This Is a _______Time to Be Alive

This is a terrible time to be alive. The coronavirus may be the most frightening thing many of us have ever experienced. In my long lifetime (fourscore and two years) I’ve seen the development of the atomic bomb, known the fear of a polio epidemic, survived all the childhood diseases for which there are now vaccines,  witnessed the destructive effect of the Vietnam War and its mishandling by our government, experienced the fright of the Cuban missile crisis, and watched the true horror of 9-11 unfold.

Attempting to understand an unseen enemy which attacks at random and with no purpose other than to replicate itself? Such is the stuff of science fiction. And at my age I feel I’m constantly in the crosshairs … elderly and health compromised people seem to be where most of the deaths occur. I’m fortunate to be in good health. I live in isolation with a cat. I’m grateful for the second heartbeat in my house, and swing between varying stages of stress. Sleep doesn’t come easily. I try to stay busy during the day.

Hearing some of my fellow citizens discuss this worldwide pandemic in somewhat dismissive terms is almost equally disturbing. “Only a two percent death rate,” they clamor. “Open up the country.” That two percent rate as of April 29 translated to over fifty-eight thousand American souls lost in less than two months. More than died in the Vietnam War over a decade.

This is an eye-opening time to be alive. This event is laying bare the serious problems in this country I love. Hero worship of athletes and entertainers has been replaced. The health care professionals, and I’m sure volunteers, are now our heroes. It’s a disgrace that they have to struggle so hard to get the ammunition they need. People we never really gave much thought to are appreciated as vital to every day life: truck drivers, grocery store employees, delivery people, to name a few. The divide between the haves and the have nots is painfully obvious. Over the years the rich continue to get richer, while more and more people live from paycheck to paycheck … and some don’t even have that. The government was woefully unprepared for this event—dismissive of it at times—and we’ve been attempting to play catch-up ever since.

This is a bewildering time to be alive. After reading about the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic it surprised me that so little documentation exists in the form of literature and music from that era. People who lived in that time were more overwhelmed than we are. We have an abundance of information (and misinformation). They had no idea what they were facing, what it was, how long it might last. From their experience we can learn. I fervently hope we will.

Yes, there are the nay-sayers, the people who are convinced it’s some kind of hoax, a ploy by who knows whom. Conspiracy theorists who defy death, convinced “the Rona” can’t get them.

This is an amazing time to be alive.  There is a great outpouring of concern and love among I believe the vast majority of Americans. Small and large kindnesses. I’ve experienced many of these personally, and I am very grateful for them. Women spending long hours at sewing machines providing face masks for health care workers, friends, family. Volunteers providing free meals—at a local church, daily. Pick up at curbside, no questions asked, anyone is welcome. First responders providing some fun for children’s birthdays, since no birthday party can happen except for people living in the house. Sirens and lights and a short parade to the birthday child’s house, sometimes with balloons.

I see people putting the technology we enjoy to excellent use: providing diversion and encouragement through the arts. Coronavirus humor abounds, much of it appearing on Facebook. Another positive use of technology. More entertainers coming up with brilliant parodies. “Virtual” meetings by use of technology, a way to connect as we continue to be “socially isolated.” A better expression I’ve heard is “physically isolated.”

All of this, as I see it, signs of hope for the future. We’ll survive this. We can wish that changes for the better will come as we learn more about ourselves. I’ve urged my young friends to keep journals of this time.

I’ve found it difficult to concentrate and attempt to write, but this essay is a start. In Doctor Zhivago, Boris Pasternak gives Yuri this thought: “How wonderful to be alive. But why does it always hurt?”

This is a painful, wonderful time to be alive. And hope never dies.