This is the eighth in the “Out My Window” series about life in the COVID-19 pandemic world.
Twilight Zone
Sometimes it feels like we’ve fallen into some old episode of The Twilight Zone. I go out and see folks going about their normal routines. It’s like “The Before Times”; before we ever heard of the Corona-Virus. They’re shopping at Lowes and at Kroger (they never stopped), and they are now even going into restaurants and bars. For many, at least here in the Columbus suburbs, it’s “back to life”. Maybe that’s why Franklin County (Columbus metro) is leading the state in confirmed COVID cases, almost 19000 to Cuyahoga’s (Cleveland) near 14000 (NYT).
It just seems odd. At least facemasks cover the workers and most of the shoppers. And even in the restaurants, as I pass through to get to the patio, the people seated at the tables seem subdued, unsure of what they can or should do. We went to a patio breakfast this morning. An older couple sat at the next table, safely distanced from us. They had their masks on, but there was the furtive, almost threatened look in the older man’s eyes that struck me as he glanced our way.
It’s like a blanket been thrown on the world. Many look at others as the “enemy”, or better put, the “infected”. And their infection could be your own. A cough, a sneeze, a random touch or even just proximity, and you too can be part of the growing millions of Americans diagnosed with COVID-19.
Inshallah
In some ways that’s a club I’d like to join and get it over with. That way, the damage is done, and life in the “real world” can be less tenuous and threatening. But, of course, that all depends on surviving the experience. I’ve had long discussion with my friends, socially distanced of course. Some of them take a laissez faire attitude. In Arabic the word is “Inshallah”. It means, “If Allah wills it,” as if to say that you have no control over what happens. My younger friends tend towards that view. Statistically they can afford to.
But I am a sixty-three year old with multiple “pre-existing conditions”. Sure I’ve put hundreds of miles on my elliptical machine (especially since March), and added hundreds of pushups, sit-ups and other “ups” afterwards. But it doesn’t improve the odds I have if I actually manage to contract the virus. Those odds are still in my favor, but betting my life against a fifteen percent chance of dying ain’t a good bet, at least not for me. And worse, the folks in my “circle” are at higher risk than I. So while I can admire “Inshallah”, I don’t have the luxury of allowing only Allah to control my destiny.
I keep thinking of the stories in the hospitals, of those last few moments when you are running out of air, before the anesthesia and the ventilator. Call you family, tell them you love them: it may be the last chance you have. I’m not looking to die, but concern about death hasn’t been threatening and omnipresent like this before. I’m not an “Inshallah” guy, I choose my risks and accept the responsibilities. And I can’t see choosing this one for me, or my family.
History Rhymes
I went to a family gathering. We are a Jewish, Irish, German agglomeration, so hugging is in our genetic disposition. But we remained socially distant, wary of closing the gaps, of crossing the defined familial circles of contact. It was nothing if not weird. Who thought we, the United States, one of the most modern nations in the world, would ever be like this?
I read about the Flu Pandemic of 1918 (really, not 1917, and definitely not World War II, Mr. President). While medicine struggled to treat the disease, they had a pretty clear idea how to prevent it. Masks, hand washing, and social distancing: 102 years ago it was the same equation we are trying to follow today.
While we are distant from that time, their struggles are echoed in our own tumultuous response to COVID-19. There were “anti-maskers” back then. And, amusingly I guess, there were compromisers then too. There were the “gentlemen” who wore masks because they were required to, but punched a hole for their cigar or cigarette in the center of the mask. Somehow, it didn’t prevent infection as well. Who’d figure that?
It’s just like the guy at Kroger with the mask somehow framing his beard, but leaving his nose and mouth uncovered. I guess we won’t be getting bed bugs or fleas from him.
Our Own Work
So many life-altering decisions are occurring, many in contradiction. The Big 10 won’t play fall sports. Here in Columbus though, most people somehow have faith that “THE BUCKEYES” will take the field anyway. They can’t imagine that life has really changed that much: no football Saturdays, no tailgates, no family gathered around the TV singing Carmen Ohio. All of them are “spreader” events for the virus. Just like sending kids to school.
But the kids are still practicing at the local high school. Whatever health officials say, the politicians aren’t willing to stand between a high school senior’s Mom and her child’s game, at least, not yet.
Inshallah is not the answer. We’ve known what that answer is all along: close life down, control the spread, open carefully, and wait until a vaccine can provide immunity. But instead, we’ve gone into a political Twilight Zone, where common sense is overrun by campaign rhetoric. Allah may or may not be willing, but America will have to come to terms with the virus, or pay the price with the sacrifice of thousands more lives.
There is another old phrase: “God protects fools, drunkards, and the United States of America”. We’ve depended on that protection in this crisis, and it hasn’t worked. As President Kennedy said: “Here on Earth, God’s work must truly be our own”.
