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!”
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.
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?