Silver Linings
The New Yorker
January 29, 2018
Price $8.99
cover “Cruellest Month”
by Roz Chast
flashback two years ago
before the pandemic
a calendar
counting down
starred, colorful, yellow
like sunshine
clearly the finish line
of a marathon month
of hurdles
all listed
day by day
1- HANGOVER
2- LOSE KEYS IN SNOW
3- STILL JANUARY
4- BOMBO-GENESIS ?!?!?
5- SLIP ON ICE
6- KNIT SELF SCARF
7- SUNSET AT 11 A.M.
8- COLD
9- GRAY
10- WET
11- COLD, GRAY, AND WET
12- FROSTBITE
13- LEAVE SCARF ON TRAIN
14- HEAT WAVE
15- QUARTERLY TAXES DUE
16- ARCTIC BLAST
17- ICE STORM
18- UGH
19- FLU
20- FLU
21- FLU
22- STILL JANUARY
23- SLIP ON ICE
24- WHY ME, LORD?
25- CABIN FEVER
26- CROSS-TOWN BUS NEVER COMES
27- SLEET
28- WEIRD FROZEN PELLETS
29- SLIP ON ICE
30- DENTIST
31- *LAST* DAY OF JANUARY!
a lone woman stands
surrounded by snow piles
shivering at a bus stop
green coat, lilac pants
matching lilac pompom hat
black shoulder purse, black boots
framed by a solitary street pigeon
a snowman
a cityscape of skyscrapers shadowed by cold clouds
a hand-knitted scarf draping down the left edge,
intermittent bands of springtime yellow and lilac
is this her calendar?
which day is she living?
maybe the cover date – January 29, 2018
but maybe not, since she isn’t lying on the pavement
after slipping on ice
no, she seems somewhere in between slipping
and looking relieved at the finish line
but clearly over having lost her scarf
she’s waiting on the bus to the dentist
did the prophetic artist
of “Cruellest Month”
Roz Chast
know that the cruellest year
ever – 2020 –
was on its way?
that we would be rewriting this calendar
in daily
weekly
monthly
at-a-glance cross-sections
of COVID-19 cruelty?
I envision a moment
somewhere in this murky haze
a teary smile of gratitude
on the face of the passenger
who discovered
the warmth of
a hand-knitted scarf
on the seat of the train
there are some silver linings
-Kim Johnson
Common Threads 