1.
This is my second entry addressed to readers of the future. Perhaps not even born yet as I write this, should you find this needle in the haystack of a future generation, I hope you will be able to use it as a stylus; hope it will be able to play this little record of the Covid-19 pandemic of 2020. First, I'd like to ask you a few questions about the future.
Is Greta Thunberg revered as a secular saint by your generation, much as Harriet Tubman and Martin Luther King are by mine? Is greed, hate, and delusion as prevalent in your age as it is in ours? Have Miami, Bangkok and the entire nation of Bangladesh gone the way of Atlantis? Are there still giraffes?
A recent study from London predicted there might be over two million deaths from Covid-19 in the United States, if rapid action is not taken. "Rapid action" to combat a disease for which at present there is no treatment or vaccine, means, well, hibernating, (for now) a voluntary withdrawal from daily activities and staying at home for who knows how long. What we are trying to do is neatly summarized by this illustration:
If we stay out of circulation, the curve of infections will flatten, and lives will be saved. Since Covid-19 tends to be benign in the young and much more deadly in the elderly, it's hard to imagine that young people, so used to action, will accept Lewis Carroll's dictum, "Don't just do something, stand there!" Who need to be protected are older persons, a category that has included my wife and me for a long time. I have my doubts that this will be done; this isn't China. For instance, we live in a neighborhood mostly populated by young families and the middle-aged. No one has ever asked us how we're doing or if we need anything. At the moment, though, things are good. (BTW, how did we die?)
Thank God for my son, who checks in on us frequently.
2.
Having been retired for several years, I am perhaps better able to manage my time at home than most. (Do I have cabin fever? Indeed. The gym is closed. Aargh!) I spend my time reading, writing, playing the piano, listening to music, listening to silence, etc. Lately, I have been playing, This Ole House, Rosemary Clooney's hit from 1954. (Why not listen to it on YouTube--do you still have YouTube? Perhaps what you have is thought-initiated?)
Here are the lyrics:
This ole house once knew his children
This ole house once knew his wife
This ole house was home and comfort
as they fought the storms of life
This ole house once rang with laughter
This ole house heard many shouts
Now he trembles in the darkness
When the lightning walks about
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
Ain't gonna need this house no more
Ain't got time to fix the shingles
Ain't got time to fix the floor
Ain't got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend the widow pane
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
He's a gettin' ready to meet the saints.
Playing this upbeat classic in downbeat times, I began singing my own lyrics:
When septuagenarians sniffle,
will they get out of the rain
Will they sing when no one's watching
Will they dance without a cane
Will they dare to go out shopping
And buy up all the bread
Remember us! We're laughing
Even though we'll soon be dead.
Ain't gonna need this mouth no longer
Ain't gonna need this mind no more
Ain't no time to eschew strudel
Ain't no time to vote for war
Ain't no time to vex my noodle
Over things that pinch and hurt
Ain't gonna need my flesh no longer
Gettin' ready to meet my fate.
Well, if I do meet the saints today, I sure hope they tell me, "Get the *** back to Baltimore--this is not your time!" Yet.
3.
As of today, 3/18/2020, there are over five thousand documented cases of the coronavirus in the U.S., and about one hundred deaths. Even the Orange Red-Hatted booby is getting serious. He plans a huge stimulus and is considering mailing checks to various sectors of the population. His words, however, are trustworthy as a parrot's.
Nirmala worked half-day today. She will finish the week on a curtailed schedule, and close her office down completely for the week after that. Good news.
In Italy, there are over 31,000 cases and over 2,500 deaths, mostly among the old. The health system is swamped; already there are not enough respirators. The cemeteries, especially in the north of the country, are swamped as well. Funerals are not permitted at this time.
Our president claimed today that he knew it would be an epidemic all along. Jan. 22: "We have it totally under control. It's one person coming in from China, and we have it totally under control. It's going to be just fine."
In this first-third world country of ours, we still have no idea how extensive the outbreak is; testing is still far away from being widely available.
Everything's closed: libraries, theaters, movie houses, many businesses, etc. Pharmacies and supermarkets, many with empty shelves remain open. We heard of a case of an elderly couple who were afraid to leave their car. They called over a young person, gave her their shopping list and a hundred dollars. The kind woman soon brought back two bags full of food. We're not that frightened yet; maybe we should be.
We're reliving Boccaccio's Decameron, updated nearly 700 years later. Instead of ten aristocrats escaping the plague, then raging in Florence, for a sojourn of storytelling in a more salubrious environment, we are millions of people, a whole country, living under house arrest. No sense heading for the hills to escape this virus. Instead, we head for the couch, stream a movie, sip whatever, discuss the weather, wriggle a bit, then shut up. We old folks, however, still read.
To be continued.
This is my second entry addressed to readers of the future. Perhaps not even born yet as I write this, should you find this needle in the haystack of a future generation, I hope you will be able to use it as a stylus; hope it will be able to play this little record of the Covid-19 pandemic of 2020. First, I'd like to ask you a few questions about the future.
Is Greta Thunberg revered as a secular saint by your generation, much as Harriet Tubman and Martin Luther King are by mine? Is greed, hate, and delusion as prevalent in your age as it is in ours? Have Miami, Bangkok and the entire nation of Bangladesh gone the way of Atlantis? Are there still giraffes?
A recent study from London predicted there might be over two million deaths from Covid-19 in the United States, if rapid action is not taken. "Rapid action" to combat a disease for which at present there is no treatment or vaccine, means, well, hibernating, (for now) a voluntary withdrawal from daily activities and staying at home for who knows how long. What we are trying to do is neatly summarized by this illustration:
If we stay out of circulation, the curve of infections will flatten, and lives will be saved. Since Covid-19 tends to be benign in the young and much more deadly in the elderly, it's hard to imagine that young people, so used to action, will accept Lewis Carroll's dictum, "Don't just do something, stand there!" Who need to be protected are older persons, a category that has included my wife and me for a long time. I have my doubts that this will be done; this isn't China. For instance, we live in a neighborhood mostly populated by young families and the middle-aged. No one has ever asked us how we're doing or if we need anything. At the moment, though, things are good. (BTW, how did we die?)
Thank God for my son, who checks in on us frequently.
2.
Having been retired for several years, I am perhaps better able to manage my time at home than most. (Do I have cabin fever? Indeed. The gym is closed. Aargh!) I spend my time reading, writing, playing the piano, listening to music, listening to silence, etc. Lately, I have been playing, This Ole House, Rosemary Clooney's hit from 1954. (Why not listen to it on YouTube--do you still have YouTube? Perhaps what you have is thought-initiated?)
Here are the lyrics:
This ole house once knew his children
This ole house once knew his wife
This ole house was home and comfort
as they fought the storms of life
This ole house once rang with laughter
This ole house heard many shouts
Now he trembles in the darkness
When the lightning walks about
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
Ain't gonna need this house no more
Ain't got time to fix the shingles
Ain't got time to fix the floor
Ain't got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend the widow pane
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
He's a gettin' ready to meet the saints.
Playing this upbeat classic in downbeat times, I began singing my own lyrics:
When septuagenarians sniffle,
will they get out of the rain
Will they sing when no one's watching
Will they dance without a cane
Will they dare to go out shopping
And buy up all the bread
Remember us! We're laughing
Even though we'll soon be dead.
Ain't gonna need this mouth no longer
Ain't gonna need this mind no more
Ain't no time to eschew strudel
Ain't no time to vote for war
Ain't no time to vex my noodle
Over things that pinch and hurt
Ain't gonna need my flesh no longer
Gettin' ready to meet my fate.
Well, if I do meet the saints today, I sure hope they tell me, "Get the *** back to Baltimore--this is not your time!" Yet.
3.
As of today, 3/18/2020, there are over five thousand documented cases of the coronavirus in the U.S., and about one hundred deaths. Even the Orange Red-Hatted booby is getting serious. He plans a huge stimulus and is considering mailing checks to various sectors of the population. His words, however, are trustworthy as a parrot's.
Nirmala worked half-day today. She will finish the week on a curtailed schedule, and close her office down completely for the week after that. Good news.
In Italy, there are over 31,000 cases and over 2,500 deaths, mostly among the old. The health system is swamped; already there are not enough respirators. The cemeteries, especially in the north of the country, are swamped as well. Funerals are not permitted at this time.
Our president claimed today that he knew it would be an epidemic all along. Jan. 22: "We have it totally under control. It's one person coming in from China, and we have it totally under control. It's going to be just fine."
In this first-third world country of ours, we still have no idea how extensive the outbreak is; testing is still far away from being widely available.
Everything's closed: libraries, theaters, movie houses, many businesses, etc. Pharmacies and supermarkets, many with empty shelves remain open. We heard of a case of an elderly couple who were afraid to leave their car. They called over a young person, gave her their shopping list and a hundred dollars. The kind woman soon brought back two bags full of food. We're not that frightened yet; maybe we should be.
We're reliving Boccaccio's Decameron, updated nearly 700 years later. Instead of ten aristocrats escaping the plague, then raging in Florence, for a sojourn of storytelling in a more salubrious environment, we are millions of people, a whole country, living under house arrest. No sense heading for the hills to escape this virus. Instead, we head for the couch, stream a movie, sip whatever, discuss the weather, wriggle a bit, then shut up. We old folks, however, still read.
To be continued.
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