I suspect the coronavirus—the pandemic—is top of mind for all of us.
“Breaking News” flashes across my television and my phone with a regularity that only contributes to my anxiety. And, yes, I am anxious as I look at the impact in other countries and recognize the dearth of preparation in the United States to address this dire situation.
My email is full of messages from sources as diverse as my DC Council representative, Walmart, TDBank, and the Kennedy Center. Everyone is reminding me of what to do to keep myself and others safe during this national/international emergency. The number one recommendation—social distancing—has become a common term. Stay at home, away from crowds, is the preferred practice.
Before we isolate ourselves, we must get ready, an action that often involves being in crowded situations. I noticed something last week as I negotiated grocery store aisles packed with shoppers (no real distancing then!). People were friendlier, Christmas friendly. It wasn’t exactly a festive air, but there was a kindness that seemed to permeate every grocery store or pharmacy I visited. There was a chattiness, helpfulness, a genuine “we’re all in this together” sense of community. I like that. It feels good.
And I’ve realized something else. I’m not concerned about the prospect of being in my home for two weeks, a month or longer. Well, I am an introvert, but it’s more than that. I have food, television, music, books and I have my friends. No, these aren’t imaginary friends. I haven’t gone off the deep end yet. I have friends with whom I am connected via social media.
Experts talk a lot about how we have already self-isolated because we focus more on social media than pure social interaction, direct one-to-one contact with people. I believe that some, particularly young folks, may go overboard with their level of attention to Snapchat, Instagram, or whatever platform draws them in. But I see the benefits/the positives. Facebook and Instagram are my preferred sites. Posts from my friends offer glimpses into their worlds. It’s not the same connection as sitting for hours over a glass of wine in a favorite restaurant. Still, the back-and-forth on Facebook and introducing new views and experiences into the “conversation” offers a one-on-one connection.
As a person in the high-risk category for coronavirus, I am mindful of what will keep me safe. I won’t attend anything where there are crowds. My exposure will be limited to the grocery store, and I hope there won’t be much of a need for that. I will take walks, read, watch movies, Facebook with friends, and settle into a quieter life. The seriousness of this situation must stay somewhat in the background — just for now; so I can stay centered and calm. But, please know … I am concerned about hourly wage workers – many of whom are black and brown — who are being negatively affected by the canceling of sporting and major entertainment events and the closing, or significant shortening of hours, of restaurants and other venues. I am concerned about the health status of Lyft and Uber drivers. And worried about school children, so many of whom have their healthiest (and perhaps only) meals at school and who may not have the technology at home to enable their access to online education. I am extremely concerned about the declaration of a national emergency that places somewhat uncontrollable power into the hands of the president. That concerns me a lot.
The coronavirus is our shared enemy, and people come together when there is a shared enemy. I will rely on my friends to keep me centered, sane, and in community with them. I will depend on the rationality and public policy expertise of elected officials (and their staffs) to address our national response to this disease in a manner that is science-based and human-centered. I will rely on the kindness of strangers—tall ones—to get that last box of penne pasta I can see on the top shelf but can’t reach. And I will cheer on folks like the multiple NBA players and the team owners who have said they will pay for arena workers’ salaries while the stadiums are closed. And I applaud the members of philanthropy—my former professional community—who are asking what philanthropy can do as they adjust restrictions on grants and thoughtfully consider how to best support their grantees and the people they serve.
I know that examples of greed and insensitivity have popped up during this emergency. I suspect more will come, but I hope that kindness, friendship, and understanding will predominate. I hope that as serious and deadly as this pandemic is… in the aftermath and as we go through it, we all learn something and realize we—all people—are part of the greater whole. Show compassion and treat each other well.
When speaking at the dinner, Carolyn Mosby, one of the few African American faculty at John Marshall, said to the group, “tonight we will throw back any regrets, any dislikes, any old grudges.” In those words, she acknowledged that many of the black students had felt prejudice, discrimination, aloofness, racism during our time at John Marshall High School, and acknowledged that some white students, consciously or unconsciously, through words or actions, may have hurt their black fellow students. That was real, but she wanted us to move on. Ever the teacher, she was helping us bridge any racial chasms that had existed and to recognize the passage of time.
