Journal of the Plague Year
In mid-March, before we realized the risk we were taking, Mark and I headed to North Carolina to visit Matthew. With Elizabeth on spring break from teaching, it seemed like our best chance to see our son at his house in Durham. Montgomery was our first stop, the halfway mark that we’ve come to favor for its Civil Rights history and its home to the Equal Justice Initiative. It was pretty quiet downtown that evening, but it wasn’t until we stopped at a grocery store near the end of our drive the next day that we first got a glimpse of the new normal. An apocalyptic atmosphere would soon blanket the country over the next couple of months. Popular spots like Times Square would empty of tourists; panicked buyers would clear grocery shelves of toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and canned goods; our government would issue social distancing and shelter-in-place orders; and mandated masks and personal protective equipment would become dangerously scarce. Of course, the Covid-19 infection and death rate would escalate as our economy slowed down in decline. 36.5 million citizens have filed for unemployment as of May 14, and major retailers have filed for bankruptcy. Today, on May 24, the front page of the New York Times listed obituaries and death notices of some of the 100,000 Americans lost in the pandemic to date.
As you would guess, our visit to Matthew was cut short with his urgent demands to go home. His best friend Brendan drove to Durham from L. A. to ride out the pandemic with him at the same time we were making our way there, so we were able to see him as well. Talking with them brought me back to their Austin days as roommates, playing in The Sheeps, and of course, they would enjoy creating music together in the weeks to come. We left Matthew’s knowing that he and Brendan, along with Sharon, would play it safe. It was comforting to know. And while so much tragedy and hardship would play out around the country, we would shelter in place in Austin. Elizabeth and Andrew asked to stay with us soon after we returned. We settled into a routine of taking care of Jack while Andrew and Elizabeth worked, Mark going to Whole Foods for us on those early “seniors only” mornings while I took on cooking dinners. For the next seven weeks of a beautiful spring, we enjoyed having the two of them and Jack here in Austin, though I have to say we often felt guilty for it. We marked the days with Jack’s latest developments: he began crawling and climbing stairs during this time, and growing interested in little bugs and cleaning the pool filter basket. He seemed to enjoy “working” as much as splashing around in the pool or playing on the “beach” we made for him. He spent much of the time exploring all the rooms in the house and playing with toys and books that I had saved from our children’s baby days, but thank God for household items. Jack, like all babies, loves the real thing.
No one knows what the current reopening will bring, but for now, many people are out in parks and restaurants and stores enjoying Memorial Day weekend. Mark and I have opted to stay at home, protecting ourselves so we can protect our grandson and Elizabeth and Andrew. We can see from our FaceTimes with Matthew that he has taken to heart Alan Lightman’s article on the benefits of slowing down and opting out of information overload. He thinks it’s telling that people are now smiling and saying hello on his runs in Duke Forest and walks in the neighborhood. As he points out, getting outdoors has become a reprieve from shelter-in-place restrictions. It’s freedom. And it’s a refocusing on nature, which Thoreau would have loved.
