Author: Vivian Bikulege

St. Corona and the Daily Cross of Virus Days

I believe there are as many types of saints as there are souls to be saved. – Flannery O’Connor.  I’ve decided I’m stopping after this — writing pandemic essays — but I can’t promise. I suspect I’ll need to redirect my thoughts to the election in November. That’s a different column, and probably one that will never be written.

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Songs of Defiance

 John Prine is dead. I never met John, but I loved him. He wrote and sang Sam Stone, Hello in There, and Angel from Montgomery among many, many other songs. His voice wasn’t sweet, it was real. And lung cancer didn’t take his life, Covid did. When I learned he was in the ICU in Nashville with the virus, I’d check-in online to learn his status. I was awake and writing at 2 a.m. when a newsfeed lit my laptop screen to inform me that the “celebrated singer-songwriter” had passed. Prine died on April 7 when the moon was full, and pink, and super.

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No Matter What

A pandemic isn’t a hurricane. We have water and electricity, internet and roads clear of fallen trees, but there is a sort of strange preparation for the unknown akin to a storm. It’s taken shape in bare store shelves, curtailment of entertainment, and news conferences by a governor and president buoyed by doctors, educators, lawyers, administrators, and in South Carolina, chaplains and signers.

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Spinning the Wheel

Do you watch Pat Sajak and Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune? Is it part of your after-dinner routine squished between network news and Jeopardy with Alex Trebek? In a world of social media and streaming services, kids and young adults probably aren’t entrenched in guessing letters and solving puzzles, but I’ve been spinning for a long time.

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What’s Happening

april, 2021

DEBBI COVINGTON: My Fabulous Cooking Show

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