Author Jennifer Pastiloff on how an Instagram post sparked an outpouring of generosity that helped turn her world around
It’s 2020 and finally I am making money, I said into my whiskey in February at a restaurant in Portland, where I was meeting friends after my flight landed. We were toasting the new-ish year before a book launch at Powell’s Bookstore. You might have to dig into the well of your imagination to recall these things: travel, eating inside restaurants, maskless faces, crowded bookstores. After having had a baby four years before at 41 (a geriatric pregnancy it’s called), I was now finally able, to begin to dream of moving out of my 500 sq ft one-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles, upgrade my 2005 Hyundai, get some new hearing aids.
Enter global pandemic. All my income went (as well as my penchant for alcohol due to newly developed gastritis and gallstones). I’d made my money through live events and travel, both not happening. Gone also was my ability to understand what was spoken, as I am a deaf person in a masked world. A lip-reader.