Because I had read John Barry’s The Great Influenza about 1918 (2x, actually), my perspective was different than just about anyone else I knew… except for Anthony Fauci’s, of course. In 1918, death in that pandemic was generally violent and… loud… often the body expressing fluids excruciatingly painfully and explosively, Ebola like, sometimes suddenly… like while waiting for a street car. None of this silent, almost invisible stuff, death while intubated in an ICU. I wish people like Sen Rand Paul had read it, too, so he could understand what the NIH feared could happen. In 1918, the youth were particularly vulnerable, their very vibrant immune systems used by the virus as the primary weapon of mortality, just the opposite of COVID. As an author, Barry does an excellent job describing how whatever the issue is… in this case, the pandemic… integrates with what is happening culturally and politically. Anyway, like everyone, Sally started working from home. We bought gobs of fresh flowers (surprisingly helpful), set up a table just inside our 8th floor condo patio overlooking the street, had a whisky drink cocktail before dinner every night while literally lighting a candle for those we knew were ill or struggling, and went on long walks. My prior happenstance reading Barry and others had left me more sanguine about what we were facing, but not much. It will be interesting to see how he describes this one, especially its ramifications on our politics… if, that is, the Politburo allows him to publish it.
But two things are absolutely true today: we are still learning what the damage was/is and we are tragically less, not better, prepared for the next one.
Prepared or not in 2020, I know we all had our own out of body experiences. For sometime now, I’ve had this… not really sure what to call it… the simultaneous nature of the circle of life(?)… finding two events taking place at the same moment in time… like, at exactly the same instant Pfc Millard Proffitt from Texas had his life tragically taken on DDay in Normandy, France, somewhere, maybe in a wheat field in Kansas, USA, a young couple in were feeling the ecstasy of making love. I guess the Universe keeps up with these things? More TBD later, maybe…
But I get where you are coming from, absolutely. It’s something I think most of us can identify with.
Because I had read John Barry’s The Great Influenza about 1918 (2x, actually), my perspective was different than just about anyone else I knew… except for Anthony Fauci’s, of course. In 1918, death in that pandemic was generally violent and… loud… often the body expressing fluids excruciatingly painfully and explosively, Ebola like, sometimes suddenly… like while waiting for a street car. None of this silent, almost invisible stuff, death while intubated in an ICU. I wish people like Sen Rand Paul had read it, too, so he could understand what the NIH feared could happen. In 1918, the youth were particularly vulnerable, their very vibrant immune systems used by the virus as the primary weapon of mortality, just the opposite of COVID. As an author, Barry does an excellent job describing how whatever the issue is… in this case, the pandemic… integrates with what is happening culturally and politically. Anyway, like everyone, Sally started working from home. We bought gobs of fresh flowers (surprisingly helpful), set up a table just inside our 8th floor condo patio overlooking the street, had a whisky drink cocktail before dinner every night while literally lighting a candle for those we knew were ill or struggling, and went on long walks. My prior happenstance reading Barry and others had left me more sanguine about what we were facing, but not much. It will be interesting to see how he describes this one, especially its ramifications on our politics… if, that is, the Politburo allows him to publish it.
But two things are absolutely true today: we are still learning what the damage was/is and we are tragically less, not better, prepared for the next one.
Prepared or not in 2020, I know we all had our own out of body experiences. For sometime now, I’ve had this… not really sure what to call it… the simultaneous nature of the circle of life(?)… finding two events taking place at the same moment in time… like, at exactly the same instant Pfc Millard Proffitt from Texas had his life tragically taken on DDay in Normandy, France, somewhere, maybe in a wheat field in Kansas, USA, a young couple in were feeling the ecstasy of making love. I guess the Universe keeps up with these things? More TBD later, maybe…
But I get where you are coming from, absolutely. It’s something I think most of us can identify with.
As usual, great, soulful writing. Thank you!