I have maintained this blog for over ten years; I have put over three hundred articles onto the internet over this period. At this moment, people all over the world might well be reading posts dating from as far back as 2010. This site has received many hits and comments--not all of them favorable. In ten years I will be in my mid-eighties; in 20 years, well, you can figure that out. In 30 years, well, you can figure where I'll be then, as well--most likely ganz und gar von der Erde verschwunden, ein Haufen Asche in einem Aschenhof. Sorry.
I assume, I might be wrong, that people will still be reading some of these articles occasionally. long after I'm gone, provided that Google doesn't ever erase me from its databank. Oh, I suppose I'll make a disk and bury it in a time machine--do people still do that? No, of course not.
So I thought I'd write a blog entry or two addressed to readers in the future. How did old folks manage during the coronavirus pandemic in the spring of 2020? You don't know what Covid-19 was? Google it, or ask one of your robots programmed to relate life way back when an Orange Red-Hatted Booby was president of the United States. (I'd love to read a future account of the reign of number 45. Good God, maybe the consensus will be that he indeed made America great again, but I doubt it. I'm reminded of an old film by Woody Allen where a visitor from the future watched a contemporary show about the benefits of eating salad and then asked, "Didn't they know about fudge?")
We have been told by Dr. Fauci, the current Director of NIH, to hunker down and stay home. We have no idea how extensive the epidemic is in the United States, since our dear leader played down the extent of the problem, since he felt this would damage his chances for reelection. Very few tests have been available so far, and I for one have no idea when they will be readily obtainable in the U.S. as they are now in Europe and elsewhere.
Now that from your perspective, dear future reader, the problem everyone is so worried about now is a thing of the past, you might have forgotten how all this started, so allow me to refresh your memory. First evidence of Covid-19 occurred in China in the last month of 2019. Since then, there have been about 170,000 cases and 6,500 deaths worldwide. Most people recover, but the elderly and those with underlying health conditions are at a much higher risk for serious complications, i.e. respiratory distress and, when worse comes to worst, death.
As of this writing, there are over 2,000 documented cases in the United States, but this statistic is misleading, since testing has been only minimally available. Testing, one hopes, will increase in the coming weeks.
How does it feel to be confined to one's home for who knows how long? Like a mouse behind a wainscot which separates its boredom from a roomful of cats? Already old, I feel like I'm in a nursing home. At least I'm in my own house!
The increasing virusstorm has had an even worse effect than an approaching snowstorm: members of the most destructive species on earth have descended on grocery stores like hordes of locusts. Shelves were soon empty where hours before essentials such as milk, bread and toilet paper were present. (Toilet paper? How many rolls does one need? My son recently installed a toilet bidet, so we need very little of this commodity. As an Indian/Indianized couple we never needed much of that stuff anyway).
My son Philip came over today, and was a great help. Oh, you people of the future, I can handle the fact that Entropy, by the time some of you read this, has done me in--but, you indifferent, interminable ticker, I wish you had left my son and wife alone!
All the things we are busy with today will pass away like the scent of the last rose of summer on a breezy autumn day. For instance, my wife Nirmala is still busy entering patient data into the computer--yes, she is still a practicing pediatrician. We plan to close the office for a week or so to do our part to prevent the virus from spreading.
I know what you're thinking: we're overreacting. By the time you read this, this crisis may well be forgotten. And, no doubt, you are probably dealing with something far worse: the ravages of climate change. For your sake, I hope that science has come up with something to mitigate that terrible legacy of my generation. If there has been no progress in this regard, I wonder if you are reading this from Mars?
To be continued.
I assume, I might be wrong, that people will still be reading some of these articles occasionally. long after I'm gone, provided that Google doesn't ever erase me from its databank. Oh, I suppose I'll make a disk and bury it in a time machine--do people still do that? No, of course not.
So I thought I'd write a blog entry or two addressed to readers in the future. How did old folks manage during the coronavirus pandemic in the spring of 2020? You don't know what Covid-19 was? Google it, or ask one of your robots programmed to relate life way back when an Orange Red-Hatted Booby was president of the United States. (I'd love to read a future account of the reign of number 45. Good God, maybe the consensus will be that he indeed made America great again, but I doubt it. I'm reminded of an old film by Woody Allen where a visitor from the future watched a contemporary show about the benefits of eating salad and then asked, "Didn't they know about fudge?")
We have been told by Dr. Fauci, the current Director of NIH, to hunker down and stay home. We have no idea how extensive the epidemic is in the United States, since our dear leader played down the extent of the problem, since he felt this would damage his chances for reelection. Very few tests have been available so far, and I for one have no idea when they will be readily obtainable in the U.S. as they are now in Europe and elsewhere.
Now that from your perspective, dear future reader, the problem everyone is so worried about now is a thing of the past, you might have forgotten how all this started, so allow me to refresh your memory. First evidence of Covid-19 occurred in China in the last month of 2019. Since then, there have been about 170,000 cases and 6,500 deaths worldwide. Most people recover, but the elderly and those with underlying health conditions are at a much higher risk for serious complications, i.e. respiratory distress and, when worse comes to worst, death.
As of this writing, there are over 2,000 documented cases in the United States, but this statistic is misleading, since testing has been only minimally available. Testing, one hopes, will increase in the coming weeks.
How does it feel to be confined to one's home for who knows how long? Like a mouse behind a wainscot which separates its boredom from a roomful of cats? Already old, I feel like I'm in a nursing home. At least I'm in my own house!
The increasing virusstorm has had an even worse effect than an approaching snowstorm: members of the most destructive species on earth have descended on grocery stores like hordes of locusts. Shelves were soon empty where hours before essentials such as milk, bread and toilet paper were present. (Toilet paper? How many rolls does one need? My son recently installed a toilet bidet, so we need very little of this commodity. As an Indian/Indianized couple we never needed much of that stuff anyway).
My son Philip came over today, and was a great help. Oh, you people of the future, I can handle the fact that Entropy, by the time some of you read this, has done me in--but, you indifferent, interminable ticker, I wish you had left my son and wife alone!
All the things we are busy with today will pass away like the scent of the last rose of summer on a breezy autumn day. For instance, my wife Nirmala is still busy entering patient data into the computer--yes, she is still a practicing pediatrician. We plan to close the office for a week or so to do our part to prevent the virus from spreading.
I know what you're thinking: we're overreacting. By the time you read this, this crisis may well be forgotten. And, no doubt, you are probably dealing with something far worse: the ravages of climate change. For your sake, I hope that science has come up with something to mitigate that terrible legacy of my generation. If there has been no progress in this regard, I wonder if you are reading this from Mars?
To be continued.
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