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Blackboard Residue
Clean those erasers
I am not a particularly clean person. I am one of those people who through the pandemic didn’t wash his hands often enough and when he did, did NOT soak them in warm water for at least thirty seconds. And I finally got a mild case of Covid recently, even after all my boosters.
Mind you, I don’t court dirt and disease and I DO take nightly showers. I wash my face every morning now since my ophthalmologist insisted that my eye problems were related, if not caused, by a lack of proper cleaning. Don’t get me wrong: I like to feel clean and if you saw me, you wouldn’t think I was in any way not clean or dirty.
But then, I’m not sure how you might see me because I can’t see everything, even though much of what I have seen also lingers.
Still, the residue that clings to me from years of not being as concerned about proper hygiene as I should has taken its toll.
Worse, the residue from decades of living in a dusty old world where we refuse to face the refuse of the pain that we’ve inflicted on each other, and particularly to people we’ve had power over — the seemingly forever disenfranchised others — has embedded itself so deeply into my nose, and brain, and heart, that cleaning isn’t possible.