A week ago, we drove home from Florida in somewhat strange circumstances. Our plans had changed dramatically since we first embarked on an extended vacation. Our planned stop at a casino in Mississippi was cancelled due to the closing of all casinos. Everywhere we stopped for food, we were told we could carry food out, but not sit down in the dining room. In Huntsville, our plans for two days of basketball excess during the NCAA Tournament with Kristin and Kevin transformed into card games at home, since there was no tournament. Our anticipation of the opening of baseball season was cut short abruptly.
Perhaps the most surreal moment came in Illinois when we were staying in a hotel. We stopped in a local Walmart near the hotel to pick up a few things, and it was like the circus had come to town. We had been pretty isolated for two weeks and had avoided all crowds, but this place was jammed. Some had masks on, while others had grubby T-shirts pulled up over their mouths (Yeah, that will help). I saw several Amish people shopping there, for TVs and I-Phones, I presume. People waited in line with carts full of toilet paper. In the parking lot as we headed out to our car, we saw a man with a surgical mask. That’s fine, except that his mask was pulled down to his chin, and he had a cigarette dangling from his lower lip. At least his chin was protected.
We have been pressed into extra duty taking care of the grandkids while Ben and Amber, both doctors, work at the clinic. We worry about them and what could happen if they are exposed to the virus repeatedly. They are being extremely cautious, however, and have not yet had to deal with any cases of Covid-19. The weather has warmed up, and the last of the snow finally melted away, so I have been taking the kids on hikes through the woods that border the golf course near us. We have collected bags full of lost golf balls and recyclable trash that we have found. We also taught them how to play Hearts and Spades, and they are getting pretty good. Lucas, the six-year-old, can’t read yet, and he can’t fan out 13 cards in his tiny hands, but he sure knows how to make an accurate bid on a Spades hand. This week was actually their spring break, so we have let them relax and play most of the time. Next week, though, our classes begin. I hope they are ready for AP-level history classes and some intense PE workouts. Their other grandparents just returned from a cruise, so Amber has had them in quarantine for two weeks. They will finally get to see the kids on Sunday.
The number of people that have lost their jobs nationally is staggering. Something like 3.3 million new jobless claims were filed last week, six times the old one-week record from 1982. You can’t imagine what a gut-punch that is for individuals and families that have done everything right, but now have to wonder what they will do in the future. I distinctly remember the 1982 event, because I was laid off from my factory job. That economic slump was what economists call the “Reagan Recession” when drastic cutbacks in government spending caused many businesses to shut down or reduce their workforces. I remember that Monday morning after the layoffs, waiting in a long line at the unemployment office with my dad and my brother, Dan. Dan and I were young and single, we lived together, and we figured we’d get by. But my dad was in his mid-fifties, with an 8th-grade education, few skills, and with several children still living at home. As we waited in the cold, I looked at his face and saw fear there for the only time in my life. I recall that look today and imagine it on 3.3 million faces.
Yesterday morning, it was in the forties and sunny, so I took a long walk down the river and along Main Street. I didn’t encounter a single other walker, biker, or jogger, despite the magnificent weather. Downtown was deserted, with all restaurants forced convert to carry-out business in order to stay alive. I recently saw an interview with a guy who hosts one of those cooking shows on TV. He predicted that 75% of all independent restaurants will never re-open, explaining that most of those businesses barely survive in the best of times. If he is right, all of those jobs associated with small businesses will also disappear. Those thoughts ran through my head as I walked past a restaurant called the Copper Kettle near the university. We had eaten there once and found it to be a warm, friendly, family sort of place. As I wondered if they’d be able to weather this storm, I noticed the marquee above the door and got chills. It said, “Building for Sale” with a phone number. It has already started. If you read any of my early blogs, you know that I have been completely charmed by this wonderful little town. One of its most attractive features is that small, family-owned businesses have thrived here, while few corporate entities operate in town. I am saddened as I wonder how long that situation will continue and what that might mean for the character of this terrific place.
As a feeling of disbelief and helplessness enters each of my virus-related conversations with Kathleen, we ask ourselves what we can do. All I can suggest is do something. If you can, donate money to some local charity. We have sent a check to our food bank in town. They normally accept non-perishable food items, but because of fears about the virus, they are requesting money instead. Support a local business. We have decided that at least twice a week, we will order take-out from a local restaurant. This will be a little inconvenient, and it will cost more than cooking our own meals, but, if enough people do this, it might help other businesses from going the way of the Copper Kettle. Reach out to your elderly neighbors who might be afraid to venture into stores. They might need supplies of food, and you can make a shopping run for them. These are small things, but this is the time for us to help each other. Please use the comments space if you have further suggestions on what we can do to help.
Finally, stay safe and take care of your families. Conversations with Ben and Amber have impressed upon me the danger of this thing. Listen to the actual scientists such as Dr. Fauci and the doctors and nurses on television. Our President, who is primarily interested in posturing and boasting about his imaginary achievements, has actually made things worse by denying the truth and giving statements that are dangerously misleading at best, outright lies at worst. Practice social distancing, hand-washing, and all of those other things that seemed so silly a few weeks ago. We’ll get through this crisis, but we’ll have to lean on each other in order to do so.