May 1, 2020
Today’s
observation – May 1, Beltane marks about six weeks since the ripples of
lockdown and tucking in really began to wash over us. I got my last good hug on
March 26 with family farewells as I returned to school. Today I was invited to a
gathering of friends. We decided that we are a cohort (or bio-bubble in time of
coronavirus), the latest communal model adapted for these times of extended
social distancing. We think of these prophylactic affiliations as a temporary
modification that will be unnecessary soon when we can get back to normal. If
zoonic viral outbreaks grow more commonplace as we continue to encroach and exploit
wild spaces, it could develop into a factor of social evolution over a decade
or two, as we implicitly pass it on as the best option to the next generation. I
can see it now, new language markers for behavior before and after
coronavirus. In the days when we
co-mingled into every size of a crowd with impunity, that time will be BCV before
coronavirus. In the age of gathering only in small cohorts, with safe
social distancing, we’ll refer to as ACV, after coronavirus. And the
demarcation date will be March 2020. But I digress, and that is the beauty of
journaling.
Beltane
is a pleasure festival, the one when we are expected to push caution aside for
caprice. It’s been six weeks, and the greening of our world imbued with such
balmy weather has drawn us out like caddisflies emerging from their cases or kangaroo
babies crawling up into our mother’s pouch. And it’s Friday! Instinctually, we yearn to circulate and socialize,
comparing notes from the week and sharing commentary of the times. Still, I was
fretful at the thought of this hanging out with friends as I ventured amateurishly
into my new cohort. The loosely aligned friend-family
has organically grown out of historical affiliations, we are all Central Utah academic
refugees who have moved to Southeast Iowa. The cohort’s glue is a pack of kids
who grew up together on a boarding school campus; their affiliated adults were
all faculty of that school. Now we orbit another campus together, a reconfiguration
of an intentional community.
Our
RN in the cohort has been sharing her hospital experiences and told us that
Covid cases dropped by half this week. This
news sounds like the first infection curve could be flattening, but reading the
stats, it doesn’t feel so. Today there
are seven hundred and fifty-seven new cases and seven more deaths. Most of the
new cases came from three counties with meat processing plants. Say what you
will, but the graph is still on an upward incline. I want to maintain the course
of action recommended by medical researchers, the one that says exercise great
caution and hygiene, especially in the commons. I have a lot of company. This is the weekend that restaurants can
reopen their dining rooms with social distancing protocols and mask-wearing.
How does one enjoy dinner out wearing a mask?
I don’t think restaurant owners are keen on doing more than take-out at
this point. Let the governor and her
cabinet dine out first.
Our
cohort soiree is al fresco in a big back yard, adults circled up in plastic
lawn chairs, and the kids are tossing a football or jumping on the trampoline. The scene feels like a perfect May Day evening
in the twilight zone.
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