In light of this quarantine, WSUM is moving our Story Hour podcast to article format! The theme for this month is home. As we are all directed to stay at home this month, what are some stories that come to mind when you are home?
Story 1: Ethan Cook
The other day my mom and I went on one of our typical walks. Our walks aren't relaxing strolls; they're like almost everything my family does: somewhat rushed with intermittent, thinly veiled jabs at whoever is closest at hand. On this particular walk we saw the neighbor boys out walking their pit bull, except instead of walking it they leashed it to a bike so it could run along as they pedaled. This harebrained scheme reeks of youthful ambition; efficient on paper, but likely to cause bodily harm in practice. Mom and I were verbally fencing over my class schedule for next semester– a topic we both thought we were authorities on–when we heard a shout from behind us. We spun around to take a look at the somewhat predictable scene playing out on the road behind us. One of the neighbor boys was sprawled out on his stomach at the edge of a ditch, bike abandoned nearby, still clutching the leash as the pit bull strained after something in the weeds. The hapless, or perhaps deserving, boy's brothers stood back, looking unsure if grabbing his ankles to pull him back would help or just result with them in the ditch as well. Mom and I tried to pretend like we hadn't seen anything and headed home. God knows that kid had his full of embarrassment for the day.
The world right now is feeling a lot like that scene on the road. Everyone is unsure what to do besides watch in awe as the country is sprawled out, being dragged into a ditch by a rabid virus. It's easy to point fingers and say, “Duh, shouldn't have ‘walked' a pitbull with a bike, or thought the virus wouldn't make it here”, but it's not going to do anyone any good now. I've found myself lately rooting myself in the safety of home, trying to do my part in pulling the country away from the ditch, even if some days I'm afraid to look. Times like these make it scarily obvious that maybe arguing with my mom about my future plans isn't the worst thing in the world, and we all could do a little more to help those more vulnerable than ourselves. In the end, it's going to take all of us to get the country out of the ditch, stand up, and patch up our skinned knees. We're all in this together.
Story 2: Zoe Klein
Sometimes you meet people that make you feel warm and fuzzy inside. People that make you laugh and cry and yell. People that infuriate you for not washing their dishes at the end of a long school day, yet they are the only people you'd want to hold your hand when you come down with a nasty flu in the middle of a Wisconsin winter, 844 miles from your mom, dad and puppy. I've been so lucky to have met these people, that turned Madison, WI from a place to a home and strangers to family. That's where I feel at home, and why I have a gaping hole bigger than Texas being away from them; home has become the warm fuzzy feeling I have when we're snuggled up together, where Saturday night anything goes, and Sunday morning I always have someone to eat brunch with.
