Breaking The Bad News

We’ve been seeing a lot of our nation’s governors lately.  In Ohio, Governor Mike DeWine has been on TV so much with afternoon announcements about COVID-19 developments that some people are timing their first cocktail with the news conferences and enjoying “Wine with DeWine.”  We’re getting a living reminder of lessons learned during our junior high school civics classes and the fact that we live in a country where the states have significant powers and duties.  When a once-in-a-lifetime crisis like the COVID-19 pandemic hits, governors are put front and center in dealing with all of the issues.

Unfortunately for the nation’s governors, a lot of what they’re doing right now is breaking bad news.  They’re announcing shutdowns and “shelter in place” edicts and other orders and showing small-print graphs and charts that make people upset and anxious.  Nobody except introverts and hermits wants to be cooped up in their houses indefinitely.  But the time durations of these shutdown orders varies widely, from state to state.  In Ohio, I think the initial “stay at home” order covered the period until April 6.  In Virginia, by contrast, the governor just announced a shutdown until June 10 — more than two months longer than the initial Ohio order.

The current situation squarely raises the issue of the best way to break bad news.  Put yourself in the shoes of the governor of your choice.  If you were issuing a shutdown order, would you give your citizens the worst-case scenario — which seems to be the technique used by the Virginia governor — so that they can start to get adjusted to the prospect of being at home for two months?  It’s a kind of “rip the band-aid off” approach, isn’t it?  And, if you take that approach, you can hope that future developments might allow you to shorten that time period and give the residents of the Old Dominion a pleasant spring surprise.

Or, do you proceed in a more incremental way, issuing orders that have a shorter duration, acknowledging that this is a fast changing situation where you need to be responsive to new information?  Of course, all the while you would understand that you might well have to extend your shutdown, perhaps multiple times, and disappoint people who were hoping the current deadline would stick?  In that scenario, you’re doling out the bad news in bite-sized chunks, hoping it might go down easier.

I don’t think there’s any right or wrong answer to this, necessarily.  Some people are band-aid rippers, and others prefer to remove them a fraction at a time.  I’m normally a band-aid ripper, but I think if I were governor during this period I’d take the incremental approach.  We’re still gathering information about the coronavirus and its trajectory, and an incremental approach allows that information to be analyzed and addressed as it comes in, giving the governor the chance to keep the citizens of his or her state updated and abreast of the latest news.  The incremental approach seems a bit more humble and nuanced than the two-month thunderbolt edict issued from the executive.  And who knows?  There may be something to this “Wine with DeWine” thing, too.

Rewriting Right-Of-Way Rules

Our legislators and regulators, on both the federal and state level, have been busy with “big-picture” coronavirus issues.  It’s therefore not surprising that they haven’t yet turned their attention to a small, yet vital area:  namely, determining the right-of-way of pedestrians who are eager to get out of their houses and stretch their legs and who are turning our sidewalks into increasingly clogged traffic arteries.  In short, in this era of social distancing, who gets to stick to the sidewalk, and who must yield and swerve onto the grass or into the street to maintain the six-foot buffer?

Having thought carefully about this crucial issue over the past few days, I offer the following suggestions:

• People pushing baby carriages or strollers have the absolute right-of-way over everyone else because it’s really unreasonable to expect them to veer out into the road or onto grass.  C’mon, folks — that’s just common courtesy!
• People walking with little kids have the right-of-way over everyone except the stroller set.
• People walking overly friendly, excitable dogs who might jump up on other pedestrians must yield to everyone, and probably should just stick to the grass in parks, to be on the safe side.  
• Anyone walking with any kind of coffee cup or container must yield to everyone else on general principles, because they’re clearly not serious about taking a walk in the first place.
• Joggers and runners must yield to any walker, faster walkers must yield to slower walkers, and people approaching other walkers from behind must always yield.
• Single walkers must always yield to walking couples, or groups.
• Younger people must yield to older people, especially the codgers who seem oddly oblivious to the concept of social distancing or who are projecting a “to hell with it all, I’ve got an absolute right as an American to walk on this sidewalk because my taxes paid for it” attitude.
• If yielding hasn’t occurred within 15 feet of passing on a narrow sidewalk, you’ve got to yield irrespective of the rules — because it’s safety first out there, people!

No need to thank me.

Stay-At-Home Cookies

Normally I don’t do much baking after the holidays end, but if a pandemic isn’t a reason to depart from the norm, what is? We’ve taken our daily walk and want to be safe and respectful of social distancing and sheltering in place, and cookies seem like a good stay-at-home activity.

But what to bake? Unlike the holidays, I haven’t gone on a special shopping trip for unusual supplies — and an extended trip to the besieged grocery store for random baking supplies doesn’t seem wise under the circumstances. I’ve examined the cupboards with care, and figured I could make what we’ll call “Stay-At-Home cookies” in honor of our fight against the coronavirus.

Stay-At-Home Cookies

Ingredients: 1 1/4 cup margarine; 1 cup regular sugar; 1 cup brown sugar; 2 eggs; 1 tsp vanilla, 2 cups all-purpose flour; 1 1/2 tsp cinnamon; 1 tsp baking soda; 1 tsp salt; 3 cups uncooked oatmeal; 1 cup chopped nuts; 1/2 cup peanut butter

Combine margarine, sugar, and brown sugar and cream until well blended. Add eggs and vanilla and beat until smooth and creamy. Add in flour, cinnamon, baking soda, and salt; beat until combined. Add in oatmeal, nuts and peanut butter and try to keep your spouse from eating the batter. Try some yourself and admit it is pretty tasty. Drop heaping spoonfuls onto a cookie sheet covered with parchment, then bake at 385 degrees for 12 minutes. Have some more of that tasty dough. Drink a beer or other adult beverage of your choice while baking; preferably while listening to ‘60’s music. Let cookies cool on baking sheet while you enjoy another beer and find yourself dancing to Woolly Bully.

How many cookies this generates depends on how much dough you consume during the batter/beer/Woolly Bully steps.

Changing Lyrics

As I prepared to take my walk this morning, I had to make my music selection.  I decided to go with my “UAHS Rock” playlist, featuring songs from my high school years.  The songs on it are old, obviously, but they are still great favorites.  Who doesn’t still relish the songs from their youth?

When I walked down the steps to the sidewalk, the first song on the playlist began:  Paul McCartney and Wings’ Band on the Run, which was a huge hit during my high school days.  For those who can’t remember them, the lyrics begin like this:

Stuck inside these four walls,
Sent inside forever,
Never seeing no one
Nice again like you,
Mama you, mama you.

If I ever get out of here,
Thought of giving it all away
To a registered charity.
All I need is a pint a day
If I ever get outta here
If we ever get outta of here.

It’s safe to say that I reacted to  those lyrics in a different way this morning, squinting into the bright sunshine as I carefully maintained my “social distance” from everyone else who was walking and jogging outside,  than I did hanging out in the basement of the family home, with the cheap all-in-one stereo unit down there cranked up to intolerable levels, in 1975.  And a few songs later Stevie Wonder’s Superstition came on, and I had a similarly different reaction to this line:  “Very superstitious; wash your face and hands.”

One of the great things about music is that the listener always brings something to the experience, with songs reminding you of high school prom or hanging with your college chums or making you think about this or that.  I wonder how many other songs are going to be thought of differently, forever, as a result of the Shutdown March of 2020?

Keen To Clean

Every year, I feel an urge to do some spring cleaning, and thereby officially heralding the arrival of a favorite season.  This year, being cooped up and working at our kitchen island for days now really brought out the spring cleaning spirit, in steroids. 

I’m not sure if it was feeling guilty about watching a lot of TV during this shut-in period and wanting to compensate by doing something that made me roll up my sleeves, or the fact that I’ve been using the kitchen as my ersatz office so much that it really did need a good cleaning, or perhaps a sense that, with all of the hand-washing and sanitizing going on in the battle against the coronavirus, a good kitchen cleaning might aid the cause, just a bit.  Whatever the reason, I tackled the task of cleaning the kitchen with gusto: scrubbing the sink, the cabinets, the countertops, the stovetop, the oven, and the refrigerator, wiping down our appliances, sweeping the floor, and getting the windows, too.  I tried to clean every crack and crevice, and even emptied and wiped down the crumb tray in the toaster.

When I finished I felt good about my efforts, as I always do when I do a household chore.  The kitchen looked clean — for now, at least — and I could almost feel Mom’s spirit hovering in the air, nodding approvingly.

The smell of ammonia in the air — sniff! — smells like victory.

Ocean Bound?

We’re going to do some doing spring cleaning today, and when I got out our cleaning supplies I did a double-take at the Windex bottle. Does anyone else read “ocean bound plastic” to mean plastic bound for the ocean, as I originally did? Instead, it apparently is supposed to mean that the bottle is made of plastic taken from the ocean — which is a novel usage of “bound” in my experience.

Regardless of the proper use of “bound,” if I were a manufacturer of products that come in plastic bottles, I’m not sure I’d be reminding people of how much plastic ends up polluting the oceans, in any case.

The Boys And Girls In The Bubbles

Ohio has been in shutdown mode for some time now – hey, can somebody remind me how long it’s been, exactly? — and I feel like we’ve adjusted pretty well.  Human beings are good at that; genetically, we’re hard-wired to assess new situations, figure them out, and come up with new strategies and approaches.  In only a few days, changed routines have been established, new daily patterns have become the norm, and what was once unusual has been accepted and incorporated into our lives with a kind of resigned, collective shrug.

FaceTime and Zoom and Microsoft Teams and countless other video applications have gotten a workout.  What used to be simple, voice-only calls have morphed into video calls as a matter of course, not because video makes the calls more efficient, but because it’s incredibly nice to see other human faces from time to time, to get a smile or a laugh and hope that you’ve lifted someone’s day as they’ve lifted yours.  Thanks to the miracles of modern technology, we’ve had virtual coffees and virtual beers after work and virtual cocktail parties with friends and family and colleagues to keep that human touch and to know that everyone looks okay and seems to be hanging in there.   Seeing faces turns out to be pretty darned reassuring and uplifting, when you think about it.

When we go outside for walks, we maintain that assured clear distance of six feet to the extent we can, veering into the street or onto the grass at Schiller Park to respect that buffer zone.  Social distancing is a physical concept, though, and it doesn’t mean we can’t maintain non-physical social contact with the people we see, through a smile and nod and a cheerful greeting and a brief chat as we stand appropriately apart.  People seem to be more consciously outgoing, as they steer clear of each other.  Maybe it’s just the fact that everybody is at home all day long where they used to be at their offices for most of the day, but it sure seems like there are lot of people out on the street at any given time.  Perhaps that’s because it’s another way to get that human contact — even if it’s remote contact.  That’s another element of this new paradigm that seems to have been adopted and incorporated without too much trouble.

During this shutdown period, we’re all living a kind of virtual life, but of course it’s our real life.  We’re all like the boy in the bubble, living in our little zones.  It’s a fascinating social experiment, and I hope people will remember this instinctive need for contact with fellow humans when this isolation process ends, as it will.  I, for one, will never take walking into a friendly restaurant or bar for granted again.

Into Full Dispersion Mode

Kish has been in touch with our neighbors up in Stonington, Maine.  Stonington, as you may recall, is a tiny lobster village located at the far tip of Deer Isle, jutting out into the Penobscot Bay.  It is a remote location, to say the least.

In their communications, our neighbors have mentioned something interesting:  many of the seasonal property owners are coming up earlier than ever before to open up their Stonington residences.  Normally, only permanent residents would be in Maine during this time of year, in what the locals jokingly call the “mud season.”  Typically, the summer residents wouldn’t show up at their Deer Isle places until late May or the beginning of June, at the earliest — and yet, this year, here they are already, up from New York City and Boston and Washington, D.C.

Can you blame them?  The big East Coast cities are COVID-19 hot spots, where many of the U.S. cases of coronavirus have been identified and there are concerns about how the medical facilities will handle the caseload.  In contrast, one neighbor told Kish that there are no reported COVID-19 cases in Stonington, on Deer Isle, or indeed anywhere in the surrounding county.  (Of course, nobody up there has been tested, either.)  According to recent news reports, there have been 155 cases of coronavirus in all of Maine, with most of those clustered in Cumberland County, where Portland is located, which is about three hours away from Stonington by car.

I would imagine that the dispersion from NYC and Boston to places like Stonington is being seen throughout Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont.  It’s mind-boggling to think of how difficult it must be for Manhattanites living on a densely populated island to achieve meaningful “social distancing” during this time.  If you’ve got to work remotely, and you’re fortunate enough to have the option of going to a faraway location where you aren’t cheek by jowl with other people as soon as you step out your front door, why not take “social distancing” to the max and head out to the remote, less populated areas and wait until the COVID-19 virus burns itself out?

Many of us wonder whether this coronavirus pandemic will result in lasting changes to American culture and society.  I think that one possible result is that more people will become interested in exploring, life outside the big cities, where there’s some elbow room to be had when the next epidemic hits.  They might just find that they like it.  And with the technological advances that allow people to work remotely, why not go into full dispersion mode?

Spring Break 2020 — VII

On our last full day of spring break we decided to spend our time enjoying the vibrant flowers that have made this year’s vacation destination so special. The flowers here are remarkably vivid and bright, and it is especially enjoyable when the locals fashion them into pretty garlands that grace the native woodworking and other items made by local artisans. Just down the street is a market that sells the handmade work of master craftsmen who specialize in woodworking, pottery, and tapestry. If only we had such creative artistry at home!

All Together Now

As I’ve taken walks around Schiller Park over the last few days, I’ve noticed that people are interested in publicly expressing their collective community spirit.  The above sign appeared in the window of the Hausfrau Haven, and I’ve seen similar messages chalked onto sidewalks — like “#RallyColumbus.”  It’s all part of an effort by the common folk to show some mutual support, and let their fellow citizens know that we’re all in this together, and that together we will get through our coronavirus trial.

I’m confined to the German Village area, of course, so I can’t say for sure, but I suspect that the signs and sidewalk messages I’ve seen here are just the very small tip of a much larger iceberg that can be found across the country.  Americans have a way of coming together during difficult times, helping each other out, and working to lift each others’ spirits.  Our political representatives might fight like the gingham dog and the calico cat, but the people stand together during the tough times — and messages that express that sentiment in a tangible way, for all to see, really help.  And, of course, there’s a lot more that we can’t see publicly that also reflects a fighting, mutually supportive spirit, like texts among groups of friends and co-workers and e-mail chains and virtual get-togethers and Facebook memes.

The attitude of toughness and resiliency makes me think of one of my favorite Beatles’ songs and video snippets, which appeared at the end of the Yellow Submarine film — All Together Now.  Let’s hope that we can maintain that ‘tude, and it will carry us through. 

Spring Break 2020 — VI

Of course, the social whirl is a key part of the whole spring break experience.  When the cocktail hour — liberally defined, of course — rolls around, it’s important to interact with your fellow spring breakers.  The crowds and partying give the spring break traveler an excellent opportunity for people watching while enjoying a tropical adult beverage served in a festive setting.

This year’s spring break destination has all of that, and more.  We had to elbow our way in to the overcrowded bar to get served, and then were incredibly lucky to find an open table where we could enjoy the sunshine, listen to the loud hip-hop music that had some guests on their feet and dancing, and watch the crowds go by.

Retirement Training

There’s a secret issue lurking deep within the many layers of this coronavirus episode and the “work from home” restrictions imposed by governmental entities, like Ohio, in response to the pandemic.  It’s a delicate, explosive, almost taboo subject that isn’t really being addressed by the people who are directly affected.

The secret issue is this:  in “boomer” households where one spouse works outside the home and the other doesn’t, the forced “shelter in place” requirements are seen as a kind of trial run for the retirement period that is coming down the road in the near future.  And neither spouse really knows, for sure, how it’s going to work when the one spouse stops trotting off to work on weekdays and ends up hanging around the house with the other spouse all day.  To be sure, they hope that the retirement years will be the golden period of bike-riding and pottery-making togetherness that the commercials depict, but they wonder if the reality is going to be more difficult . . . and darker.

To put it plainly:  is constant togetherness, without the “down time” created when one spouse is off at work, going to drive the stay-at-home spouse nuts?  And is the mere presence of the working spouse during the daytime period going to noticeably interfere with the habits and routines of the spouse who is used to having the run of the home, to do whatever s/he wants, without having the still-working spouse getting in the way or following him/her around like a lost puppy or a bored child who demands attention every waking hour of the freaking day?

Of course, this stay-at-home period isn’t a true trial run for retirement, because the working spouses are supposed to be working from home and, therefore, presumably have things to do that will occupy their time and command their attention.  Still, the need for adjustment is the same.  You might call this shutdown period a kind of partial dry run.  And, in a sense, that makes the situation even more delicate — because if the presence of the working spouse is getting on the stay-at-home spouse’s last nerve even under these circumstances, what’s it going to be like when true retirement comes and there is no work to serve as a distraction?

In households across America, spouses are walking on eggshells.  And if they aren’t, perhaps they should be.

Spring Break 2020 — V

 

Today Kish and I decided to get in touch with nature at our spring break destination.  And what better way to do so that to take a nature hike and try to get a glimpse of the elusive local wildlife?

These cute critters are hard to find, and almost as camera-shy as the mythical Sasquatch.  Fortunately, some careful hunting allowed us to take a rare photo of this species, which typically tries to avoid any and all human contact.  After luring this plump little fellow with an acorn, we were treated to the pleasant spectacle of him cavorting and gamboling in the virgin wilderness with his furry tailed friends.  This must have been what life was like back when this area was not despoiled by resort developments and the depredations of modern civilization!

We’ll always treasure the photo of this friend in the forest and look forward to sharing it with our friends when we return home after this year’s wonderful spring break.

Rethinking “Essential”

As of midnight last night, the State of Ohio has gone under a “shelter in place” order.  That means all residents, like us, are supposed to stay home for the most part, except for designated exceptions like seeking medical care, shopping for necessary supplies, and going out to get fresh air and exercise by walking, biking, or jogging, so long as you maintain that “social distance.”  The order will be in effect until April 6.

One of the more interesting things about the Ohio order is that it designates specific businesses and jobs that are considered “essential” for purposes of operations during the brief shutdown period.  The Ohio list is based on a list prepared by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security and you can read about it here.   In a society as complex as ours, with an economy as varied and multi-faceted as ours, you’d expect the list to be an extensive one, and it is.  (And I’m happy to report that lawyers made the list, incidentally.)

The list should get us all thinking, however, about the concept of “essentialness” when a crisis arises.  Obviously, people who provide medical care — doctors, nurses, lab technicians, and the like — and people whose jobs involve facilitating the delivery of medical care, like pharmacists and emergency medical technicians, are at the top of the list.  We should all be grateful for the health care professionals who are truly on the front lines as we deal with COVID-19.  And, of course, police officers and fire fighters are essential in times of crisis, just as they are in more normal times.

But many of the other jobs that are crucially important might be a bit under the radar — and, until now at least, perhaps underappreciated as well.   Like truck drivers who are hauling and delivering needed supplies and driving incredibly long hours to do so.  Like the people at the grocery stores repeatedly stocking the shelves, arranging for new deliveries, and checking out the worried consumers who want the reassurance of ample supplies at home.  Like the postal service and delivery truck drivers who are continuing to bring messages and products to our doorsteps.  Like plumbers, and electricians, and roofers and repairmen who can fix our appliances and keep our homes in working order.

The long and short of it is that many of the truly essential jobs when we get into a pinch are traditional blue-collar-type trades that don’t require a four-year liberal arts college degree.  Those are the people who keep the food supply chain working and the toilets flushing and the lights turned on.  We should all be thankful to them for their hard work and their unrelenting efforts during this period, but when this episode passes — and it will — perhaps we should also rethink the prevailing view that everyone should go to college and go deeply in debt to do so.  Perhaps we should focus, instead, on the concept of “essentialness” and making sure that we’ve got an ample supply of those truly essential tradespeople on hand and ready to serve when the need is critical.

Degrees in comparative philosophy are nice, but in a crisis you just can’t have too many plumbers.

Spring Break 2020 — IV

Spring break shouldn’t be all about getting sun, relaxing, reading, and soaking up flavorful tropical beverages.  In my view, it’s also important to explore some of the native culture in your spring break locale and broaden your horizons.

Fortunately, our spring break destination this year has many intriguing cultural artifacts that can serve to stimulate the imagination.  Today we took a guided tour of some of the curious items left behind by past civilizations.  From our review of the two items pictured above, it appears that the early humans in this location worshipped frogs, among other creatures in the pantheon of their gods.  Archaeologists theorize that the two frogs represent male and female deities, and some kind of ancient fertility ritual, and that the dish balancing on their heads might be an altar where small animals were sacrificed as part of ancient religious rites designed to bring about more bountiful  harvests.

The carefully crafted sculpture of the dog, on the other hand, has puzzled historians.  Some theorize that the dog is part of the ancient civilization’s creation myth, in which a gigantic dog god unearthed the first humans from underground.  Others maintain that the close proximity and juxtaposition of the dog figure and the frog figures indicate a linkage between those gods and their function in the ancient culture — and perhaps that after creatures are sacrificed on the altar, the dog buries them as part of the death rituals celebrated by local shamans.

It’s great to get some culture on spring break!  With exposure to artifacts like these, I feel like I will return from this sojourn more worldly, and wiser, than when I left.