Skip to main content

Covid19 Journey Day 34


April 24, 2020

Today’s image – A few governors have decided to reopen some nonessential businesses and encourage people to get back to work – Georgia, South Carolina, and Florida are leading this initiative much to the skepticism of both other governors and many of their citizens. I believe that New Yorkers are suffering from PTSD.  They can wait for now. Governor Cuomo, thinking more expansively than most, has joined in an East Coast regional pact with Pennsylvania, Connecticut, New Jersey, Delaware, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts, so that these states can coordinate the lifting of their stay at home orders. Nevada’s governor is looking at April 30 as a go date, while Las Vegas’s mayor has pushed for her city to open now, saying that the desert heat will keep the virus at bay.  Maybe the casino owners subscribe to this thinking, but I don’t think the workers are too keen on it.  California Governor Newsom will collaborate with the Oregon and Washington governors (West Coast regional pact) to begin their creep toward releasing their stay at home orders.  I glad to see how local and regional civic leaders are taking charge of things, as the president continues to make an ass of himself and the office with his ill-considered briefings and advice. Recreational shopping has become a very optional activity, even as those of us staying put are feeling pangs of restlessness, and missing our significant others like a flower would miss the bees. If not for the daily dispatches from doctors and nurses on the wards of the stricken, I’m pretty sure; we’d be pushing for release too.  But their testimonies and exhausted and defeated looks give us every reason to keep things in idle a while longer.  The engines of our economy are experiencing withdrawal from the robust business pace that has made us the top consumers on the planet.  And the stress test of this pandemic revealed how commerce for commerce sakes sticks out like a sore thumb of avarice, a rather parasitic enterprise,  This is not to say that small businesses and local merchants don’t deserve to feed their families and feather their nests.  Corporate commerce that generates copious profits at the cost of planetary well being is the exposed menace, and this is where conventional capitalism fails us.  While we wait out the virulence of this contagion a bit longer, please let wiser civic leaders and prudent policymakers sit together around the planning tables with ingenuity and circumspect computer modelers as they plot out how we pick ourselves up and walk forward.  And please include historians at that table.

Today’s observations – We are cloistered but not without the view of many, many windows.  Every morning, I raise my shades to check in with the wild world outside.  The birds busy themselves with morning routines – white-throated sparrows calling to mates or chasing about for early bugs, cardinals, blue jays and blackbirds compete for cracked corn at the feeding box, robins do their spring thing of tussling for territory or worms.  My Westie strikes his brightest attention pose, watching the squirrels, gray, black and brown, as they scout out the mast buried last fall in the duff and mulch.  Soon, I turn my attention to another window, my IPhone screen, to consumer the morning news feed, inviting the world into my space. In Ohio, there is further evidence that we have entered a very dystopic time. In Columbus, there was a rally for the right to return to work.  There, a journalist saw a protester wearing a Handmaiden Tale costume of a scarlet cape and white bonnet. Her sign said, “My Body My Choice.”   I have to wonder if the conservative activist had even read Margaret Atwood’s novel of female defiance.  Such arbitrary appropriation of illusions and slogans is both amusing and disturbing. It suggests that this contingent pushes for something they haven’t really thought through. Over breakfast, I check in to my social networks, looking for news of my distant families’ lives or my friend’s favorite lampoons for the day.  I can relax into the image of a spring forest canopy dancing in the wind from the vantage point of an overhead drone camera. Or I shiver at the sight of a little girl dressed in a mask and protective gown head to toe by her grandfather, so she can hug her father in his patrol car.  I am grateful for the post of my granddaughters whom I haven’t seen since December.  My classroom is another cyber window, and students peer at me through their laptop or phone screens as I at them through mine. In the afternoon, I move to an audio window and listen to NPR.  Top story today is about a new computer health modeling effort by the IHME, based on a question, “What is the maximum number of new infections that states could handle with their current testing and contact tracing capacity?”  The answer – “one new infection per one million people.”  I shift to the visual of a chart of dates and states.  This model projects that Iowa could reopen June 26 and Illinois, May 19, based on these criteria. I wonder if Governor Reynolds is factoring this information into her decisions.  After dinner, I lean into my sister’s living room, eight hundred miles away, and visit via Facetime.  While human touch is largely forbidden fruit, we have learned to let our eyes and voices soften the gaping need. Out my west window, I notice a fingernail crescent hovering above the tree line and an ellipse of headlights on the I-74 bridge. 

Today’s idea – We must practice vigilance like never before.  We are a bit like the little pigs, seeking safety behind untested walls. I admit that I grew up believing in the world as generally being a safe place, and therefore, security has become quickly assumed to be a guarantee for modern life. It is easy to let my guard down and even delude myself into thinking things are not so bad, that we will get through this relatively unscathed if we only do what we are told by those who we respect.  I am telling myself that I’m practicing good citizenship.
On the other hand, I have lived long enough to know how hazards and jeopardy can simply show up in unexpected ways.  Danger might be a brother to safety, and even in these decadent times, we can expect to dance with him more than once if we live at all. Isn’t it those experiences which fuel adventures and secure prized memories, when they work out.  I contrived my share of dumb, dangerous situations as part of a passage to see what I was made of.  It is true, most Americans take safety and comfort for granted, claiming it to be our legacy. If we are free of fear, it is because we can live such unimperiled lives most days.  But now we are amid a different circumstance, the scope of which few alive today have ever tangled with before. I have heard forecaster say we are only finishing the second inning of this game. This, I believe. Our resilience will be tested; our grace will be tested; our levity will be tested; our gravity will be tested; our generosity and cooperative spirits will be tested; our courage will be tested.  I just hope our vigilance will be inward as well as outward and that we grow and evolve to learn how to live with the wolves at our door.  It appears to be our karma and our dharma now.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

2020 Pandemic Journey Day 44

May 4, 2020 Today’s idea – What has the fog of our modern conveniences begat? I read an article last night published in 1950 by Berton Roueche’ titled The Fog . In October 1948, a toxic smog settled on the borough of Donora, PA. This town is tucked away on a meander of the Monongahela River in the Allegheny Mountains.   During that time, it was home to three huge mills, a steel plant, and a zinc and sulfuric acid plant. The towering factory stacks of these industries pushed out thick plumes of coal smoke all day and all week. Also, given the town’s proximity to the river, boats and trains added their emission to the cocktail. To seal the deal, Donora sits in the topography of secluded bluffs and hills that allow for little or no wind to carry the smoke and fumes out of town.   So the place was known to be a smutty, smokey mess, tolerated by residents who referred to the sulfurous stench as the smell of money. On this weekend in October, a thermal inversion put a tighter li...

Covid19 Journey Day 20

April 10, 2020 Today’s idea – Maybe we’ve needed this for a long time.   To be stopped so we could take a long moment and assess what is alive in us and what is mere rote living, what is unnecessary and what really matters; what we carry by empty habit. To know that busier doesn’t make us more worthy- a good work ethic is not to be confused with constant motion.   We’ve needed this to   learn how to be together as family again, to sit together in conversation, to listen to one another, to play and read together, help solve problems even do homework together, cook together, sit around a table again. And to say to each other, here are boundaries, this is okay and that is not okay because we do that for the ones we love. We needed this to understand that isolation can be hard on some people sheltering in place, the abuser with the abused,   those that must shelter alone, those who need consistent home care for a chronic illness or condition, the family receiving h...

Death Might Be Just A Holy Rend

  Death Might Be Just A Holy Rend And life a faithful pillow - a pillow to go flat, a spirit to drift off,  glaciers to melt and raise the sea. The blueprint is clear - Expect a tiny storm of mercy–  full of crows and bottle flies to debride the corpse,  to tithe the land.      And respect the putrid demise - things that fall apart make space for miracles.   Yet there persists the memory of breath rinsed in lavender and salt air. Then the dreams for blood and semen to revive, to metabolize  every tired, sad gospel into a hatch of octopus. Death confesses everything as she conjures her necrosis, as she feigns redemption, fools us with false devotion. She believes our defiance will set her free.   We must let grief to be the thread and needle to darn the rend, renew the cloth. then we can grasp the nascent green of winter wheat in spring.