So much of our lives change overnight when pandemic strikes – from the small routines like stopping for coffee or going grocery shopping, to life events like weddings, funerals, and the upcoming Easter season. Each night, local and national news is filled with statistics, updates on where the disease is hitting hardest, how people are coping, what new information is available that we should know. I’m becoming overwhelmed.
I was thinking the other day about churches and how they’ll prepare. As a former church musician – organist and choir director, I can only imagine the void in these peoples’ lives. We’d have extended rehearsals, new music, and literally a full week of ceremonies and services. I found myself at the church almost every night of Holy Week. There are television broadcasts for us now, but that’s not quite the same as being there. Even the broadcasts from the Vatican or the National Cathedral probably won’t happen this year. It will all be done in studios meant to replicate churches, with no worshipers and a skeleton group of clergy and production crew.
My neighbor across the street was taken out of his house this past week in an ambulance. I just spoke to him on the phone, and he’s scheduled for heart surgery on Monday. Even his wife and daughter were not allowed in the hospital during the procedure. I was communicating with a friend and colleague. She’d emailed me about something, and her message broke my heart. It was a particularly hard day for them because they’d had to cancel arrangements for her son’s wedding. You can’t postpone at this point because, well, how far out is far enough out? Our daughter’s graduation this spring at Boston University, as are presumably all graduations and commencements set for the spring, joins the long list of “event” casualties to which so many families have been looking forward and for which they’ve been planning.
Just a simple run to the grocery store is an adventure. Will we find what we need there? It seems that all of the toilet paper producers have shut down for some reason. Either that or people are stockpiling cases upon cases in their garages just in case . . . . . of what? It is almost amusing to see what is missing from the shelves. Chicken is just returning, so we must have slaughtered every chicken in North America a few weeks back and consumed them en masse. I found a container of sanitary wipes left over at some point from my office at school. I brought them up and have been using them. Looked at them today and there, say right across the label, is says “anti-bacterial”. That will be truly useful with a virus, particularly one as slippery as this one is. Oh, well, it does make me feel better to use them around the house on door handles, phones, computer keyboard. You get the picture. I should add that my hands are becoming wrinkly and dried – but that’s a small price to pay.
On the happy side of disasters such as these, we hear too about a constant stream of truly wonderful people doing truly heroic things. People sewing facemasks. Children finding ways to communicate with each other while they’re not in school. My niece, a music teacher in an elementary school, has posted a delightful series of interactive music lessons on YouTube for her students and anyone else that wants to join in. Broadcasters, entertainers, athletes, and musicians across the country are stepping up to keep us encouraged with messages of hope and inspiration. We did take-out from a local restaurant to support them, and the parking lot was full of people doing the same. I hope that they, and others like them, survive. Many eating establishments, without regard to profit, are providing meals for those that are quarantined, first responders, medical personal, or older folks that can’t get out. These food providers are the ones that really should get a lion’s share of the stimulus money.
Nightly, we see lessons that children are giving us in generosity. A little boy in New Orleans that dresses up in a cape and brings sandwiches to homeless people. Another that is making small toys to sell, giving the money to charity. The president at a podium telling us we’re the greatest nation doesn’t somehow pack much of a punch. But these people helping others any way they can do remind me. America has an enormous capacity for giving freely. We’ve seen this time after time. An athlete and his wife in Seattle giving a million meals to those in need. Another in Houston who is always at the forefront of charitable giving when disasters strike. When hurricanes or tornados strike. When forest fires devastate a region. When rivers large and small overflow their banks, wiping out homes, towns, acres and acres of crops. We as Americans are an endless supply of hope, creativity, and resilience. Musicians find new ways to perform. A family, cousins in western Massachusetts writing letters to hospice patients. A children’s book author hosting a “doodle session” for children on social media. Folks finding ways to take care of neglected and abandoned animals. We’re finding new ways to communicate valuable content on Instagram, Twitter, YouTube, and Facebook. Herself junior and some of her friends held a “virtual happy hour” recently, and she orchestrated a “family game day” on line a couple of weeks ago. Not charitable in the strictest sense, but it gave us everyone a huge lift and a reason to laugh.
I’d like to close with yet another highlight to those Americans, in fact those around the world affected by this disease. They are truly what John F. Kennedy called “Profiles in Courage”. These are the folks facing uncertain futures – they’ve been laid off, their businesses are closed or have been perhaps transformed into charitable organizations. The folks that are responding nobly to the crisis – medical people, law enforcement, the military. They’re responding in ways that they could never have imagined, stretched well beyond what their training and stamina could have prepared them. These folks are in our thoughts and prayers daily as they persevere and carry on. The new super-heros won’t be wearing capes, they’ll be in lab coats, scrubs, and fatigues. Thank you, all.
Stay safe, all of you within my circle of readers.
I'm Thinking...No! 