Angels know the best approach is respect for the devil. They know that truth is the ball that gets batted over the net and the game is never finished. Mankind’s strengths and limitations are on display for all to see, though now the stands are empty. The restless spectators gather outside in protest over being denied their season ticket seats. The gods are playing this game, and we’re fed up with their capriciousness.
We’re out on the street and we’ve made large displays of our displeasure. Come out and join us. We’ve got beer, snacks, flags, and a great deal of impatience. The kids are driving me crazy and we’re out of ketchup. Face it. This is all a conspiracy to try and take down President Trump. I don’t know anyone on my block that has the virus. We’re better off working than moldering in our bungalows and having to use newsprint instead of toilet paper. Grumble, grumble. What can I be if I can’t do my job and provide for my family? I’m at someone else’s mercy it would seem; the people making the decisions have their jobs still while millions of us stand in line. My relief check didn’t go very far, and Mitch McConnell doesn’t want to address the issue in the current bill if he isn’t forced to, which of course he should be.
John and Mary Farquar, my stand-ins, look on in dismay. No one seems to be in charge of the whole fiasco. One thing one day, one thing the next. The only certainty is that the citizenry is being called on to regroup and fend for themselves the best they can. The good thing is that in this time of crisis, saner minds are pooling their efforts to survive, filling in the blanks left by the abject government. The crowd in the street by the Statehouse wants retribution for being made a fool of. But who really put them in this spot is not really clear. “Our lives are our own and we will decide the risks and gamble on the safety factors. The government cannot make us do anything we don’t want to do!” Hmm.
So much for law and order, though 80% now understand the lockdown is the best strategy for a more secure recovery this summer, plus greater preparedness for what might be coming in the fall. The devil is in the details and it knows that the more uncertainty prevails, the more damage it can inflict on the unwary and those most vulnerable. It watches from the ethers, it slips by your doors at night, it could be lurking in the least expected places; it plays on fear.
It infects our minds with all the uncertainties imaginable. Do we have the power to pull ourselves through a personal and collective threat of this dimension? A total encircling of all that we support and maintain? The small town, wherever it is, feels the vacuum of the fallen. Greenfield was listed in the Sunday Times dropping from 14 to 9 deaths this week. But the restless citizens in Georgia challenge the devil at their own peril. Trump says ingest Lysol. The devil loves you!
We cannot see what is coming down the pike, but we can see the proper actions to take. In Shelburne Falls where I live, traffic is down, McCusker’s has instituted the most robust of practices, but one can refill a prescription, wave to a friend, and not wait in line at Keystone Market The young kids around are on their bikes, and a parent or two amble by on foot or bike. Life goes on. We know who we are. Be vigilant.
In this Valley we are seeing so many groups rallying together to preserve what is our essential way of life in the broadest of terms, the best of being human. We belong, we console, we share, we’re on ine, we hang on to the familiar, we are all equal targets. Our cloistered lives illuminate something new: our respect for each life with its needs and choices, the spaces we share daily. We’re not exactly the people we were; we’ve become more inward, conscious of our collective safety, our coexistence. We need each other. Each loss of a life is all our loss too. Each effort of those doing the tough jobs on the street, in the hospitals, in the essential stores are our efforts too. Our best support? Staying safe.
Alan Harris, formerly chef of Noble Feast Catering, is a contributing My Turn writer, working to complete his first novel. Hiker, swimmer, singer, poet, hi lives with his wife Jane in Shelburne Falls.