is still a full day of activities beforehand. For Matt and I, the co-best men, it started by picking up the wine & beer. This was a 150 person wedding, so we filled Matt’s Xterra to the brim with $1000 worth of reds, whites, Shiner, Michelob, and my brother’s favorite, Dos Equis. After seeing how Jeff’s groomsman drank at bachelor party, we decided to add an extra $500.

From there, we met up with Chandler and Liv’s dad at the venue to unload the U-Haul. Since we were already at the venue, Matt & I also stopped by the bridesmaids’ room to say good luck. We found out Liv had gotten them masseuses and Chick-fil-a! I guess the groomsmen’s room had NBA 2K and Dr Pepper, but Chick-fil-a!? ...I stole a couple nuggets for our alcohol delivery efforts.

Once everything was out of the U-Haul, I was worried we didn’t have much time to change... Jeff only took about 10 minutes to get ready though, so we ended up having plenty of time to relax in the groomsmen room. During this break, we also voted on stylistic features for the groomsmen, where Jeff got outvoted on sock choice at his own wedding.

It was soon time for pictures, and we got some gems. Father & son getting ready, a mother-son boutonniere shot, the obligatory casually-walking-pic, and updates to our family photo, now including Olivia, our newest Kern. We also managed a Hawaii throwback picture, and it’s safe to say that will be the best photo of the weekend.

With the bride and groom ready and pictures taken, all that was left was to get these two kids married. Early arriving guests were already demanding the wedding: “When I say Jeff, you say Liv! Jeff! Liv! Jeff! Liv!”

Once the wedding party was hidden, guests began to take their seats with the beautiful chords of the chapel’s violinist playing. Jeff walked my mom down the aisle to her seat (I’m sure there were tears), and the wedding party followed.

Liv and her dad then appeared at the end of the long aisle. From the front, I could see guests crying tears of joy as Nelson walked Liv to the altar, the violinist’s “Hallelujah” hanging in the background.

Those weren’t the only tears of the ceremony though. It was such a happy, beautiful service given by Liv’s Great Uncle Willy. Liv got choked up during her vows, and Jeff shed a tear when he and his bride held hands at the altar. It was a touching moment, one where your throat gets tight and you take a big gulp. It was my brother’s touching moment though, so I’ll leave the rest of the ceremony out of this blog.

After the I Do’s, Jeff and Liv escaped to a private dinner, while the guests cracked into $1,500 worth of Dos Equis.

The private dinner was actually one of many cutting-edge coordination tactics Jeff and Liv used. Let me ask a question: does any married couple remember their meal from the wedding? No. That’s because they didn’t eat! You’re too busy talking with guests and enjoying your night, and you totally forget to eat the meal you spent so long picking out. Jeff and Liv avoided this issue, and gave themselves a private moment together, by setting up this post-ceremony meal. A couple other clever ideas:

Sunset photos: the concept is self explanatory, but Jeff and Liv’s sunset photos will be second only to the Hawaii throwback.

A post-wedding private dance: it’s brilliant. It serves to get guests out of the venue, but also gives the bride and groom one last private moment to soak in their wedding. With all the guests gathering outside to send them off, Jeff and Liv shared a dance in the empty reception hall.

The last dance is jumping ahead though. After their private meal, Jeff and Liv entered the reception hall and were introduced as Mr and Mrs Kern for the first time. They shared a first dance, before a touching father-daughter and mother-son dance. My dad looked on proudly. Chelsay was in tears. Matt was in tears. And I’m not going to lie, I had that dry throat, big gulp feeling again too.

Dinner was soon served, and while guests enjoyed phenomenal barbecue brisket and mac & cheese, Jeff and Liv made the rounds to each adoring guest table.

After dinner, it was time for cake cutting and toasts. Liv’s Dad and her maid of honor both had very kind, heart-warming well wishes, while my toast hit a lighter tone. Like, lots of jokes about Jeff being an old man and Liv being short. I also turned a story about Jeff kicking me in the face into a positive personality trait, and brought up Liv’s Puppy-Lovah past.

By this point though, people were itching to dance. Jeff and Liv had an 10-piece band, and these guys were ready to go!

The party that ensued was a sweat fest for the ages. It had everything: Kern family ballads, Matt’s running man, Chels and Liv’s Whitney Houston duet, Jeff’s pancake maker dance, Chelsay mistakenly joining the Texas Tech-only fight song, and all of the bride’s trademark moves (the downward fist pump, arm roll, finger guns, and The Snake). Chelsay also refused to leave the dance floor, which meant I was stuck out there for group dances like Cupid Shuffle and The Wobble. I don’t know how to do either of these, so I found a safe spot in the back to learn as we go... What I didn’t realize was these dances have a Macarena-like rotation built in, so everyone has their turn up front. I spent the entire song continuously dancing to the back of the pack.

The highlight of the party, and possibly the wedding, was the last group song of the night: Don’t Stop Believing. One of the best memories from Chels & I’s Wedding is being encircled by friends and family as we belted Piano Man. It’s a rock star moment that every bride and groom deserve, and Jeff and Liv absolutely owned their moment. With every one of their 150 guests surrounding them in a circle, Jeff and Liv shredded their air guitars before being mobbed by their wedding party. It was a perfect way to end a perfect day.

Chelsay and I’s flight back to Sydney was supposed to be the next day, but THANK GOD it was canceled. We were able to get a replacement the following day, but absolutely needed the extra day to recover.

More importantly, it have us a chance to reflect together at my parents’ house in Trophy Club. My aunts and uncles, my parents’ friends, and the bride and groom all came over to laugh at all the memorable moments from the wedding week.

At one point, my Mom and Dad pulled out their own wedding album. I’d obviously seen it before, but this time was unique. We were looking at it with my parents’ wedding guests, the same attendees that were there on that 100 degree day in September 1985.

As my aunts and uncles looked through the album, everyone laughed and told stories from my parents’ ceremony. From getting ready at my mom’s house, to my dad’s excessive hairspray, to one of the groomsman’s quirky smiles, to the traditional baby apron the maid of honor made for my mom.

30 years had past and so much had happened: people had moved, children were raised, careers completed. None of that changed these lifelong memories they all shared together though.

And that’s when it sunk in: one day, my family will look back on this wedding day in the same way. Someday, we’ll reminisce about Jeff and Liv’s beautiful ceremony and about Don’t Stop Believing to end the night. We’ll laugh about the Oklahoma bachelor party and about Jeff’s flat tire on the way to the venue. We’ll remember my dad’s phenomenal Welcome Dinner toast and my mom and brother’s tear-jerking mother-son dance.

Just as my parents and their guests reminisced about 9/7/85, someday we’ll look back at the wonderful, fun, happy, joyous, beautiful day we all shared together on 4/28/18.

[radbarbarianpenguin]

PrimoSync Releases World’s First Completely FREE Android Data Recovery with Highest Recovery Rate

LOS ANGELES, Calif. /California Newswire/ — PrimoSync Inc., a pioneering developer of iOS and Android, today proudly released its 100 percent FREE and competent data recovery flagship – Primo Android Data Recovery for all Android users. Embedded with the most innovative technology, it fully helps Android users deep-scan every inch of data to make sure of the highest data recovery rate.

The most exciting aspect is that it’s totally FREE, offering ultrafast scan and recovery speed to rescue lost or deleted messages, photos, contacts and more from ANY Android phone or tablet.

“Having helped over 80,000 iOS users in the past 6 months to retrieve their mis-deleted or lost messages, photos, etcetera, we’ve also got a slew of feedback from Android users who also want to get back their lost data,” said Davis Harry, CEO of PrimoSync. “Therefore, we uninterruptedly enhanced our unique data recovery technology, and finally bring out the whole new Primo Android Data Recovery, aiming to thoroughly recover all vital Android data at zero cost, even with the maximum recovery success rate.”

Download the FREE Primo Android Data Recovery to get back lost messages, contacts and more: https://www.primosync.com/android-data-recovery/download.htm

Highlighted Features of Primo Android Data Recovery:

A Completely Cost-free Android Data Recovery Solution: Primo Android Data Recovery is the world’s first — yet the ONLY 100 percent FREE — Android data recovery tool with highest success rate! Now, no more free trial, and you are absolutely free to download, scan, and even recover everything back with no limitations and no hidden fees.

The Top-ranking Android Data Recovery Success Rate: Built on the newly patented technology, Primo Android Data Recovery scans deeper than ever to ensure you get back your lost or deleted data at the maximum data recovery rate. No more worries, and you can salvage your lost-but-valued photos, messages, contacts, call logs and more without any hassle.

The Industry-Leading Data Scan & Recovery Speed Ever: Armed with industry-leading data scan and recovery speed, Primo Android Data Recovery digs out the targeted lost files faster than ever. With it, you are able to get back your precious data in no time just as you had them before.

The Most Compatible Free Utility for Any Android Device: Last but not the least, Primo Android Data Recovery perfectly supports any Android smartphone, including SAMSUNG, Google, SONY, HTC, HUAWEI, MOTOROLA, LG, etc. Plus, it runs well on Android 4.0 or later.

For more details: https://www.primosync.com/android-data-recovery

Pricing and Availability: Primo Android Data Recovery is completely free of charge. No catch, no hidden costs, no in-app purchases. Users can directly download it from: https://www.primosync.com/android-data-recovery/download.htm

About PrimoSync: PrimoSync Inc. was established in 2016 in Los Angeles, California. The “P” in PrimoSync stands for “Passion, Persistence, Profession & More.” Learn more: https://www.primosync.com/.

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from California Technology News – California Newswire https://californianewswire.com/primosync-releases-worlds-first-completely-free-android-data-recovery-with-highest-recovery-rate/ via California News