Legacy Strategies

Last night I found this Zenith Trans-Oceanic shortwave radio in the garage, and discovered that it still works. The most amazing thing about this is that I could "find" something like this in my own garage with no memory of seeing it before. I listened to some news on it about the pandemic.
Last night I found this Zenith Trans-Oceanic shortwave radio in the garage, and discovered that it still works. The most amazing thing about this is that I could “find” something like this in my own garage with no memory of seeing it before. I listened to some news on it about the pandemic.

Holy moly what a dry title. Note to self: think up better blog post titles. “Man’s ear found in dishwasher!” “Elephant rescues puppy from storm drain!” “Dolphins finally let us in on the joke!”

Anyway.

In the midst of a global crisis, things get strange. Stranger, I mean. Most of us know how to wash our hands, and many of us know why to do that. But a far smaller slice of that people pie have any idea what a virus is, and a vanishingly fewer number know how they work.

Mac Crosby came to see me again yesterday. We kept our distance, which is difficult for tactile people like us.
Mac Crosby came to see me again yesterday. We kept our distance, which is difficult for tactile people like us.

We worry needlessly. Worry doesn’t help outcomes, and unlike caution, worry stresses us and affects outcomes negatively. At one point, I let my mind wander far enough that I asked myself if I should open the gates before I died so the dogs wouldn’t be trapped and starve. Wow, Richard. Calm down.

An article I skimmed today talked of psychologists hearing about worry and anxiety about the current pandemic more than anything else.  Suddenly, your dumb little problems are pushed out by bigger, smellier fish to fry.

But, I rant. My friend Mac came by again yesterday to ask me some questions about journalism ethics and possibilities. She later wrote about it (link), since she’s trying to write every day while we are all “social distancing” in hopes of slowing the spread of the disease.

Today is the first day of spring, and no human can stop that. Where will we be in six months or a year? What will be our legacy of the great pandemic of 2020? Will I still be around to write it? To photograph it? Will it be one of dignity?  Of wisdom?

These aren't covids. They are Bradford pear pedals. Spring is here.
These aren’t covids. They are Bradford pear pedals. Spring is here.

2 Comments

  1. I start thinking that we’ll kill the dog since she wouldn’t want to live without us. Then I get up and go look at my garden.

    And yeah. One of my main stressors is people not having basic scientific knowledge. Example: those gloves are not going to help you or anyone else unless you change them every time you touch something. And don’t get me started on the “drink hot water” thing. Ugh. I cannot.

  2. “At one point, I let my mind wander far enough…”

    Fortunately (or unfortunately?) most of my worry seems to take place in my unconscious mind. I dreamt recently that my wife was quarantined on Ft. Hood, along with the mother of the extra child I was watching this week, leaving the children and I to fend for ourselves. Most of the dream was kids crying for their mothers and me frantically talking on the phone.

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