COVID-19: A Slice of Humble Pie

Jane Jenkins Herlong

August 7, 2020

My world is filled with standing on stages, meeting wonderful people, writing books, and living the dream … until March of 2020. Overnight everything changed — my full calendar became empty.

What’s your slice of humble pie?

So we are in this together, right?

My speaker buds and I have taken a hit and were served a large slice of humble pie. The first Zoom call, most of us were in shock. The once totally put-together impressive women who always dress to kill looked like they wanted to hurt somebody … anybody. I could hardly recognize some folks — no make-up and some half-dressed. You only need to be dressed from the waist up for a Zoom call. One speaker friend confessed to the group that since she has been home-schooling; her children now call her Smother instead of Mother.

Of course, we have developed a new vocabulary: social distancing, new normal, and virtual whatever. Indecent exposure is now defined as someone not wearing a mask in public.

What have you learned? What are you learning?

I know what I am learning. All my bits of sweet tea wisdom and southern fried humor sound great when you are sharing from a stage or writing a story, but suddenly those words become totally alive when you have to live your own speech.

Years ago I heard a story by the great Zig Zeigler that still lingers in my head. The parents of twin boys were totally baffled. The boys were polar opposites: one was super positive and the other totally negative. The parents sought the help of a renowned psychologist to help even out the attitudes of the twins. One of the boys was put in a room with the best toys for him to play with. The other twin was placed on a room with nothing but a huge pile of manure. The parents and psychologist observed the twins as they interacted with their environments. The twin placed in the room with the state-of-the-art toys suddenly burst into tears. “There is no one to play with me!” he exclaimed. The other twin had a different experience. In the room with the pile of manure, the parents and psychologist only saw the child’s legs — the rest of his body was jammed into that awful pile of manure. Then they heard him say, “There has to be a pony in here somewhere!”

So it all goes back to attitude and how we see things. A friend of mine confessed that she had forgotten how to enjoy the simple things in life. She hears the birds sing more and sees the beauty in budding flowers.

It’s a humbling experience when the playing field is level and we have to dig deep, even in our own pile of manure, and develop skills and go through to get through.

I am thankful for good health, a wonderful family, and a sweet supportive community.

Back to my original question; what have I learned?

Be thankful and, although COVID-19 is not funny, try to find some levity and laughter. In order to survive in a healthy way, let’s all dig deep and look for simple pleasures.

Jane Jenkins Herlong

Jane Jenkins Herlong is a Southern humorist, Sirius XM comedian, member of the Speaker Hall of Fame, and the best-selling author of four books. Jane travels the country sharing her sweet tea wisdom and Southern fried humor. For information on how to contact Jane for speaking engagements or to purchase her books, CD’s or MP3’s, visit www.janeherlong.com

Jane Jenkins Herlong

In the know

The Case for Chocolate

How is it mothers always know what’s going on behind their backs, especially when it’s something naughty? I loved sugar as a small child. When no one was looking, I’d get into the sugar bowl. There usually wasn’t much activity or supervision in the dining room, and the sugar bowl tempted me. I would use the spoon in the bowl to scoop up the sugar and put it in my mouth, and then wait in bliss while it slowly dissolved on my tongue. Evidently this was very naughty, and my mother always knew. It took me a long time to find out how. The spoon was sterling silver, a souvenir

Taking Action

“Opportunities are like sunrises. If you wait too long,you miss them.” ~ William Arthur Ward This year has me wondering — is there more? More to life perhaps? More I can do? More I want to do? Many of us have had more downtime in the past year that we’ve ever had before. Lots of thinking time, lots of planning time. We all know that time is not finite, but when life comes to a jarring halt as it did in 2020, maybe it’s time to reassess what we want the rest of our lives to be. Most will probably want more travel, more family, more normal. This time of

Dogs Riding in Cars

I suspect it may be the reason most dogs keep us around. We can drive cars … and trucks and motorhomes and motorcycles. And, as a result, we can seemingly create the very wind itself. To the senses of dogs riding in cars, I suspect it seems we can also somehow make all the best smells float on the air at once, with a cacophony of new and familiar sounds intertwined and changing every few seconds. We magically bring farms with fields of horses into view before they dash past us with glorious speed. We find new people to watch walking and riding bikes, and other dogs to call out

Why I Love Daffodils

There is something magical about daffodils. The mere shape of the flower seems to trumpet the arrival of spring, announcing something new and exciting. Imagine March in the Lowcountry with a sea of yellow daffodils covering a yard that stretches all the way down to the banks of Abbapoola Creek. My grandmother Lou would sit on the green porch swing and watch her grandchildren de-daffodil her yard. I can still hear the rhythmic creaking of the chains from the old swing — it almost sounded like a familiar song. She loved watching us pick every flower but there was always another prized daffodil hidden in her yard. The goal was