Covid-19’s Silver Lining

(and my epitaph)

Please read to the end.

 

On last night’s local news I heard a local city councilman, a self-described Millennial, called upon his fellow Millennials — in fact, all of his fellow humans, to do whatever we can to halt the spread of Covid-19, stressing the seriousness of this crisis and the need for immediate and effective action.  His remarks stimulated the idea in my head that the world is, at this moment, facing a future that is unique and destined to transform our lives forever.  Just take a look at how our lives are different from at any other time in history:  we are, by free-will or coercion, sheltering in our homes and committed to doing so for an uncertain amount of time; we have, in many cases, panicked and overstocked our pantries and storage spaces; cancelled all public concerts and shows or gatherings of more than 5 or 10 people; we have cancelled the NBA, XFL, NCAA, MLB seasons, in a world where sports are considered essential to life itself; a Chinese billionaire has pledged to send to the U.S. a million surgical masks and half a million Covid-19 test kits; the U.S. government is planning to send $1000 or more to each citizen as compensation for our voluntary quarantining.  Not your world as usual, is it?  And where will it go from here?

 

Interestingly enough, in China and northern Italy, air pollution has been reduced to the point where thousands of lives have already been saved that would have been lost to respiratory diseases (in response to the danger of the respiratory disease we are currently battling whole-heartedly).  Also interestingly, the world would never have submitted to the harsh measures we have undertaken to fight Covid-19 just to fight air pollution and climate change. (Who knew it would be so easy?)

 

What a strange new world we have found ourselves in.  We are doing things for each others’ wellbeing that we would not previously have contemplated doing.  We as a species seem to be undergoing a transformation.  Each and every one of us will undoubtedly be touched by the death or serious illness of a family member or friend.  What if we seized this time in our evolution to commit ourselves to continue to press forward in this movement toward a more caring, loving, supportive world?  We have come so far in only a few weeks!  How close might be the tipping point that would alter everything?  Are you up for the final push?

 

I remember, in the 1980s and 1990s, my volunteer days with a global organization committed to ending hunger in the world.  The Hunger Project’s source document compassionately spoke of the deaths of millions of people annually as a result of hunger.  Its proposed solution to ending hunger is creating the context in which that can occur.  In other words, the creation of The End of Hunger as an Idea Whose Time Has Come.  (As Victor Hugo said,”Nothing is so powerful as an idea whose time has come”.)

 

Humanity is, for the most part, currently acting as one during this crisis.  The opportunity has been created for us to transform our relationship not only to each other but also our relationship with the entire planet — to care for and nurture the world as a whole, each one doing whatever is in their power to do in order to bring that vision into reality, to create an idea whose time has come.  To quote The Hunger Project, “A person can die as evidence of the persistence of hunger and starvation, in which case that person’s life and death have been reduced to meaninglessness.  A person can die in the context of the end of hunger and starvation, and the context affords meaning — almost purpose — to that life and death.”

 

There is a sizeable chance that hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of people in the U.S. will be infected.  I am in one of the age groups that is most at risk during this crisis, so I could easily be in the 2%-plus who don’t survive. Should that become a reality I offer my proposed epitaph:  “If my life has not made a difference in the world, please, God, may my death do so.”

 

Thank you for reading this far.  Now, please, don’t let this opportunity turn all the world’s deaths from this virus be meaningless.  Don’t let this opportunity to transform the world become wasted.  We’re so close!

 

 

 

Sterile Processing Technician (Trainee)

70 Years old, by far the oldest person sitting in a room of 27, waiting for a chance to apply for a job sterilizing medical/surgical equipment (entry level) at a currently unknown salary, working who knows how many hours a week, at a yet-to-be-determined location.

There are another 12-15 souls in the foyer who are also waiting ahead of me for an interview.  In the past 5 minutes only two names have been called for whatever is the next step in the process, and 6 more applicants have arrived, so it looks like it could be a bit of a wait at this point (unless a miracle happens, which, of course, I am always open to.)

As tempus fugits  (what’s the Latin word for “crawls at a snail’s pace”) I have ample time to consider the finer points of my job search here today, to whit:  Do I really want to invest this much time seeking a job I heard of for the first time just a week ago and about which I know precious little?  Knowing what I do know about this job, do I really want to risk getting cut, pricked, or otherwise exposed to some, possibly, deadly disease that someone else clearly sought treatment to rid him/herself of?  How do I convince my interviewer that, of the 50 or so (so far) other eager applicants, I am the one — I, the guy with the gray goatee (albeit the most handsome guy in the room) am the one he/she should risk his/her career to hire?  What if this job is really shitty?  Given all the above, how much time am I willing to spend waiting here before I blow this joint and get on with my day?  (On a related note, do I have anything better/more important to do if I do leave?)

(Another 15 minutes of my life have passed/expired since the last name was called.  Getting on with my day is looking more and more like an attractive option.)

More questions arise as I continue my vigil:  What are the odds that I can beat out the (now) 60 other candidates for this position?  Even though this process is a font of valuable insights, do I yet have sufficient material for a decent blog (this being the end of my second page of handwritten blather)?

Decision made for me: I was supposed to fill out an on-line application before coming for an interview — I can’t be interviewed without it.  (Who knew?)

It was probably  a shitty job anyway.

 

A Quiet Kind of Guy

His Life, Which is Based on a True Story

He was a nice enough guy.  He never had a whole lot to say, though.  Cliff was a quiet kind of guy.  He usually seemed distracted, like he had a lot on his mind, although, if he did, he never said anything about it.  Mostly he would say something funny — he could be a very funny guy; he had an extremely sharp mind and a strangely humorous way of looking at things, even a bit bizarre at times.  He would often tell jokes about something that had just been said; he knew a million jokes and could go on non-stop once a topic had been raised (I hear that Rodney Dangerfield was like that).  I think that telling jokes was Cliff’s way of avoiding sharing himself with his friends —  a way of contributing to the conversation without really sharing Cliff.  Everyone would laugh (his jokes were usually top of the line), and then we would go on with our conversation without him until the next joke topic showed up.

Maybe he was liked just for comic relief.

He really didn’t have a lot of friends — he had many acquaintances, but, unless he needed something from someone or someone need something from him, he never called anyone and no one ever called him, like, just to chat and catch up on what’s been going on in their worlds.  Even when you bumped into him somewhere, just the two of you, the conversations seemed awkward and you both wanted to just get on with whatever you were doing.

Cliff always seemed upbeat, though.  His life seemed like it was going just the way he wanted it.  He always seemed to have anything and everything he needed.  Of course, not actually being able to be close to him, one never knew if what he had was what he really wanted.

Cliff had led a long, very interesting life, with many wonderful adventures, which he would only bring up if it fit in with the conversation at the time or he could gain some bragging rights or some similar advantage.  Over the course of the years he shared about his childhood as a Navy brat, moving with his family every three years: Memphis, Pensacola, Whidbey Island, Hawaii, San Diego and, least interesting of all, a small town in Southeast Texas, where his mom was born and reared.  His personal adventures while in the Navy and afterward were some of the most interesting: Visiting Hong Kong, Japan, the Philippines; living in San Francisco in the Hippie Heyday; hitchhiking around the Western states; sex, drugs and rock and roll; two marriages, one child; living three years in Hawaii.

You’d think that with all that travel and adventure his address book would be bulging.  Not the case.  It’s doubtful that more than a dozen people would even be at his funeral.  Maybe more if anyone knew how to contact the people in his past.  He’s one of those fine, honest, loving people who pass amongst us, lifting us up a bit over time, and then fading away forever (dead or alive), except in the memories of a precious few: family and those to whom he owed money or amends.

Maybe his deep feeling of impermanence was the motivation for his taking up the art of writing in his later years.  Maybe it was his deep seated feelings of failure to make an impression worthy of his desires.  Maybe writing was just the only outlet left to him to have his thoughts heard.  One can only hope that it succeeds for him.  Maybe he just wanted to be special.  Or, maybe, just left alone.