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The Corona Journals - Week 12, June 14, 2020 - June 20, 2020

Updated: Aug 26, 2022

This will be our final week posting submissions. The Southampton History Museum would like to thank everyone who's participated in this project. We appreciate your contributions during this historic event we are currently living through. These entries will be archived for future generations to read and learn from. Please enjoy our last few entries.


Zachary Taylor (age 29, Farmingdale)

If my immune system weren't compromised and if I were required to be on meds that further weaken my immune system, I would be going out and showing support alongside the protesters demanding justice for George Floyd (with proper PPE, of course). But as of now, the best I can do is talk to people I know about these sorts of issues and contribute to any mutual aid efforts happening locally/across the country. At the time of writing, I'm currently sitting in a doctor's holding area with an IV drip in me for about another hour or so. The Benadryl injections make me feel just weird more so than tired: too exhausted to get work done, too awake to not be bored if I don't preoccupy myself. It's very weird, but it's for the best of course.

I'm very wary of where the timetable for reopening Long Island will lead us, especially while cases are still going on around the country in places where friends of mine live. The second wave is much more a reality as far as I've seen, the questions on my mind are 'when' and 'how many folks will this hit the second time around'. The best I can do is be careful for now, it seems."


Laurie Collins (age 62, North Sea)

“Work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion” Parkinson’s Law

During this time with so much time on my hands I’ve come to realize that I need a routine to be productive. Before this pandemic I woke up every morning at 5:45 to start my day. I’d shower, prepare breakfast and make lunches. By 10:00 everyone was out the door. I was in such a routine that I didn’t even have to look at the clock. Now on most days I have the whole day ahead to procrastinate. Sometimes we don’t eat breakfast until 10:00. At the end of the day I look back and feel like I wasn’t as productive as I could have been. I have not changed. When I was in school I sometimes did my homework,( that was assigned on a Friday), on Monday morning before school. It was a terrible place to put myself yet I found myself doing it over and over again.

When clothes at my house start to get some wear and tear they become around the house clothes. Lately I’ve noticed that our rag bag is full. We’ve been around the house so much that our around the house clothes are wearing out quickly.

Uncertainty is very unsettling to me. As Southampton slowly starts to phase back into some sort of normalcy I fear too much complacency and a resurgence in the fall. We all must be diligent. It has become hard work to stay healthy.


Joan Magiet (Eastport)

St. Martin Soliloquy

On the beach

Out of reach

Worshipping the sun

Passing time

Forcing rhyme

Wish this verse were done

Must go home

With a poem

It’s a goal I’ve set

Day or night

I must write

But first I’ll get wet

To the right

Is a fight

Over a beach chair

This is mine

Did you sign

Yours is over there

Hand in hand

Native band

Plays the calypso

Native feet

Tap the beat

They put on quite a show

I Choose My Muse

My safe space is easy to find.

I simply leave the crowds behind.

I nest in the warmth of a country breeze.

I’m shaded by mountains, grass and trees.

With thoughts of Shelley, an aubade,

A triolet, a serenade,

Among the melodies of birds

with pen in hand I search for words.

Butterflies and dragonflies

become my muses in disguise.

Crickets chirping in the night

remind me that I’m here to write.

I find it easy to compose

with jasmine and lilac at my nose.

The shifting clouds across the sky

convince me to personify.

The crunch of twigs beneath my feet,

The rustic air of folks I meet,

the hum of flies, the buzz of bees

coax my thoughts to flow with ease.

The distant mooing of a cow

encourages more rhymes somehow.

Like Wordsworth who called the meadows “home,”

green and serene I write my poem.

What’s In A Name

When Logan was a last name

and Dakota was a state,

Madison was a city.

That no one could debate.

When North was a direction

and Apple was a fruit,

Summer was a season.

That no one could dispute.

That’s when you could distinguish

a first name from a last.

When name implied a gender,

but that was in the past.

My neighbor’s name is Meadow.

Her daughter’s name is Lake.

Her cousin’s name is Carson.

And that is no mistake.

Yes, these names are common.

However, I am prone

to like names with tradition.

I’m glad my name is Joan.

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