2020 Tish
This 20 by 20 inch quilted wall hanging shows the year 2020. The center medallion is a self-portrait, my late husband's ring around my neck. Each of the radiating sections shows in color highlights I experienced, and in gray planned experiences I missed because of Covid isolation. January is the Golden Gate bridge explored with my daughter, February is Tampa, eating loquats with my son. March was to have been an overnight watching a half-million sandhill cranes gathering in Nebraska; a red bead announces the arrival of Covid. In April I missed our doll club's 50th anniversary celebration and saw Holy Week worship reduced to videos on TV. In May I would have acted Malory scenes using umbrellas as swords at the international medieval conference in Kalamazoo. In June I made an owl quilt for a new grandniece and forty masks for a veterinarian friend. July would have been a quilting conference with my three sisters. August would have been a visit to San Francisco to see my daughter's work for an opera. September instead of seeing my WCC students at the Islamic Academy, I taught empty black boxes through Zoom. October had pumpkins but no trick-or-treaters. November had a solitary turkey with no guests. December had no children, no Christmas pageant. Through that long year, the red beads of the Covid threat increased. The full-size glasses I wore between 1963 and 2020 indicate the way the solitude of that year made me see the previous 75 years of my life differently: some things I understand more clearly, and other things are even more confusing than before.
