April
15, 2020
Today’s
observation – A confluence happened today. A morning read flowed into direct personal
experience, one on the heels of the other.
As has become my habit every morning, I browse my news feed, a story
from Politico caught my attention about the second coming of Coronavirus into bucolic
America. “One of the negatives of living
in a rural community is you think it protects you somehow.” Dr. Howard Leibrand
from Skagit County, Washington shared this sentiment in an interview that
opened the article, and I found it spot on with thoughts that I’ve had myself, believing
life in a small city in Iowa can feel removed from the danger all around
us. Maintaining a semblance of routine
with exercise outside and basic shopping, I’ve been lulled into thinking of
this place as a safe harbor. Governor
Reynolds has resisted ordering statewide shelter in place, suggesting even that
she will tell people they can return to work and school at the end of the
month. I get it, it feels okay here in
our micro universe. Let the urban dwellers and progressives fight the dragon
for us all. On this five-acre haven of school grounds, we are safe and
healthy – the sensible prevention protocols appear to be working. So why did the Politico article get me to reconsider?
Can there really be island of immunity? Many think it is very likely that a Perfect Storm is not far away, given how daily interactions
between those of all ages remain careless and given that the rural health care
facilities are woefully unprepared and ill equipped for what Covid19 demands. I had barely taken time to truly muddle this
out when my personal experience joined the article’s conjecture: bam, bam. Here’s how it went down. I dropped off my car at the body shop and was
checked in by the assistant manager who wore no mask and interacted with me with
no apparent regard for social distancing in his small office. He sat and I stood about three feet apart as
he took my key and information. From there he walked me to an area to wait for
my rental car to be brought round. When the young service agent arrived, she
wore no mask either and stood only two or three feet away as we completed the
contract info with her tablet. After
doing a walk about inspection for dings and scratches on the car, she turned
to me and said, “Go ahead and get into the driver’s seat, turn on the car, and I’ll
get the mileage and gas levels. She
climbs into the passenger seat beside me, our faces maybe an arm’s length apart.
It’s true that I have developed a new habit of wearing a mask when I’m out in public,
not as anything to prevent me from being infected (I don’t have that kind of
gear) but to help prevent the spread as
I can on my end (which usually includes social distancing). And I
am not interested in shaming people to comply with the safe practice and common-sense
preventative guidelines, but I would think that the businesses these service
agents worked for would. PEOPLE
PLEASE!!! Here is how the storm finds
us! Here are signs left and right that we are inviting a predatory pathogen to come
on in and kick some Iowan ass sooner than never. Here the intersections of possible and
seriously getting ready to happen are falling around us like steel beams. Then
again and as they say, stupidity is a good natural selector and this virus is
just doing its sacred work. Wasn’t I
going to practice more surrender anyway?
I seem to remember setting that intention a few days back.
Today’s
idea – Keep it up Trump, you are doing great.
Exhibiting the perfect behavior, moronic judgement and tantrum frequency
to alienate and infuriate enough Americans who normally sit on the fence and
let others do the voting for us to elect a new president in November. Like the sign says, Flush the turd, vote on
the third!
Today’s
image- Spring snow falling on young foliage; Virginia bluebells huddled heads
down with their apical leaves wrapped around young lavender buds; a skiff of
ice rainbowed by the morning sun; April in the upper Midwest. I was stilled by the sight of snow in my
first glance outside. Truly quieted in
my core; a relief sprung from a sense that even with the hammer of catastrophic
consequences poised overhead, this unexpected scene has pulled me into a larger
frame. The white crystal blanket will
melt into the green by midday as nourishment. Maybe this slowly emerging catastrophe
will bring nourishment too, after it contracts with its work done - re-balancing life ways and populations, recalibrating an economy grown parasitic. Maybe I’ll end up as a piece of the collateral
damage, food for worms when this is over.
Maybe I’ll survive in witness. Just in case the second option happens,
I’d better keep up my practice with this descriptive note taking and reflection
making. The ground of the civilized
world appears to need some dethatching and deep spading, to be turned. It could be a necessary cultivation if we
really want to revitalize the human garden. It would seem the larger
revolution has begun.
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