Rod Dreher's Blog, page 161

Pandemic Diaries 7

That’s me and my wingman Roscoe above. Can’t say strongly enough how much that little friend means to me, and how much I’ve cherished him these past two weeks. Just now I have to make a run up to the country to bring my mom supplies. The state of Louisiana is going into lockdown at 5pm today. I want to share with you some more diary entries before I head out:

 

From Northern Virginia:

We live in Northern Virginia, outside of D.C. Like most churches around here, ours suspended Sunday worship as of two Sundays ago (March 15)—primarily in the interest of not being a source of infecting our neighbors—and its Sunday service has gone online. That was also when most everyone around here started staying home from work, and when the schools closed.

Our head priest (rector) did something else too: He started hosting online, interactive (via Zoom calls) Morning Prayer every weekday morning at 9:00 and Evening Prayer every weekday evening at 5:00. He has limited each one to a half-hour. At least 60 or so separate accounts have logged in for each of these, and one time we reached 100 (the limit of our account, which we’ve since increased). We are an Anglican church (Anglican Church in North America), so this means Morning and Evening Prayer out of the Book of Common Prayer.

The origin of these services is curious, and bears on the force they’ve had for our family and many over their first week. During the English Reformation, the Archbishop of Canterbury (Thomas Cranmer) wanted to make daily prayer accessible for the laity. The monasteries had had their canonical hours at least as far back at St. Benedict, but those required prayers every three hours, including through the night. Eight times a day was impossible for ordinary folk. So Cranmer distilled it down to two daily services, Morning and Evening Prayer, and Morning Prayer became in many ways the foundational Anglican service.

I’ve long known the basic history and known and appreciated those services. We’ll do Evening Prayer with some friends from church once a week, and an occasional Morning Prayer at home, and our church sometimes adds once-a-week Morning Prayer during the week in Lent. So one off, from time to time. But I’ve never done it the way the Church of England designed it—every day, twice a day.

It took the “freedom” and needs of a de-facto quarantine, plus the leadership of our rector and modern technology, to get me to do them the right way. As I result, my family, I, and others have spent the last week at last experiencing, and delighting in, the beauty, careful construction, and force of this system of worship. The lectionary readings are a progression across the morning and evening services and through the week (and year), so if you do all the services, you get substantial chunks of scripture, in order, rather than scattered bits. That includes marching through the Psalms once a month. The collects progress through the week, with a different one for each day, while we also in each service repeat the collect of the week, from the previous Sunday, as well as some other prayers (including a Prayer of St. Chrysostom) and verses (plus the basics such as the creed and Lord’s Prayer). So we are both moving along and remembering, changing and letting things sink in.

These services have structured our days as we adapt to this new world. I get up, get ready, and head down to the TV (set up to mirror the laptop) at 9:00, joined by my wife and kids. Precisely at 9:30, we are done (after the kids all wave goodbye to their friends on screen), and our work and school day begins in earnest. At 5:00, we mark the beginning of the evening and the end of at least the main part of my work day as we had begun it, with communal prayer, as a family and as a church.

It’s almost like a monastery for ordinary folks. What a gift, courtesy of a virus.

From southeastern Texas:

There has been a weird juxtaposition of “THE END IS NEAR!!” and complete normalcy here. Things were slow to ramp up in our area but panic buying took over last week. The most surprising thing for me was seeing cases of bottled water disappear. I mean, this isn’t a hurricane we’re facing and there is absolutely no disruption of utilities anticipated. In addition I have a feeling that buying up multiple bottles of peroxide was for some a kind of amulet against infection. They will no doubt gather dust on countless counters.

Speaking of hurricanes, I told my husband that there was a very similar surreal feeling when we were hunkered down waiting for Hurricane Harvey to hit. We had supplies in, our cars were gassed, our phones always charged, we were tuned in to the current weather forecast. Outside it was merely cloudy with an occasional breeze, a passing stray shower. It looked completely normal. Then you pulled up the radar and there was a panic-inducing MONSTER churning toward you. Turn off the radar and everything looks ordinary again. We felt rather foolish being so prepared even as we knew we needed to be. This situation feels similar. I wonder if we had some sort of virus radar that showed where it was people would take it more seriously. As it is, it’s invisible and so we only see the storm damage in the form of abstract numbers online and photos of people on ventilators. I used to be a nurse and was working at a large university hospital during the swine flu pandemic so I have no illusions about the grim possibilities.

We have a large family and I told my husband I felt like I needed to wear a shirt advertising “we have seven kids; don’t judge my cart contents” when I went to the store. For some it might look like hoarding but I was buying possibly twice the normal amount, certainly not enough to get through months. We now have to run out every several days for fresh produce and milk (for the little ones) but they’re quick trips. I’ve seen only one person wearing a mask in the last 10 days. The local HEB has staff armed with large bottles of hand sanitizer at the doors, making sure everyone uses it on entering and exiting. I heard yesterday that there was a security guard there and a scuffle ensued when a man refused to use hand sanitizer.

Since we were already homeschooling, apart from the oldest kids not attending classes (community college) things look pretty ordinary. No one is going to any routine checkups and no one is shopping except for necessary supplies. I have an at-home business so that hasn’t changed. My husband is a priest and therein lies our biggest disruption: church.

We’ve followed our bishop’s directives with respect to services: only Liturgies to be celebrated, no other services. Only a skeleton crew present, a maximum of 10 people including parishioners. The first Sunday we were unable to get a streaming system set up in time, but by last Tuesday it was in place. At first some people attended despite the restriction (no one was locked out) but by Liturgy yesterday it looks like it was down to around 10. I’d been home since the Sunday of Orthodoxy with the younger children, either reading Typica or participating with the streaming Liturgy, but yesterday Father started a system (with the dean’s permission) whereby he delayed consuming the chalice until mid-afternoon and allowed parishioners to come on the hour and half hour to venerate the cross and icons and receive communion. Doors were propped open so no one had to touch them. Alcohol wipes were present at each glass-covered icon, with a small trash can nearby. The little girls were overjoyed to see their friends (who were on their way out) but I and their mother had to hold onto the children so there was no physical contact exchanged. They’re all too young to understand. This system will stay in place until the county gives instructions for a shelter-in-place. (I will be surprised if the governor issues one for the state because so much of Texas is rural and isolated and there are many counties with no cases at all.)  People were grateful to be able to receive communion.

Our mission is small (as is our budget) and we’re in the first year of a planting grant. Normally we would be encouraging visitors but now we’re having to tell people to stay away. The future looks uncertain but we’re focusing on the present and being grateful for what we have. As Father said in his sermon yesterday, “this may not be the Lent we wanted, certainly not the Lent we would have chosen, but it is the Lent God has given us.”

From Minneapolis:

I got laid off from my job yesterday. I work for a small manufacturing company where everyone wears a lot of hats, and one of the production gals became symptomatic last week, so they shut down production. The part of my job that doesn’t involve production largely involves procurement and inventory—very unnecessary jobs right now.

The Archdiocese has stopped all Masses, but our parish is offering 24-7 Eucharistic Adoration (in the church, everyone at least 6 feet apart, etc.) I have a regular weekly Adoration hour and signed up for another, but can’t attend now because of being possibly exposed at work. That hurts. We watched a live-streamed Mass yesterday morning at home and it was better than I thought—but I still feel bereft.

My husband had a stroke a few years ago. It was thankfully mild, but there are definite but subtle physical and mental changes. If he has to job hunt, I don’t know what he’ll do—I don’t think he could handle the stress. After the stroke he was able to step down to a less-demanding job in his company, keeping benefits and vacation time but taking a big pay cut. His company is still going, but if that changes, we lose health insurance.

We came into an unexpected inheritance some years back and agreed to use it judiciously. We took money out for a couple vehicles over the years, and for kids’ tuition, and splurged on one Disney vacation years ago. We kept living life just as we did before the windfall and hoped we could swing a low-key retirement when my husband hits 62 in roughly a decade. We are pretty typical Gen-Xers, holding our heads down and working and not expecting much. Our biggest retirement dream: a truck camper and lots of camping trips. We watched the value of the inheritance account go up and up, and my husband’s 401k too.  I haven’t had the courage to look at them now—I have no idea where we are.

I can’t help thinking that we lived and worked like the ant but we may has well have enjoyed it like the grasshopper.

From Walla Walla, Washington:

As you know, I live in a place you have to intentionally want to visit.  The Walla Walla valley is remote–it is an hour’s drive on a two-lane highway once you leave either I 82 or I 84.  Because it is remote, it is unusually self-contained, with colleges, health care, a robust local food supply (and bonus we make wine locally so if things get really bad we can drown our sorrows!) and a large agribusiness sector.

Until Friday there were no confirmed cases of COVID-19 in our county, but a local friend who works at the hospital rolled her eyes and said “it’s all over the place here–we just aren’t testing.” We are sitting here watching the slow-rolling disaster in Seattle and California and wondering when the virus will hit one of the many retirement communities here in town.  I pray that because we had a head start–the city and county have been proactive and local businesses were quick to limit gathering–for example restaurants closed dining rooms, colleges closed campuses and the like that we may escape the worst here.

I stocked up on seeds and plants a couple of weeks ago, and I am focused on getting my fruit trees into the ground and my vegetable garden prepared and planted.  I spend a lot of time outdoors digging, weeding, hauling, and pruning so life is quite pleasant for me right now.  The biggest disruption is that church isn’t happening for us.

Our little Episcopal church shut down early–I think the last gathering was two weeks ago. This was the first church here to livestream, which started a week ago.   Yesterday we had a Zoom forum prior to a livestreamed Morning Prayer service (which I’ll link at the end).  I was touched at the planning and care that went into producing this for our community.  I wasn’t expecting music! We are a small congregation and I am feeling incredibly thankful for our clergy and musicians.

At the forum yesterday, the rector showed us the parish records from 1918–he broadcast the pages from the book where clergy records services and attendance.  There were no services for a ten week period between November and January 1919.  Prior to that, there were maybe 10 people still attending.  The note in the book said that services were cancelled by order of the state of Washington.  In an odd way this was comforting–knowing that in 1918 nobody had the surveillance or modeling tools to know what was coming until it hit them; nobody had the health care resources we have now; nobody had Netflix or Zoom, and yet once the pandemic subsided, the world bounced back quickly enough that a century later the great Influenza isn’t much remembered by history.   Things will be bad, but we will get through this.

Here is a link to yesterday’s worship: https://vimeo.com/398943820

The Walla Walla reader included some material on how much she worries about the social fabric of the country, given the amount of political vitriol arising now. I sympathize with her point of view, but I took that part out because I want to be careful not to let these diaries turn into an occasion for people to fight with each other over politics.


From DeSoto, Kansas:

I pastor a church in De Soto, KS.  We are a quiet community outside of KC.  Our worship is traditional.  Two Sundays ago we did our first ‘virtual worship’ with a cell phone.  The set up was in our welcome area near a fireplace.  Nothing fancy.  I am grateful to those churches who can do a more fuller service that includes singing and the like, but I was very much moved by the experience of just sitting in front of a phone and praying and preaching through whatever it is we’re going through.

The reaction has been nothing but positive.  There has been an oddly affecting comfort of knowing people are gathered together with family and pausing for a few moments of worship.  I have found it to be a bit freeing as well by not having to worry about all that can go wrong during a service.  I know I and others will most likely be tearful wrecks by the time we all get to worship together again.  This time apart has reminded me that God’s love truly can keep us together.  I really do feel like we are preparing ourselves for a glorious reunion that is the foretaste of God’s coming kingdom.

Our congregation is now communicating with one another on a more frequent basis (albeit almost solely electronically).  Connections are being made as phone trees emerge, bringing people who have never talked to one another together and are now learning more about each other.  Others are sending cards and postcards, reviving an age-old tradition of pen-paling.  Church goers are submitting devotions of comfort and grace that are being well-received.  Many are volunteering to help with those in the most isolated of circumstances, making sure our most vulnerable people are getting what they need.

We are huddled in our homes and learning to live life together again.  I try to limit watching the news of this unfolding catastrophe knowing that it will get worse before it gets better, not to remain ignorant but rather to remain present to this community.  I know this will end and not without great, great difficulty, but in our dying to the old ways something new is emerging and I am grateful for the people of faith here at the church who are carrying on in ways that I could never imagine.

From San Diego:

I wanted to share with you my own experience regarding the Coronavirus lockdown here in San Diego, where I work and reside. Like everywhere else in the state, San Diego’s been subject to the same policies, but you couldn’t tell in the beach community I live in.

I went on a run yesterday for the first time in almost two weeks, my first exercise in a week (I’ve been recovering from an illness). I was struck by how many cyclists and runners were out and about. Far more than even on beautiful summer days, it seemed like Coronavirus has rekindled Americans’ love for bicycles and moving about on their own two feet.

At the same time, I found it ironic that the number of people outside made it challenging at times to maintain social distance. All that space, yet here we were, using the same sidewalks, running/walking paths, etc. I found myself holding my breath every time I passed someone else, concerned the virus could waft its way over via the breeze generated by passing cyclists and runners.

As for traffic, it was noticeably less than pre-lockdown, but still one too many, in my view. I couldn’t help but wonder where all these people were going if most everything was closed or if they were even going anywhere. A place like San Diego, especially close to the beach, makes it easy to catch cabin fever and a part of me empathized with the desire to enjoy the day while we’re still allowed to.

Overall, however, I got the sense that people just didn’t take the lockdown that seriously. They did it because they were asked to, which is good, but, as people in free societies tend to do, they were willing to test the system. There were parties being held late into the evenings at the apartment complex where I live, indicating people were still having gatherings in relatively confined spaces, despite warnings from the CDC.

It all makes me wonder what happens if the pandemic does get worse. The unwillingness of people to make temporary sacrifices virtually ensures stronger measures, up to and possibly even coercive enforcement, will be implemented. Gov. Andrew Cuomo of New York admonished those gathering in parks and other public spaces amid the lockdown and his words could effectively summarized as, “We’re not messing around.”

On the other side of it, the economic impact the pandemic will have on our society became just a bit more apparent yesterday. The owner of the gym I’ve attended since I started living here has been updating the membership daily and wrote a heart-to-heart letter to us all. Without divulging too much, he leveled with us: while business has been suspended, their financial obligations, such as rent and taxes, have not. The cost of doing business in San Diego, to say nothing of California, is notoriously expensive. The amount of overhead is challenging to pay off even in the best of times and now the business can’t even open. To top it all off, the gym recently opened up a fourth location; in some ways, this crisis has hit at a time when this gym couldn’t afford one. As the owner put it, you can save for everything else, but “you do not save up for the day the Governor tells you that the entire state is shut down.”

Despite the bleak outlook, the ownership is actually paying it’s full-time employees their regular salaries and wages. Unlike many other businesses, they’ve yet to lay off anyone in anticipation of losses that are virtually guaranteed at this point. This is an incredible decision on their part, but he also made clear it wasn’t something that could go on forever. Currently, the gym’s being buttressed by the monthly fees members (how many, I’m not sure) are continuing to pay but, again, if this crisis continues, it’s guaranteed that other members will eventually opt out.

I, for one, am choosing to continue paying membership fees for the time being. Being a member of the “essential” workforce, I still go to work every day, a routine that’s quickly become a luxury. Honestly, it’s not easy to consciously decide to pay for a service I cannot use. But these are extraordinary times; I’m continuing to pay the membership fees for the sake of the owners, who, like many entrepreneurs, have thrown everything they had into this business, and for the employees whose livelihoods currently depend on members still paying their dues.

I can’t say I’ve been a particularly “involved” member of this gym. For me, it’s a strictly contractual, transactional relationship — I pay for a service, they provide it, I go home. I’m not involved in the community aspect of the gym as much as the other members. But it’s also been the closest thing to a community I’ve had since moving to the city and I’ve made a few friends there, one of whom was laid off last week due to the Coronavirus. Hearing the gym’s owner explain exactly what was at stake brought the true face of the crisis to home and makes me fearful of what’s to come after the initial crisis has abated. I know, for a fact, that many of the faces I’ve come accustomed to seeing on a daily basis at this gym aren’t going to be there when I return and it’s a sobering thought.

But the worst of the pandemic awaits us and I only hope it doesn’t take a disaster on the scale of Italy for Americans to realize the importance of isolation and social-distancing. Nobody wants to live like this, but if we want any kind of life to return to, we have to be willing to make those sacrifices. It takes a tremendous amount of effort and work to sustain a society during the best of times; imagine what it takes to do the same during the worst of times.

Thank you, readers. Keep ’em coming to me at rod — at — amconmag — dot — com. Remember, put PANDEMIC DIARIES in the subject line. I get lots of e-mail, and it’s easy to miss things.


If you want to send in photos of life during coronavirus time, please feel free. Make sure they are high resolution, though.

The post Pandemic Diaries 7 appeared first on The American Conservative.

Dr. Fauci Vs. The Ceausescus

Under the dictatorial communist reign of Nicolae Ceausescu, everyone had to defer to him, and play along with the titles he granted himself, e.g., “Genius Of The Carpathians,” despite his ignorance. And they had to pretend that his wife, Elena, was a brilliant chemist, even though she had only an elementary school education. (Fun fact: behind her back, Romanian scientists called her “Codoi,” meaning “co-two,” because that’s how she pronounced “CO2”, carbon dioxide.)

I thought about how it must have been for scientists to deal with the impossibly vain Ceausescus when I read this Science magazine interview with Dr. Anthony Fauci. They thought they knew everything, and were accustomed to being flattered and deferred to. If you wanted to keep your head, you had to go along with the lie. Excerpts:

Q: How are you managing to not get fired?

A: Well, that’s pretty interesting because to [Trump’s] credit, even though we disagree on some things, he listens. He goes his own way. He has his own style. But on substantive issues, he does listen to what I say.

Q: You’ve been in press conferences where things are happening that you disagree with, is that fair to say?

A: Well, I don’t disagree in the substance. It is expressed in a way that I would not express it, because it could lead to some misunderstanding about what the facts are about a given subject.

More:

Q: You’ re standing there saying nobody should gather with more than 10 people and there are almost 10 people with you on the stage. And there are certainly more than 10 journalists there asking questions.

A: I know that. I’m trying my best. I cannot do the impossible.

Q: What about the travel restrictions? Trump keeps saying that the travel ban for China, which began 2 February, had a big impact on slowing the spread of the virus to the United States and that he wishes China would have told us 3 to 4 months earlier and that they were “very secretive.” (China did not immediately reveal the discovery of a new coronavirus in late December 2019, but by 10 January, Chinese researchers made the sequence of the virus public.) It just doesn’ t comport with facts.

A: I know, but what do you want me to do? I mean, seriously Jon, let’s get real, what do you want me to do?

Q: Most everyone thinks that you’re doing a remarkable job, but you’ re standing there as the representative of truth and facts, but things are being said that aren’ t true and aren’t factual.

A: The way it happened is that after he made that statement [suggesting China could have revealed the discovery of a new coronavirus 3 to 4 months earlier], I told the appropriate people, it doesn’t comport, because 2 or 3 months earlier would have been September. The next time they sit down with him and talk about what he’s going to say, they will say, “By the way, Mr. President, be careful about this and don’t say that.” But I can’t jump in front of the microphone and push him down. OK, he said it. Let’s try and get it corrected for the next time.

And:

Q: At Friday’s press conference, you put your hands over your face when Trump referred to the “deep State Department” (a popular conspiracy theory). It’s even become an internet meme. Have you been criticized for what you did?

A: No comment.

Read it all. 

To be fair, I think Dr. Fauci is biting his tongue because he’s a patriot and a professional. He understands the depth of the crisis, and is putting his own professional self-respect in abeyance to serve the country. He does not lie for the president; he only refrains from speaking. I don’t blame him at all for the path he’s taken, because it seems reasonable to me given all the circumstances. Now is not the time for a man of his expertise to throw a fit over the president’s behavior (tempting though it must be). Still, it’s embarrassing, and even a disgrace, that one of the country’s most distinguished scientists, a man who has trained all his life for this moment, has to be subordinate to a vain, ignorant politician. In a normal country, the president would be harmonized with his senior public health team, would defer to their scientific expertise in briefings, and not put them in a position to be humiliated by having to be respectful and deferential to him, even though he at times talks like a boob.

Don’t read this me cheering for the Democrats. Look at what the House Democrats are trying to slip into their bailout bill:

Also, guys, let’s maybe focus on restricting stock buybacks and executive compensation with taxpayer loans and save the woke-scolding for later? pic.twitter.com/6iv0TKbbwU

— Rachel Bovard (@rachelbovard) March 23, 2020

The Democrats are going to use this pandemic to try to restructure the world according to their preferred egalitarian model. As Rahm Emanuel said, “Never let a crisis go to waste.”

Still, after having spent most of the past year reading about the lies and self-effacement that doctors, scientists, and other professionals working under communism had to live with, and not object to, it’s awful to watch a version of this play out in the United States in this moment of unprecedented national crisis.

Speaking of science having to surrender to nonsense, the militantly anti-woke left-wing mathematician James Lindsay predicts how the crazies on that side will exploit Trump’s pig-headed clumsiness:

Yeah, so I”m in a very grumpy mood today. Even with hundreds of thousands of lives at stake, and our entire economy, the political bullsh*t never ceases.

UPDATE: Oh FFS!

On a Thursday conference call featuring more than 200 members of the House Democratic caucus, lawmakers one by one laid out a sweeping wish list of provisions they want to see included in the nascent package, including a boost in infrastructure spending, an expansion of Social Security benefits and funding for states to set up an all-mail voting system in the event the pandemic extends into November’s elections.

“This is a tremendous opportunity to restructure things to fit our vision,” Majority Whip James Clyburn (D-S.C.) told lawmakers, according to a source on the call.

UPDATE: Reader C.L.H. Daniels makes a good point:

I read that entire interview earlier today. While I mainly agree with your assessment of Fauci’s responses, what struck me was the sheer partisan malice of the interviewer. After that first, anodyne question (“How are you?”), ten of the next sixteen questions were designed to bait him into saying something critical of Trump, things Trump has said or done, Trump’s policies, etc. I’m not surprised Fauci cut the interview short.

If this were, I don’t know, Politico, the questions would make a lot of sense (they’d still be partisan, but it’s also normal for a political publication to emphasize the political aspect of the pandemic response). This is Science Magazine though. Shouldn’t the interviewer have been a little more interested in, I don’t know, the science? There were maybe two or three questions that had anything to do with the actual nuts and bolts of the pandemic response in the whole interview and the rest was basically concern trolling.

The Democrats have to make everything about Trump. The Republicans have to defend everything Trump does. Nothing ever changes.

By the way, I don’t post comments that use the phrases “Orange Man Bad,” “Trump Derangement Syndrome,” “TDS,” “But Gorsuch,” “But her e-mails,” or any other flippant substitutes for thought.

The post Dr. Fauci Vs. The Ceausescus appeared first on The American Conservative.

On Coronavirus, Reason To Hope

Reader Ryan Booth writes:

Rod, I was one of those screaming at our public officials to shut stuff down. I was extremely frustrated by President Trump’s brushing off of our problem for a long time. I asked my Facebook friends if anyone wanted to help with a recall petition of Governor Edwards, after he took very mild steps against COVID-19 instead of the necessary firmer ones. I bristled with a mixture of horror and astonishment as New Orleans Mayor LaToya Cantrell allowed bars to pack people in last weekend to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. I argued with friends on Facebook who insisted to me that “this is just a cold” and told me that I was irrational and needlessly spreading fear and panic.

So I have consistently supported strong steps to contain this virus, but I have now become very optimistic that the tide is about to turn, and I want to share why.

Testing is about to expand exponentially.

We’ve been steadily growing our testing ability since the outbreak began. America tested 44,176 people today, and every day sees a big increase. Yesterday, we tested 34,654 and it was 27,372 the day before that. A week ago, it was 4,124.

But these increases are small compared to what’s in the pipeline. This week we saw FDA approval of new testing systems from Roche and from Abbott labs that run tests ten times faster than current methods. To give you an idea of what this means, Roche brags that their Cobas 8800 machine can process over 3000 tests per day. Until today, Louisiana hadn’t had a total of 3000 people tested. Roche is now making and shipping 400,000 test kits per week in the US, while Abbott is making a million of their test kits each week. Those systems will be coming online this coming week.

Today, we got even more good news, with Cepheid getting FDA approval for their new test, which will detect the virus in 45 minutes and can be used in over 5000 Cepheid machines already in US hospitals. This will allow hospitals to test all their staff and every incoming patient on a consistent basis, so that we can keep our doctors and nurses safe and our hospitals don’t spread the disease. Those testing kits are getting shipped out this coming week.

And there are more companies in the process of getting approval. In two weeks, we should be able to test 150,000 – 200,000 Americans daily, and that means that we don’t all need to stay home anymore.

Let me explain how this works.

Suppose that Boudreaux, who works for the state of Louisiana, wakes up and has a fever. Right now, it’s not easy for him to get tested – and if he could get tested, he wouldn’t get his results for days. Let’s say that Boudreaux is a good citizen and stays home at this point. That’s great, except that Boudreaux went to work yesterday and exposed his coworker Pierre, and he also got his hair cut and exposed his barber, T-Boy. His wife Marie doesn’t isolate from him, because she thinks that Boudreaux is just lazy and doesn’t want to work, so she is also exposed. Unless Boudreaux gets sick enough that he needs to go to the hospital, he’s not going to be tested, and Pierre, T-Boy, and Marie might all get the virus and – and this is key – then spread it themselves.

That’s been our situation, and the only solution that we’ve had was to keep Boudreaux at home in the first place. That’s why the state is keeping non-essential workers at home. That’s why many places are forcing barbershops to close. So, now, our governmental restrictions keep T-Boy and Pierre from getting infected, though Marie is still at risk.

Now, imagine our original situation with easy, high-speed testing. Boudreaux wakes up with a fever, he goes to the drive-thru testing site and is notified about four hours later that he is positive. Now, everyone in his family and workplace immediately gets tested, as does T-Boy – and the virus does not spread beyond them.

The ability to test everyone who needs to be tested is how South Korea and Singapore have been able to control their outbreaks without significant societal restrictions. Their schools, restaurants, etc. are all open. And their economies are not wrecked. Again, we’ll be at that point in less than two weeks.

Evidence strongly suggests that COVID-19 is seasonal.

A recent Chinese study compared transmission rates for all 100 Chinese cities outside of Wuhan that had at least 40 cases before their national lockdown, to see if the virus spread more slowly in warmer, more humid parts of China. Their conclusion:

“High temperature and high relative humidity significantly reduce the transmission of COVID-19, respectively, even after controlling for population density and GDP per capita of cities … This result is consistent with the fact that the high temperature and high humidity significantly reduce the transmission of influenza. It indicates that the arrival of summer and rainy season in the northern hemisphere can effectively reduce the transmission of the COVID-19.”

That study, as an example, predicted a R value of 1.3 in Tokyo for the Olympics — with zero intervention! (For those of you who don’t know what that means, it means that instead of spreading the disease to about 2.6 people, which is what happens now, the average person would only infect half as many people.) If this study were correct, it would mean that, with some control measures, it would be easy to keep COVID-19 from spreading during the Olympics.

Besides this study, we have the basic observation that the world’s serious outbreaks have occurred in cold, dry weather. Jakarta and Milan both had nonstop flights to Wuhan during Wuhan’s outbreak, but Italy has suffered a horrific crisis and Indonesia has not. Scientists believe that this is because COVID-19 is mainly transmitted by coughing, and the microdroplets emitted when someone coughs travel about twice as far in cold, dry air. Additionally, the water vapor present in humid air interacts with those microdroplets to stop them.

If COVID-19 is indeed a seasonal disease, then we should be able to almost eliminate it this summer, to the point that there will be zero restrictions on ordinary life. Sports leagues can fill stadiums with fans and political conventions can meet, and we won’t have to worry that we’re fanning a new outbreak.

Improved treatment will improve COVID-19 patient outcomes.

If you have watched President Trump on TV or follow him on twitter, then you know that he is hopeful about the promise of chloroquine (and its close relative hydroxychloroquine).

President Trump has perhaps overpromised what chloroquine can do, as the evidence of its benefit is still rather thin. But, if it has any benefit at all, it’s a game-changer in terms of our ICUs. If chloroquine works, it works by lowering the amount of virus in the body. When you combine this with earlier testing, there’s a tremendous advantage. The people who end up in the ICU don’t get there until they’ve been sick for a week or so, as the virus grows in their body and then inflames the alveoli in the lungs, leading to shortness of breath. If chloroquine works, an at-risk patient would be given it right after testing positive, and hopefully, the viral load in their body never gets high enough for the patient to develop severe shortness of breath, and he stays out of the ICU.

A drug like chloroquine doesn’t have to be extremely effective in order to have a huge benefit on our ICU density. A small effect could have a big impact. And if chloroquine turns out not to work, there are other promising drugs such as Remdesivir, though chloroquine has the advantage of being cheap and easy to produce.

Is the situation going to get worse in the US? Yes. Is the end in sight? I believe that it is. I write this to encourage each of you to hold on. If we can stay and home, enduring the claustrophobia, the family bickering, and the often severe economic consequences, we can beat this virus.

I miss my church. A streamed service tomorrow is not a true substitute for the togetherness in Christ that I need more than ever at this time. And my business is suffering. I think that I can make it another month, but I don’t know about longer than that. I expect that our nation’s psychiatrists and therapists are swamped right now, as stress and depression skyrocket.

But there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

The post On Coronavirus, Reason To Hope appeared first on The American Conservative.

Pandemic Diaries 6

From Colorado:

Thanks for running these stories–it’s been strangely comforting to read about other people’s day-to-day experiences over the past few weeks. Makes it all seem a little less surreal and gives me a sense of human connection as we’re all so distanced from each other.

I live in Colorado, where it seems like the government is on the aggressive side in comparison with other states. Not as intense as California and New York, but we’ve been trending just a few days behind those states in terms of restrictions, so we’re just waiting for the stay-at-home order to come in.

My husband and I live in the country with our toddler, next door to my little brother, so we haven’t seen a huge lifestyle change… My husband working from home now instead of going into the office, and I’m not taking our son out to playdates and on adventures. It’s been unnerving for us (like all Americans right now) to have to go to multiple grocery stores just to get basic goods. I haven’t found white flour in two weeks, and today I got the last box of baby wipes at Walmart. I felt a little guilty taking them.

We’re expecting our second baby in three weeks, and I have to admit I’m pretty nervous. I am not prepared mentally, emotionally, or physically for a home birth, so we’re going to the hospital as planned, but I’m so unsettled by the idea of going to a hospital in a county that already has multiple COVID-19 deaths. I struggled with severe postpartum depression after my first, and I am very nervous about what might happen for me psychologically with all of this happening at the same time. In addition, my mother has stage four cancer and is quarantined at home with my dad, and my in-laws who were planning to come out and meet the new baby are probably not going to make it. It’s a small thing, but I was looking so forward to feeling surrounded by family with this birth (last time we did not live near any family), and it does not look like that will happen.

We’re trying to support our local businesses as much as we can, but I’m getting more and more nervous about even going into a coffee shop to pick up pastries for take-out, so I’m not sure how long we’ll be able to keep that up. It’s been very strange to have no public Masses (they’ve all be cancelled in Colorado); I didn’t realize till now just how much going to Mass regulated my life. We’re streaming online from the FSSP and that has been good, but of course is not the same.

All that said, we feel pretty blessed that we’re both able to work from home, and that so far everybody is healthy. Prayers going out for everybody affected by this, and I wish there was more we could do.

From Jamaica:

As of March 21 there are 19 identified cases, 1 death. Our patient zero came in from the UK, followed by a person from NY. The eastern section of the island has been quarantined, as patient zero attended a funeral and it is not clear how many were affected. All schools and universities etc. are closed. Yesterday the government closed the island to all incoming passenger flights/boats. This is devastating as we rely on tourism for much of our income (35% of GDP).

The positive: While there is no real safety net here, healthcare is heavily subsidized by the government. Cuba has sent close to 100 nurses/doctors to strengthen local care. The largest rum company is mass producing hand sanitizer – it is being made available to buses, taxis, supermarkets etc. People are cooperating and using it before boarding/shopping. Crime has plummeted – I guess even criminals are afraid of the contagion…

The negative: Some taxis are refusing to pick up nurses/hospital staff – the police have promised to prosecute offenders. We are chronically short of equipment in hospitals – we certainly don’t have enough ventilators – so the only option is to be strict with quarantines; soldiers are being used to enforce lock downs. Price gouging is a problem; snake oil cures are a problem.

We are a poor country, but the population is actually pretty satisfied with the job the Ministry of Health is doing.

The government has also called for two days of prayer and fasting. That is a comfort to a lot of Jamaicans, even if it is a sign that very little is in our control on a small island that earns its living by being open.

From Concord, New Hampshire:

Greetings from New Hampshire, the “Live Free or Die” state. Like our motto, the mood here is turning fairly grim. I live in Concord, the state capital, and last week as I went about my business—to the supermarket, the bank, and church—folks seemed somewhat skeptical about the actual direness of the situation. Yes, shelves were emptying fast at the supermarket, but many people seemed to think the whole thing was a joke. Among the giddy crowd hoarding groceries, I saw only two people wearing gloves and covering their faces (with scarves, not masks), and each of them was met by mocking sneers from a number of fellow shoppers. This Saturday, on my return to the same store, many older folks were now wearing surgical masks and plastic gloves. Yet more noticeable than this was the collective mood: the “Snow Day” atmosphere of the previous week was no more, replaced instead by an eerie sobriety, an unnerving solemnity, almost a sense of doom.

Closer to home, I worry about family. My parents live nearby and they are elderly and in poor health. My father especially is in a vulnerable state: he has leukemia and heart trouble and each breath he takes is accompanied by a painful wheeze. Yet is he taking COVID-19 seriously? Hell no. He’s a Trump and a Fox News guy, and thinks the whole thing is overblown by the press. So he continues to go about his normal routine, heading off to his gun club during the week to be with his buddies. Of course I love my father and I don’t want to judge him—his life is nearing its end, and I wish him to be as happy as possible in the time he has left. But what if he catches the virus? Not only would he die within days, but no doubt he would pass it on to my mother and, because the rest of the family would rush to their sides to care for them, he would then pass it on to us. Hopefully in the coming days, as the cases and deaths in the country continue their inexorable rise, he will reconsider his behavior.

As for me, like everyone else who is paying attention I fear not just for myself and my loved ones but for the country and the world. Economies collapsing, mass unemployment, social unrest, lives lost, futures ruined, governments curtailing civil liberties and grabbing ever more power at home and possibly waging wars abroad—all are very real possibilities that could commence very soon. Last Sunday I went to church, and this Sunday I was forced to watch it on TV. As the liturgy began, the camera panned from the priest to all the empty seats, and I, very unexpectedly, became emotional, eyes stinging and tears spilling down my cheeks. I’m still not sure why this happened—for one thing, I knew the seats would be empty; after all, that’s why I was home watching on TV. Perhaps it was because a liturgy without the faithful had previously been, for me, unthinkable, unimaginable. Or perhaps it was something even more ominous, something existential—a sense that the thing most dearest to my heart was in jeopardy of being lost, possibly forever.

From Charlotte, North Carolina, filmmaker Rick Rotondi writes:

I wanted to share this photo from Charlotte’s Freedom Park of the marriage of Charles and Kayla Conoly. It’s an example of what love looks like in a time of pandemic.

No bridesmaids. No groomsmen. No packed congregation, or reception to follow. Just simple vows before a few close friends and passersby, separated by 6 feet.

Two weeks ago parkgoers would barely have noticed. Today we few lucky enough to witness stayed, watched (at a safe distance), and cheered. We know what we’ve lost in the last weeks. And we see what we still have, more clearly than ever. It was another “seeing the Parthenon” moment, such as you experienced streaming your parish’s Divine Liturgy. One of the surprise blessings of these times.

From Delaware, Ohio:

The Governor of Ohio just issued a Stay at Home Order shutting down all non-essential businesses through April 6. I fully expect this will be extended further. We have been slowly heading this way for the past week and a half. The schools closed last Monday and the boys are transitioning to online learning. My employer, a nearby local government, has had voluntary telecommuting in place for the past week. I guess that becomes mandatory for those of us who are able to starting tomorrow. Police, Fire, Sanitation, Water and Wastewater field personnel are considered essential and will still need to report to work. There really are many government employees whose work is necessary for society to function. They perform the jobs no one thinks about until the system breaks. Think about it when you get a glass of tap water or wash your hands or flush the toilet.

The weather here is still hit or miss. Cold and rainy mostly but today we had sun and the temps hit the low 40’s so my wife and I went for a walk around our neighborhood after church (online). We saw maybe a dozen people outside, the streets were mostly deserted. When we got back home I threw the football around with the boys in the back yard. I have four teenage sons. They are all athletes and very active. They are missing their team mates and my wife and I are missing the outlet for all their energy. My oldest is very discouraged as he is a swimmer and has been training the past eight months for Y Nationals in North Carolina. That meet, along with all the other championship meets were canceled. He is a junior in high school and is stressed about how all of this will affect his college recruiting. My second son is holding up well but is missing his track buddies and it looks like his spring basketball league may not be happening. The twins are taking things in stride.

The biggest problem we face is keeping enough food in the house. Active teenage boys eat a lot.

I have been checking in with my parents via the phone. They live about an hour north of here in an independent living community that is owned by their church. They are doing well, all things considered. They both have serious health issues and have been staying at home. I visited them in person two Sundays ago. I just felt convicted to head up on a whim and am glad I did so now. I don’t know when I will be able to see them in person again. I firmly believe that the Holy Spirit was convicting me to make that visit. I also checked in with an elderly couple up the street yesterday and made sure they were doing alright.

From San Antonio:

It’s almost embarrassing how little my daily routine has changed since the advent of the coronavirus. My wife and I work at home, and most weekdays we leave the house only for daily Mass. We have one employee who normally works at our home, but we asked her to work from her own home beginning last Monday; a step we thought prudent if not overly cautious since she had traveled to another part of the state the previous weekend.

During the week prior to March 15, the Archbishop of San Antonio suspended all Sunday Masses. At our Ordinariate parish the Masses continued as regularly scheduled on the 15th. We attended the 7:00 am low Mass hoping to avoid the larger numbers at the later sung Masses. Alas, the church was full, both with other parishioners seeking to avoid the crowds and members of the archdiocese not content to have been absolved from Sunday Mass observance.

Early last next week, our pastor began celebrating daily Mass in a private manner, meaning the faithful were able to attend the priest’s private celebration but not able to receive the Sacrament. Fortunately, these celebrations were moved from the small chapel to the main sanctuary. We were getting nervous about the close quarters in the chapel.

By the middle of the week, the bishop of the Ordinariate suspended all public Masses for Ordinariate parishes. On Thursday we found out that a member of the parish tested positive for COVID-19. The parishioner attended the 10:00 am Saturday Mass on March 14, which I also attended. The virus has come close to home.

Now my wife and I begin our day with Morning Prayer and Rosary at the makeshift family altar set up in our living room. Friday evening we returned to our little chapel for Stations. This morning we watched (and participated in, if such is possible) the a celebration of Mass recorded earlier today. This is something I though I’d never do.

We’re still having my very healthy 83-year-old mother over for dinner, but encouraging her not to go out otherwise. My wife and I tell ourselves this is ok since we’re both isolating and taking lots of precautions. Mom is cooperating mostly and has agreed to let my wife take care of her groceries, principally through online order/delivery.

I’ve been spending too much time analyzing the reported rates of infection in various countries, states and cities, and taking (false?) comfort in the low number of cases in Texas relative to its population.

Looking at cases by population is illuminating. Iceland is off the charts, with nearly twice the rate of infection as Italy. Luxembourg isn’t far behind. These numbers could be accounted for by higher rates of testing made possible in small countries with sophisticated healthcare systems. But what does that say for the rest of us?

Switzerland is approaching the same rate of infection as Italy. New York has slightly higher numbers than Spain, again relative to total population. New York has 7.7 times the rate of infection as the U.S. as a whole. As of the latest numbers compiled by Johns Hopkins, 45% of all U.S. cases are in New York.

The reported numbers for India are impossibly low. Likewise Mexico. Both countries have low rates of testing and tepid responses to the pandemic. I fear both are headed for unmitigated catastrophe.

Last week I chatted with a business contact who lives in a fairly large city about 90 miles from Mumbai. She and her husband are Indian nationals who lived for a few years in the Southeastern U.S. She tells me Indians just don’t go to the doctor or hospital when sick, so the rates of testing there are minimal. The most local health officials can do is to ask those few who do test positive for all their recent contacts, and try to test and isolate all of those contacts.

After reading the post from the Florida supermarket employee, I realized one aspect of this situation that hasn’t become real to me is the panic buying. My wife does the grocery shopping so I haven’t witnessed first-hand the lines and empty shelves at the local grocery chain.

The potential economic consequences are more real to me, but still somewhat surreal. One becomes too accustomed to reading about catastrophes one never fully experiences.

My view of the situation is naturally framed by the industry in which I work. We run a small business that serves a segment of the hotel real estate industry.

In what seemed like a matter of hours, the public response among hotel companies went from complete denial to candid acknowledgement of the severity of the problem. But this came only after their appeals for a “balanced” approach to the crisis and encouragement of continued “safe” travel (bolstered by promises of enhanced sanitation protocols) fell completely flat.

The hotel industry’s change of posture also coincided with a White House meeting in which company executives pleaded for a massive bailout. Not one to let a good crisis go to waste, the CEO of Airbnb is lobbying congress for tax breaks on behalf of the company’s U.S. hosts. Apparently, these industry disruptors have now become so integral to the U.S. economy as to deserve special tax treatment.

Last week my wife and I were to attend a large industry conference in Atlanta. Tuesday of the previous week we decided the trip would be unwise. Airplanes, airports and national/international conferences full of globe-trotting business types are like petri dishes for the cultivation of this virus.

The conference organizers (hotel industry leaders no doubt wanting to set an example of resilience to the traveling public) remained defiant until just days before the conference was to begin. Finally the event was canceled.

But just because industry executives are consummate opportunists doesn’t mean the financial carnage isn’t real.

On Thursday, the cancer-stricken CEO of Marriott released a video message declaring COVID-19 to be having “a more severe and sudden financial impact” on the company than 9/11 and the 2009 financial crisis combined. Marriott has seen revenues drop by 90% in China and 75% in most other world markets. By comparison, the company’s worst quarter during the previous crises was off 25%. The company is closing hotels and furloughing tens of thousands of workers in hotels and its corporate offices. Marriott has ceased brand marketing initiatives and is even suspending non-essential travel. A hospitality company suspending travel! The downstream effects will be enormous.

Admirably, Marriott’s CEO and Chairman pledged to forego any further compensation for the balance of the year, and the CEO’s executive team will take a 50% pay cut. It’s encouraging to see this type of gesture, which might have been taken for granted in earlier times. My cynical side says: It remains to be seen whether this is only an accounting maneuver that excludes other forms of compensation.

Though our own business hasn’t dropped off as sharply as Marriott’s, a prolonged travel shutdown and the resulting effects upon hotel development and hotel real estate transactions could be catastrophic for us. For now, we can only keep calm and carry on, as much as is possible given the realities of the situation. And we do so with the knowledge that carrying on could become significantly more difficult in the weeks to come. We will do what we can to continue serving the needs of our clients, but if across-the-board budget cuts are widely enacted, as they most certainly will be in a prolonged shutdown, we will find ourselves on the chopping block along with many others.

This past week I’ve begun to realize how much I, like the Rich Fool, have taken comfort in stored up goods, be it my now-shrinking retirement account, the equity in our home or the sweat equity I hope I’ve accumulated during my two decades in business. I am not rich, but I’ve given far too much thought to scenarios under which I might someday retire with little financial concern. All that could dissolve in a very short period of time. If that were to happen, could I give thanks to God not in spite of it, but because of it? Though I haven’t the fortitude to embrace poverty voluntarily, I know it would benefit my soul. If I believe what I say I believe, how could I not give thanks?

From Nashville:

It’s Saturday the 21st, I’ve been working remotely from home for the last week, my wife (SAHM) cares for the three children. Found out on Tuesday that a co-worker I had last seen on last Friday had tested positive for coronavirus, so I’ve been in self-quarantine since then. No symptoms so far.

Early this week the mayor ordered all bars and restaurants closed, including the tourist bars on Broadway. I decided this evening after the kids were down that a little driving, not getting out of the car but only wandering the highways, would be good for my sanity. I grew up on the open roads of West Texas, and just driving and thinking has always been relaxing. So I drove downtown.

Normally on Saturday night in Nashville, Broadway would be undrivable with all the partiers, college kids, brides-to-be, musicians, everybody spilling out into the street from the sidewalks, as various buses, tractors, and pedal taverns carry drinking revelers around. Tonight I drove down a side street, came to First Ave along the river, and then turned up Broadway. All the bars were lit up in neon like any night, but they were closed. Maybe a dozen people wandered the sidewalks on groups of two or three.

It was eerie and quiet, except for a slight sound of someone that I couldn’t quite make out from inside my car.

Then I looked to the right, and I saw a black man in a full tuxedo, swaying lightly with a microphone in hand next to his amplifier, crooning away as the neon lights danced about him.

I suppose he makes his living busking, and buskers don’t get paid sitting at home. We’ve all been upended by this emergency. But there will be nothing as surreal as a black man dressed up with nowhere else to go, singing in front of a closed honky-tonk beneath the yellow and blue flashing lights, singing to no one at all, in the hope that someone passes by and gives him a dollar to help see him though the next week.

The post Pandemic Diaries 6 appeared first on The American Conservative.

The Present Apocalypse

The word “apocalypse” comes from the Greek word meaning “to uncover,” or “to reveal.” In English Bibles, the word we use for the final book of the Bible is “Revelation,” which is to say, “Apocalypse.”

Cards on the table: I’m not saying that we are now in the Apocalypse. No man knows the day or the hour. But we are undoubtedly in an apocalypse, and the most serious of our lifetime. We Christians need to talk about this. The fact that there are always Christians ready to scream their heads off about the End of the World doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t consider the meaning of what’s happening now. It may not be the end of the world, but it is without question the end of a world.

Two things this morning prompted me to think along these lines. The first was last night’s earthquake in Croatia. A friend in Zagreb sent me this image of the inside of the city’s Jesuit church:

The second thing was this report on the economic catastrophe overtaking the world. Economists have nothing to compare it to:

Today came news from Italy that the state has ordered all non-essential factories closed, in a desperate bid to slow down the disease. The government is sacrificing the national economy to save lives. Nobody can imagine that any government would choose that path unless it were absolutely necessary. And nobody should imagine that the Italian government will be the last one to take this extreme move.

We should all prepare ourselves, psychologically and otherwise, for the coming chaos. We are going to be poor. We should do this as soberly as possible, but we should do this. Economic collapse is the kind of thing that can bring down a political system. When Russia collapsed after the fall of communism, the economy, already weak, was absolutely crushed. People suffered terribly. This is what eventually brought Putin to power, democratically: the suffering Russian people could not bear the incompetence of the state’s response under Yeltsin.

It is extremely difficult for Americans, who have known no other form of government than liberal democracy, to conceive of our constitutional order falling apart. This could do it. Mass death and economic collapse could create the conditions under which most Americans would accept some form of strongman rule as a better alternative. We have to hope and pray that it doesn’t get so bad, and work against that possibility, but it could happen here. American exceptionalism will be a victim of this pandemic. If the present government is revealed to be looking after patrician interests over the interests of the common people, God help them. I’m thinking about Sen. Burr, with his stock trades, but I’m also thinking about President Trump and Steven Mnuchin. This tweet from a left-wing activist may not be reliable, but if these people are even thinking about this, it is time to crush those thoughts now. The fury that will be unleashed on these leaders will be straight fire:

From the GOP bill page 391… per a dem source: “appears to be a Secret Bailout Authority. Trump/Mnuchin can make a loan, guarantee, or other investment in Goldman Sachs or even the Trump Org and keep it secret for 6 months..”

— Michelangelo Signorile (@MSignorile) March 22, 2020

Again, this may not be true, but it is certainly plausible. If the Republicans think this is going to pass muster with the American people, especially after most of us have been made poor, they are deranged.

I have been thinking for a while now that something catastrophic would come along that would empower the State to crush Christianity. I have not been able to imagine realistically what that might be. Well, now I know. It is not that the State will immediately turn to persecuting believers. It’s that a prolonged emergency, if it produces an authoritarian system, and a caudillo, will have the power to do exactly this.

All around America, and in Europe, churches are closed for the second Sunday running. I believe this is the right thing to do. I strongly commend to you David French’s essay about the difference between Christian courage and Christian vainglory. He begins by talking about a Christian school in Nashville that held a fundraiser on March 7 — an event that ended up spreading the virus to a lot of folks. Excerpt:

There exists within Christianity a temptation to performative acts that masquerade as fearlessness. In reality, this recklessness represents—as the early church father John Chrysostom called it—“display and vainglory.” Look how fearless we are, we declare, as we court risks that rational people should shun. In the context of a global pandemic followers of Christ can actually become a danger to their fellow citizens, rather than a source of help and hope.

Or, put another way, reckless Christians can transform themselves from angels of mercy to angels of death, and the rest of the world would be right to fear their presence. [Emphasis mine — RD]

But just as Christ rejected performative displays, he also rejected cowardice. He demands sacrifice even unto death. Yet taking up one’s cross in imitation of Christ means engaging in purposeful sacrifice. This is the risk of the doctor or the nurse who possesses the courage to continually expose himself or herself to deadly disease to care for the sick and dying. This is the risk of the faithful believer who sheds personal protection to care for the least of these so that they are not alone.

And this person does not then walk into church or to church events—or even surround herself with her own family—to prove God’s divine protection. Were the men and women who were infected at a church event in Nashville not faithful Christians who were fearlessly serving the Lord? Yet one man’s infection still became their infection, and now dozens of people are paying a steep price.

A nation that has seen mass death, and widespread impoverishment, and all of it coming down suddenly, will be a nation susceptible to scapegoating. There will be bad actors from all places — the left, the right, religious, secular, of all races — taking advantage of fear and pain to bring harm to those they hate. All of us have to fight back against this, even if the scapegoating doesn’t affect us. My point is that it is completely possible that the scapegoating can turn against Christians. We have to prepare ourselves for that possibility. The best way to prepare for it is to behave now as the Christians did in the early church: by being of service to the sick and the suffering. But even that might not be enough. In the year 64, Nero scapegoated Rome’s Christians to shift blame for the devastating fire. The historian Tacitus wrote:

Therefore, to stop the rumor [that he had set Rome on fire], he [Emperor Nero] falsely charged with guilt, and punished with the most fearful tortures, the persons commonly called Christians, who were [generally] hated for their enormities. Christus, the founder of that name, was put to death as a criminal by Pontius Pilate, procurator of Judea, in the reign of Tiberius, but the pernicious superstition – repressed for a time, broke out yet again, not only through Judea, – where the mischief originated, but through the city of Rome also, whither all things horrible and disgraceful flow from all quarters, as to a common receptacle, and where they are encouraged. Accordingly first those were arrested who confessed they were Christians; next on their information, a vast multitude were convicted, not so much on the charge of burning the city, as of “hating the human race.”

This might not happen to us in the days to come. I don’t think it will. But things are happening today that few of us could have imagined as recently as last month. I don’t say these things to frighten my fellow Christians, but only to make you aware of how quickly the situation could get very dark indeed. We need to make ourselves ready.

This crisis will likely last a year and a half, which is how long it may take to come up with a vaccine, barring some miracle. I anticipate that the crisis will result in a vastly more powerful state, one that follows China’s example in using information technology and advanced artificial intelligence to monitor individuals much more closely. The justification will be to be alert for recurrence of disease. It will also, though, empower the state — as in China today — to monitor all our activities. For a preview of what China can and does do right now, I strongly encourage you to read journalist Kai Strittmatter’s book We Have Been Harmonized: Life In China’s Surveillance State. When I wrote my forthcoming book, Live Not By Lies, I drew on Strittmatter’s reporting. The only reason the US Government doesn’t do the same thing here is not technological limitations, but political ones. Americans wouldn’t stand for it. But we Americans have already welcomed monitoring into our lives via our smartphones, smart speakers, and many other aspects of our consumer lives. The questions is not whether or not Americans will consent to be monitored. The question is whether or not we will consent to the government taking a controlling hand in it.

A prolonged crisis that kills hundreds of thousands, and impoverishes hundreds of millions, could change a lot of people’s minds.

This current apocalypse reveals to us how fragile our way of life is — and always was. From a Christian point of view, this is unquestionably a call to repentance and conversion. 

Here are the final paragraphs of my 2017 book The Benedict Option (here’s a Kindle link):

The Benedictine monks of Norcia have become a sign to the world in ways I did not anticipate when I began writing this book. In August 2016, a devastating earthquake shook their region. When the quake hit in the middle of the night, the monks were awake to pray Matins, and fled the monastery for the safety of the open-air piazza. Father Cassian later reflected that the earthquake symbolized the crumbling of the West’s Christian culture, but that there was a second, hopeful symbol that night.

“The second symbol is the gathering of the people around the statue of St. Benedict in the piazza in order to pray,” he wrote to supporters. “That is the only way to rebuild.”

The tremors left the basilica church too structurally unstable for worship, and most of the monastery uninhabitable. The brothers evacuated the town and moved to their land up the mountainside, just outside of the Norcia walls. They pitched tents in the ruins of an older monastery, and continued their prayer life, interrupted only by visits to the town to minister to its people.

The monks received distinguished visitors in their exile, including Italy’s prime minister Matteo Renzi, and Cardinal Robert Sarah, who heads the Vatican’s liturgical office. Cardinal Sarah blessed the monks’ temporary quarters, celebrated mass with them, then told them that their tent monastery “reminds me of Bethlehem, where it all began.”

“I am certain that the future of the Church is in the monasteries,” said the cardinal, “because where prayer is, there is the future.”

Five days later, more earthquakes shook Norcia. The cross atop the basilica’s façade toppled to the ground. And then, early in the morning of Sunday October 30, the strongest earthquake to hit Italy in thirty years struck, its epicenter just north of the town. The 14th century Basilica of St. Benedict, the patron saint of Europe, fell violently to the ground. Only its façade remained. Not a single church in Norcia remained standing.

With dust still rising from the rubble, Father Basil knelt on the stones of the piazza, facing the ruined basilica, and accompanied by nuns and a few elderly Norcini, including one in a wheelchair, prayed. Later, amateur video posted to YouTube showed Father Basil, Father Benedict, and Father Martin running through the streets of the rubble-strewn town, looking for the dying who needed last rites. By the grace of God, there were none.

Back in America, Father Richard Cipolla, a Catholic priest in Connecticut and an old friend of Father Benedict’s, e-mailed the subprior when he heard the news of the latest quake.

“Is there damage? What is going on?” Father Cipolla wrote.

“Yes, damage much worse,” Father Benedict replied. “But we are OK. Much to tell you but just pray. I am well and God continues to purify us and bring very good things.”

The next morning, as the sun rose over Norcia, Father Benedict sent a message to the monastery’s friends all over the world. He said that no Norcini lost their lives in the quake because they had heeded the warnings from the earlier tremors, and left town.

“[God] spent two months preparing us for the complete destruction of our patron’s church so that when it finally happened we would watch it, in horror but in safety, from atop the town,” the priest-monk wrote.

Father Benedict added, “These are mysteries which will take years – not days or months – to understand.”

Surely that is true. But notice this: the earth moved, and the Basilica of St. Benedict, which had stood firm for many centuries, tumbled to the ground. Only the façade, the mere semblance of a church, remains. Because the monks headed for the hills after the August earthquake, they survived. God preserved them in the holy poverty of their canvas-covered Bethlehem, where they continued to live the Rule in the ancient way, including chanting the Old Mass. Now they can begin the rebuilding amid the ruins, their resilient Benedictine faith teaching them to receive this catastrophe as a call to deeper holiness and sacrifice. God willing, new life will one day spring forth from the rubble.

“We pray and watch from the mountainside, thinking of the long three years Saint Benedict spent in the cave before God decided to call him out to become a light to the world,” wrote Father Benedict. “Fiat. Fiat”.

Let it be. Let it be.

He who has ears to hear, let him hear what the Spirit is saying to the churches.

It was true then, it is true now. This sickness and poverty overtaking us offer us a chance to purify our lives. In a message today, the Orthodox priest Father Andrew Stephen Damick urges the faithful to use this time away from church to strengthen ourselves in the habits of spiritual discipline. Excerpt:

So, what do we do? How do we make sure that we take up this cross in such a way that it is in fact joined with the Lord’s cross? How do we prepare now for the return to church?

First, it is utterly critical that you are practicing daily prayer, at least every morning and, God willing, every night, as well. It is hard to establish this habit, I know, but do it now. You may not be able to participate in the sacrifice of the altar right now, but you can offer up the sacrifice of praise and asking for forgiveness and mercy at home. And pray those pre-communion prayers even if you don’t know when you’ll receive communion next. I’m serious about that.

Second, if you live with a family, pray together. Read the Scriptures together. Talk about your faith together. Right now, the community with whom they usually do these things cannot come together. But you are together. Do this together.

Third, set a schedule to practice care for your neighbor—your family first, then the people near you whom God has given you. Check in with them, ask what they need. If you don’t make that into a habit now, you will be neglecting someone God gave you—and you should not be surprised if, when you are in need, you are also being neglected.

Fourth, figure out a way to be consistent in giving to God both through the church and also through other worthy outlets. Mail it in, give through PayPal, automatic bank draft—whatever it is you need to do. If you neglect this habit now, then you will be the kind of person who is not giving as God commanded. Your belief in supporting good works will be eroded by your failure to support good works.

Finally, connect to church life in whatever way you can right now—live-streaming services, reading or listening to good things sent out from church leaders, spiritual books, etc. These things are not substitutes for being there in-person, but they are at least stop-gaps for the moment.

In short, develop habits of worship, education and outreach that you can do at home and that shape your daily life.

If you do these things, then when the time comes to return to church, it will be with rejoicing. If you do not do these things, then there is a very strong possibility that you will have become conditioned by the “new normal,” becoming the kind of person who believes that the norms for Christian life in the New Covenant are not actually really the norms. I mean, I can love God and believe in Him anywhere, right?

I will leave you finally with this thought: Here now is where taking up this cross is not actually just a temporary set of measures to get us through until we can come back to church. Here now is where taking up this cross actually is going to make us stronger, holier, more Christ-like people. How?

When we do come back to church, keep doing these things. That’s right. Keep up the daily worship at home, keep up talking about the faith at home, keep up outreach to your family and neighbors at home, keep up your giving to Christ at home, keep up connecting to good materials at home.

Why? Because that is what we should have been doing all along anyway! This crisis we are now in has revealed to many of us—including myself—how weak we are on the home front of the spiritual battle. Now is the time to become strong. Now is the time to sanctify our homes. Now is the time to commend ourselves and each other and our whole life unto Christ our God.

Read it all. Father Damick is right: this apocalypse reveals how weak spiritually we are, and gives us the opportunity to rebuild ourselves and our families. We are all forcibly cloistered these days. Let’s turn this time to the good by developing monastic habits. These habits will help build us up to endure whatever persecutions may come. The Benedict Option gives you more specific ideas.

Three years ago, Patriarch Kyrill, the head of the Russian Orthodox Church, said that the Apocalypse was drawing near. Well, maybe. We know from Christian history, there have been people saying the End Times are upon us since the first generation of Christian. One of these days, though, these doomsayers are going to be right. To repeat the message with which we started: we don’t know if this is the End of History, but we can say confidently that it is the End of a period in history, and the start of something new. The easy, comfortable Christianity that most of us have been living will not endure this time of testing. I am thinking right now of this line from The Benedict Option, referring to my first meeting Father Cassian Folsom, then the prior of the Norcia monastery, in 2015:

When I first told Father Cassian about the Benedict Option, he mulled my words and replied gravely, “Those who don’t do some form of what you’re talking about, they’re not going to make it through what’s coming.”

Handwriting on the wall, my fellow Christians. Handwriting on the wall.

UPDATE: This is what the new technology will mean. Now imagine an anti-Christian state doing this if they track you to church:

My phone, which is satellite-tracked by the Taiwan gov to enforce quarantine, ran out of battery at 7:30 AM. By 8:15, four different units called me. By 8:20, the police were knocking at my door.

— Milo Hsieh (@MiloHsieh) March 22, 2020

UPDATE.2: At the height of the Great Depression, 1933, the unemployment rate was 24.9 percent:

JUST IN: Fed's Bullard says U.S. unemployment rate may hit 30% in the second quarter https://t.co/kdy6npXQAS

— Bloomberg (@business) March 22, 2020

The post The Present Apocalypse appeared first on The American Conservative.

View From Your Table

My backyard right now. Guess which one of the family is not playing Sorry, but is instead reading Hungarian poetry? Believe it or not, this makes me really happy!

The post View From Your Table appeared first on The American Conservative.

Pandemic Diaries 5

From Chicago:

My wife, age 62, and I, age 68, are both Boomers. We also are in a slow motion move from Chicagoland to San Antonio. We have houses in both places. My wife and disabled adult daughter live full time in San Antonio as do my daughter, son-in-law, #2 son, and two grandchildren.

My plan was to fly down on Saturday, March 14, 2020 for a court hearing on transferring my daughter’s guardianship from Illinois to Texas. On Thursday March 12 my company directed all personnel who could work from their homes to do so. By 1 p.m. Friday I was on my way to San Antonio, driving instead of flying. By that evening, my company’s work from home directive was extended to April 15.

So I was on the road all weekend. Being almost 70 I can’t drive straight through anymore so there were two nights in a large chain hotel. I passed on the breakfast bar. I had to think through meals. So it was limited to drive-thru at two chains I felt reasonably certain had adequate meal preparation hygiene.

The drive had a weird Mad Max Apocalypse feel to it. Internal to me I’m sure. There was no craziness with the other drivers or such like. No outward signs of concern, distress, or panic. But that was a week ago.

On the concern continuum running from 0 to 100, with 0 being toilet-seat-licking, bar crawling, beach twerking crazy, and 100 being full pull up the drawbridge and stay in isolation for the duration, I’m about an 80. Saying home except for essential business. Essential business definitely includes the court hearing which was done from the attorney’s office using Facetime. It was successful. While I was out I dropped off a package at UPS and picked up some takeout.

Yesterday my daughter’s company directed work-from-home after an employee turned up symptomatic with COVID-19. My son is active duty Army, and people with his MOS have also been directed to work from home. My son’s college’s physical plant has been completely shut down, everything is online.

Watching business news right now. Two weeks in lockdown while we get sorted out and figure out what to do makes sense. After that civil governments at all levels are going to have to offer very compelling reasons to keep us in lockdown (like an actual, not predicted, exponential increase in hospitalizations and deaths). Continuing to ban mass gatherings like sports events, concerts, fiesta, etc. makes sense. Continue any business that can, employees work remote. But for small businesses like bars, restaurants, “non essential” retail outlets (book stores, haberdashers if there is such a thing any more, etc.), hairdressers and barbers, etc. there could be modifications to their operating licenses in terms of density of patrons, snap health inspections including taking employee temperatures, extra sanitizing between patrons, etc, but let them open up again if they can.

It seems likely the Federal government will soon send money to all of us. The amount is yet to be determined. Speculation on the Interwebz currently puts it at $1200 per adult.

How will you spend it? This comment is directed to those of you who don’t need it. You know who you are. My wife and I don’t need it. We’re drawing Social Security and I’m still working a good middle-income job with great benefits where I’ve been directed to work from home for the duration. While we’re not champagne-swilling, truffle and caviar noshing plutocrats, we’re doing OK.

Our plan is to look for individuals in our church and neighborhood who need it, and put some of it directly into their hands. We’re going to patronize local businesses first, then small-to-medium Internet business. Amazing.com will be a last resort. We’re going to over-tip on take-out and drive-through orders.

Throwing it open to the comment section. What will you do with your check?

Finally, on the lighter side, Chicago Tribune reporting on Illinois Governor Pritzker’s lockdown order contains the following paragraph:

The order even allows liquor stores and recreational cannabis dispensaries to remain open for business should the second week of impromptu homeschooling create an essential need.

The Chicago Tribune outdoes The Babylon Bee.

From San Diego:

I am one of six children from a Catholic immigrant family. My older brother is a priest here in San Diego, one of my sisters is a doctor in a Catholic family practice, and a younger brother is in the NYC finance world. I run a national non-profit that serves 4200+ children from underserved communities. My 5-year-old son (a miracle baby) has chronic lung disease, and my 75-year-old father is recently home from rehab for a bad hip fracture.

When our governor banned all gatherings of 250+ (the right call), my family and I all got on a conference call brainstorming with my priest brother on how he could make this a prayerful and spiritually transforming Lent for his parishioners. He tripled confessions and added 6-hour adoration daily. He is hosting his first virtual mass this Sunday. We were all heartbroken not to have the Eucharist this Lent—but my brother (a former corporate lawyer) sees the potential in this crisis to bring many souls closer to Christ—with the right leadership. He’s working thoughtfully you build a real virtual parish, and has been creative about things like continuing to give out food to vulnerable families via a drive-through.

Because of my son’s susceptibility to pneumonia, my husband and I pulled out two children from school before they had closed. Hubby works part-time as a youth minister at night—so he’s heroically taken on homeschooling our two little ones. There is a lot of chaos during the day, but I love him for this small sacrifice, and I know our children are basking in the extra time with dad.

My sister is seeing many more patients who hysterically think they have COVID-19, though none of their symptoms align with what we know about the virus (one said he thought he had Coronavirus because “his armpits hurt”). I tried not to laugh.

My brother in finance believes he got COVID-19 on a work trip to Mexico City when he took the time to visit the Virgen of Guadalupe. Cough and shortness of breath, but no fever (which is true of many cases). He is self-isolating for 14 days. He is convinced that he will lose his job in the near future, as his firm had taken a huge financial hit. We are praying for him.

It took all six of my mom’s kids to convince her to take this threat seriously. She’s the smartest person I know, but has been in denial until recently. She is taking care of my dad, who is learning how to walk, and practicing aggressive social distancing. We have set up a daily FaceTime with her and my dad so they can see the children. My parents are going to get more lonely, but I tell them this too shall pass. These days, I don’t worry about my father dying—I worry about him suffering. I cannot get out of my head your story of what it is like to be on a ventilator.

My work has been non-stop. All 16 of our schools are closed, and my amazing team has handed out books, computers, grab-and-go meals, and non-perishables for families who cannot afford food right now. We are raising money to give caregivers who have already lost their jobs checks to keep the heat on. One of my colleagues had her fourth child two weeks ago, and she was at our school until 9p Thursday night giving out computers and food to our families. I cannot tell you how much hope my staff gives me.

While I was a prepper (thanks to your blog), I am very concerned the remedy now may be worse than the illness. California is in full lock-down statewide—and so many of my friends who have small businesses are laying off employees and won’t survive if these measures last more than another week or two.

I’d like you see you highlight the many stories of hope—of the small (and large) sacrifices so many are making for the good of others. This pandemic can bring out the worst or the best in people—and I’m rooting on the best.

I wish you and yours well. I’m praying!

From Alabama:

In this midst of this crisis, God’s indwelling creative love continues to be revealed.  This morning, and after 17 long days of waiting that seemed an eternity for the preschoolers, the first of our quail eggs hatched.  They keep emerging–so far we’re at 7 of 49; not all will make it, but Lord willing, many more will.


The egg is a traditional symbol of Easter because after weeks of appearing like a lifeless stone, God’s work of new life suddenly emerges in a new creature.  We aren’t to Easter Sunday yet, but in this Lenten season, tiny miracles like this should give us hope.  God has not abandoned us to this pandemic, or to death more generally.  He is at work even when we can not discern it.  He rose from the dead to deliver us from death, both physical and spiritual.

It is indeed springtime.  Life is emerging.  There is much cause for hope, and none for despair.

Of course, these joys are best appreciated at a safe distance from those outside your family–I cannot emphasize too strongly the importance of social distancing in reducing the demand on not only our medical infrastructure, but also our fire departments, police, military, food distribution, and all other necessary infrastructure.

James 1:2-4 “My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations;knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.”

From the Upper Midwest:

I work as a law clerk to a federal judge in an upper mid-western state, and I thought I’d write to let you know about the effect our globe-trotting pathogen is having on my little slice of the world. A couple of weeks ago, an email went out from the chief judge instructing us all to make preparations to telecommute if necessary; a week later, I found myself sitting at home doing just that. The federal courthouse here is still open, sort of, but there are precious few people inside save for the janitors, court security officers, and Marshals who have no choice but to be there. My impression is that most chambers are working from home now (as are most lawyers around here in general).

Being a part of the federal judiciary is a funny thing, because while we’re as white collar as you get, we’re also quite necessary to the continued functioning of a number of institutions, in particular federal law enforcement and federal prisons. A word about the latter: the prisons here are on total lockdown and have been for over a week now. If you think that being confined to your house is bad, consider being confined to a prison cell. This is a state of affairs that cannot endure, not least because inmates awaiting trial are being denied access to their lawyers. I shudder to think of the wave of section 1983 litigation that will follow in this thing’s wake. Something for folks like me to look forward to, I suppose.

And just think what would happen if the coronavirus took a trip to SCOTUS. Lordy.

On the home front, things aren’t great. My brother–who works as an accountant on the west coast–was laid off, and my wife became ill yesterday. She was away for a week at a trade show right before the shutdowns began, and when she returned we began self-isolating because she’d had contact with people who were symptomatic. She’s pretty much bed-ridden already, and I began running a fever today. We’re young enough that if this is the plague, the odds are in our favor. Still, it’s hard not to look at what’s happened elsewhere and be at least a bit concerned.

Our regular commenter Jon F. writes from Baltimore:

First off, as of this morning, there are 19 confirmed cases in the city. Unlike in many other states where the biggest city has the glut of the cases, Maryland’s hotspot is down in the DC suburbs. I’ve been working from home for the last week, with no clear end in sight, something I don’t enjoy because it’s so isolating. I have two cats for company, an occasional conference call and that’s it. Even the telemarketing calls have ceased, not that I’d answer those even in these times! I have occasionally been calling friends in evenings, both locally and in parts distant.

Because my lack of commute has freed up an hour of time in my life, I’ve taken to biking, weather permitting, going out first thing in the morning, maybe at lunch, and maybe after work. The emptiness of the city is jaw-dropping. Major roads that should be gridlocked at rush hour have barely any vehicle traffic—you’d think it was early Sunday morning. Camden Yards and the bars around it sit forlorn with opening day postponed. People walk dogs, jog, and bike, and small clusters of teenagers, out of school because of the emergency, wander about looking like they are (or want to be) up to no good. Or maybe they’re just bored– but they aren’t socially distancing. Spring has come early and our flowering trees are gorgeous this year. I have an album on Facebook I’m filling with photos for my friends as I bike past especially spectacular vistas.

A bit of unsettling news: the National Guard is in town. The stated reason is so that they can help with humanitarian efforts. And I don’t doubt they are doing that. However I suspect there is another agenda behind that deployment. The courts are on a very limited schedule and the jail is releasing every inmate deemed safe for release to reduce the likelihood of an outbreak behind bars, and the prosecutor’s office has a moratorium on the prosecution of all non-violent crimes (true in other cities too—this isn’t just a Baltimore thing). In effect, drug crimes, theft and prostitution have been decriminalized temporarily. There’s probably a fear in the state and city leadership that this laxity (which, to be clear, is necessary) could lead to a crime wave or worse. So the Guard are already in place just in case.

I spend eight hours a day at my desk, and after dinner I take the cats out in the back yard where I putter a bit in the garden since spring is coming early. Then it’s up to my bedroom to read, browse, write, and listen to music. I go to sleep at night with medieval chant playing on my Echo. I am discovering the music of Hildegard von Bingen and loving it. I have asthma, and a tendency to sinus issues so every morning I wake up congested and thinking “Oh, is this it?” Which so far it hasn’t been.

Very much missing church during Lent. I got an email from my erstwhile church in Fort Lauderdale (St. Philip’s, AOC) that they will be live streaming the Liturgy tomorrow morning, so I will probably “attend” online since while I’ve been gone from there for twelve years now, it will at least be a familiar church to visit virtually. Went to a Walmart this morning to see if the idiot-buying was over—not quite. Plenty of milk but lots and lots of other stuff was out. Who runs out and panic-buys all the licorice in a crisis? Someone(s) did.

From “a major East Coast city”:

I am a Catholic priest in a major East Coast city where things are very much like a ghost town. I have kept my small chapel open for prayer and the sacrament of confession while at the same time observing all the recommendations of the CDC on numbers and distancing, etc. About 50 a day are coming to pray (never more than 7 or 8 at any one time) and I am getting about 20 confessions or more per day. No other church around is open for confessions. I have seen the stories of priests hearing confessions outside either in a parking lot or “drive-through” at a window. I am unable to be outside as the chapel is completely enclosed. So, in addition to the praying and confessing I am doing a lot of disinfecting.

The faithful keep calling to ask if they can come for the sacrament and they are showing up and are very grateful, so I feel drawn to keep serving this way. Yet, I also struggle with the voices of those who say this type of things is just encouraging dangerous behavior. One person told me I am an enemy of the people and am encouraging deadly behavior like a Nazi. I keep praying and keep watching the news and following instructions given by the bishop and the health professionals. I want nothing but to do the right thing for God and the community. I have no fear for myself but I certainly don’t want to endanger anyone else. I keep going every day because the faithful are coming and they are grateful to not lose all the sacraments. Please pray for me as I will for you and all the others who are sending updates.

From Harrisburg, Pennsylvania:

Our governor’s previous order for non-essential businesses to close has now become mandatory, and will be enforced starting on Monday. The small office where I work already was planning to transition to temporary remote work, but now that’s been extended for an indefinite period until the government says otherwise. We provide legal services, and thankfully remote work is possible, but it’s far from ideal. I made a transition to a different group at work after the New Year and I am still training. The training would be much easier in person, but we’ll try our best with emails, texts, and online meetings.

Like so many of your readers, I heeded your early warnings and started stocking up on (not hoarding) some extra supplies last month. So did my family. We owe you immense gratitude. I am worried about my Silent Generation father and Boomer mother in Florida. They are remaining inside except for some grocery shopping. Still, I am worried that they’ll be stubborn and think they can just ride it out at home if they get sick. I’m scared by the stories I read about how quickly this can turn from mild coughing to respiratory distress. Even if they do seek help, I wonder if it will be available for them. All I can do is check on my parents as much as possible. My sister and I are both ready to head down to my parents’ house if necessary. They insist on staying in FL rather than with one of us.

I’m Orthodox and haven’t been to church since the Sunday of Orthodoxy. I really miss it. We held open services last weekend, but I stayed home because we had respiratory illness going around the office. I didn’t know what it was and didn’t want to expose my church family to possible COVID-19. Thankfully, everyone at work has recovered and no one had a fever. Services are now closed for at least the rest of the month. We’re now live-streaming services on Facebook and YouTube. My parish is also hosting an online Bible study to replace the Lenten adult education series we had in place, and a weekly virtual meeting for parishioners to check in on one another.

In the midst of all of this,  I am planning a wedding (and move) for mid-summer. We have been engaged only since New Year’s Day, but had been methodically planning the wedding since then. I have my dress and my fiance’s tux is ordered. We have the cake and food essentially lined up. We already have our crowns, candles, and crown tray engraved with the wedding date. Our invitations are stored at my fiance’s house. We are supposed to be doing marriage preparation with my priest. Now all of that is in flux. I am hopeful that things will settle down by then, but what if not? What if something happens to our families in the meantime? Will they be able to travel here?Will I have time to get my dress altered (the shop is currently closed)? You’re supposed to send invitations two months ahead of time, so what will the world look like then? How long can we wait? These questions can bring me near to tears. We were already planning a small wedding and reception at the parish hall, but now it may be even smaller. If it can go forward at all.

From Boise, Idaho:

Evangelical pastor living in Boise, Idaho. Our confirmed case numbers in Idaho are officially low, but that is certainly because of the lack of testing. My brother-in-law is an ER nurse at a local hospital and has been charge nurse and the lead respiratory nurse on-and-off over the last couple weeks. As charge nurse, one of his jobs was to find all the masks and lock them up so that the doctors and staff didn’t hoard them for home use. As lead respiratory nurse, he and the staff saw something like 50-70 patients in a couple days who came in with CV-19 symptoms and were negative for influenza. They had only 70 CV-19 tests at the hospital, so decided to test only those who needed to be hospitalized. They tested those, but 6 days later had not received results (the tests were somehow mishandled and they had to retest). These stories were from the days when Idaho’s official count was between 0-5 confirmed cases.

Boise has a democratic mayor and has for awhile, but it also has its fair share of LDS preppers (if you are looking to buy a house here, you have a good chance of finding one with a “mormon pantry”, a walk-in with more than enough space for all the food you could want for this month and next), anti-government conspiracy theorists (Ruby Ridge took place in Idaho for a reason), and full-throated Trump defenders, plus the occasional confederate flag. The far right and our LDS neighbors here have been all over the coronavirus from the beginning, while the more Republican-ish Trump supporters are still treating this as a hoax or a pathetic joke. When I have gone out grocery shopping, the toilet paper is gone, of course, but the roads are full and many seem to be acting as though this won’t have much of an impact. It will. I’m guessing we have nearer 1000 cases than the official number (31 as of this morning).

The politics of this thing have amazed me—only the Republicans seem to be treating this as a hoax. I regularly check in with you and Larison at The American Conservative and with Talking Points Memo (nobody’s idea of conservatives, though I found them through Conor Friedersdorf, whose work I believe I found through you). Both you on the right and TPM on the left have been talking about the dangers of the coronavirus for some time. Another place where the right and left could come together. It’s only the Trump supporters and the Republican Party who have treated this as unimportant. I’m not smart enough to know whether that is a function of power or of this president’s (and his movement’s) postmodern rejection of truth. Maybe in the new world to emerge from all this, we can finally achieve the political realignment many of us are hoping for.


As a pastor: we have a regular meeting of young adults, known as the St Justin’s Society (we brainstorm topics, vote, and then discuss) at a local sandwich and spirits shop, Pino’s. We have moved our meetings online in order to comply with isolation recommendations from the church elders (we have a high number of at-risk congregants and so our elders’ suggestions have been more cautious than state authorities’ orders). During our first online meeting, we had one young man nearly fall asleep because he was fighting fever and illness and another young woman whose co-worker went home with CV-19 symptoms. We decided to by gift certificates for Pino’s because we just can’t be there now. At the church, we have moved our services online, which meant that I preached to an empty gym last week and will this week receive our low-church communion at home with homemade french bread (baking right now—smells delicious). Several others from the community have said that they are experiencing or have experienced CV-19 symptoms, though none have been critical so far, and only one that I know of is being tested.

For me personally: I entered this season with mono, so I have assumed that I am high risk. My personal and spiritual life have been low energy for awhile. I have felt extra permission to just stay home. My wife and kids are normally very active (she is a doula in town, the girls are 12, 8, and 6) and we have been singing and reciting Psalms. I am reading Jacobs’ In the Year of Our Lord 1943 and enjoying the connections I’m seeing between that time and this (what will the new world be like when this is all over? how do we prepare for that world as Christians?). My prayer life has been focused on walking simply with Jesus, though I have struggled to silence my mind and heart in the anxiety of this time. I am grateful for the Christian community at our church and other local churches; we have had meals for us, and one of my main roles at the moment is trying to connect all those—especially our young people—who want to help with those who have needs. The millennials care. As you have said, it’s the boomers (maybe especially the Trump-aligned Boomers) who aren’t taking this seriously.

From Greater Boston:

So far the pandemic is more surreal and annoying than anything else. New Englanders are normally social reserved, and social distancing has made everyone even more reserved.

Massachusetts has had one death, and the confirmed or presumptive cases is now at 525. While the undetected cases is likely an order of magnitude higher, that’s a tiny sliver of the seven million people living here. My town of 45,000 has 7 known cases, a rate 30 times higher than the 1 known case per 200,000 in the country as a whole. Again, not a comforting statistic, but your odds of encountering covid-19 in the wild are still very low here.

With luck the virus will die of loneliness, but in the meantime, all nonessential retail and services are closed. As a result almost no one is on the streets, which is surreal because traffic is usually a headache. Going out shopping for food is weird, as the grocery store only lets a few people in at a time. You sanitize your hands and shopping cart handle on entry, shop quickly with the staff letting in another patron after you are down the aisle a bit. After collecting your items they have another worker directing patrons to checkout lines to ensure no clumping.

My daughter is home from college, as after Spring break they’re doing remote learning. My son’s high school plans to try something similar. So we’re shut ins without either of them able to hang out with friends. The result is we’re getting on each others’ nerves, so we took the dog for a walk.

I spoke with a friend who works in healthcare, and since they only do elective procedures, their office is shutdown until the state of emergency is lifted. I asked if doctors and nurses could be reassigned to care for covid-19 cases requiring hospitalization. She told me that the limiting resource would be equipment such as ventilators rather than staff, and until more equipment was procured, there’s literally nothing for her to do.

To sum up, we’re one week into the state of emergency, and it’s a waiting game to see how things develop.

From Chicago:

News from the Windy City. We have (I think) good city/state leadership and all schools have been shut down since 3/17 (just extended to 4/7 and I’ll bet longer). Restaurants/bars closed except for takeout for more than a week already, and a serious statewide “stay home” order just went into effect,. It’s supposed to last through 4/7, but I fear it will be a lot longer

I’m 62 (healthy and employed) but spouse is 67 and retired with multiple health conditions. I’ve been teleworking for a week and a half. I’m fortunate to work for an engineering firm with strong management and a well-considered plan. Entire team is now on tele-work except for those who have project work at jobsites related to healthcare.

I stocked up on everything more than two weeks back, including meds. Felt stupid at the time. Have had a single trip to the grocery store at zero-dark-30 since then. I am mindful of those without means to stock up. Spouse had a part-time caregiver (while I was working at the office) and so far we have elected to keep paying him though he is no longer coming to our home. I don’t know how long we can afford it but, for now, this is a way to help.

Younger child, college senior, is home for the duration of the term, and some profs are clearly struggling with the distance learning thing. Graduation ceremony delayed till summer sometime. She is bored and frustrated and missing her friends, but I have been proud of how well she is tolerating this upsetting situation. Will be interested to see how job prospects are affected, and for how long.

Our other daughter works in hospitality, has seen hours drastically cut for weeks, and with the “stay home” order has gotten furloughed because the property has to close. Unknown for how long. She has some savings and can make rent/car payments for a few months, but eligibility for unemployment in this fluid situation is unknown. If they base any federal subsidy on 2018 taxes she’s screwed, because she was still a student and did not have fed tax liability that year. We will likely have to assist her, which means we probably can’t pay spouse’s caregiver for too long. I have studiously avoided looking at the retirement account. Too late to sell now.

But there are tulips coming up in the back yard, and the days are getting longer and … none of us are sick. There’s food in the pantry, and wine, and TP, and we are grateful to be together and alive. Lord knows where it’s all going but I remind myself to be grateful for each not-awful day, and pray for those who are sick and those who care for them, and those in financial straits. Tomorrow morning is online church and I’m grateful for the opportunity, though missing the Sacrament.

May we all survive and come out wiser, and more conscious of how much we need each other, however long it takes….

From Florida:

34 y/o guy here, and I don’t know that I’ve ever felt happier to work for a major supermarket chain. We’re busier than ever, doing gangbuster business; I received my regular biannual pay raise last week, corporate just announced that all employees are getting a permanent pay raise (another raise, in my case) as a thanks for our efforts during this time, and my quarterly bonus will probably be the best ever. My routine at work has actually become *easier*, in a way, despite our daily sales roughly doubling. I used to have to manage inventory, do I need this much or that much? Now I receive whatever the warehouse can send me, I put it out as fast as possible, let the customers swarm it, and maintain empty shelves for the rest of the day.

People watching has never been more entertaining. There’s been a definite uptick in customers wearing masks and gloves, though as a certified food safety professional it makes me cringe when I see them wearing gloves and touching multiple food items and surfaces. Gloves are great for protecting yourself… and great for disease transmission when you don’t change them! And the objects people are substituting for masks are frankly, hilarious. I’ve seen a customer with a plastic bag on their head, a customer with Saran wrap around their face, a customer with a paper bag on their head (possibly a throwback to the Aints days).

The customers have mostly been polite, and we actually get quite a few compliments about our hard work trying to keep our shelves well-stocked, which is a nice change of pace; there are of course the angry ones who want to know why we don’t just “order more” (WHOA why didn’t I think of that), the ones who insist they should be allowed to buy more than the quantity limit of 1 or 2 (it’s always for an elderly neighbor or family member), and the ones who are mystified as to why the shelves are empty (in case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a panic on). Honestly what amuses me the most are the customers who wonder aloud why it’s so busy, and why don’t we have anything… when their own cart is filled with the allowed limit on items like milk, eggs, water, toilet paper, etc. The psychology of panic-buying and denial is a fascinating thing to me, how everyone sees themselves as “not like *those* people”.

I can verify what the letter-writer from Tampa said about seeing the same persons every day when they shop; we still have our regulars who shop for the same items 7 days a week, same time every day. Old habits die hard, especially when you’re 75, retired, and have nothing else to do.

I completely expect to catch COVID-19 at some point, given the number of people I come into contact with daily and the sheer number of objects I touch that other people have also touched; I’ve always been diligent about hand washing and using hand sanitizer but now, more than ever. Luckily I’m young and in fairly decent health, so hopefully I’ll only have mild/moderate symptoms. On my days off I try to limit my travels and mostly stay at home just in case I am carrying the virus. My dad is 63 and not in great health so I’ve stayed away from visiting him; how long will that have to go on for? My sister just told us in January she’s pregnant and due in September, I know the viral effects are unclear on pregnant women but we’re all concerned for her. What sort of world will her baby be born into?

To wrap it up, please people, how many rolls of toilet paper do you think you’ll realistically need? Don’t be selfish. Thanks.

The post Pandemic Diaries 5 appeared first on The American Conservative.

Pandemic Diaries 4

From a front-line physician in a major East Coast city:

In medical education, we stress to residents that they should avoid cognitive biases and heuristics that replace measured clinical reasoning. For example, we harp on “anchoring bias:” once a diagnosis gains momentum, it can be easy to “anchor” on it and discard alternatives.

I’ve seen “normalcy bias” mentioned in your posts by other physicians: this consists of the false notion that things will generally remain the way they have, despite evidence to the contrary. That cognitive bias was easier to shed than anticipated. At least since Mid-February, it’s been clear that things will not be normal – in or out of the hospital – for the foreseeable future. At our hospital, I’ve been fortunate to have colleagues who have likewise thought, “it’s coming, it’s coming.”

What’s harder is reconcile is the apparent need to embrace another bias, the “availability bias.” This is also described as the “recent case bias.” This entails considering only diagnoses that appear readily available – whether due to personal experience or disproportionate attention paid by media, medical literature, etc. – to the exclusion of other explanations. For example, in 2014 the overwhelming majority of US patients with a fever did not have Ebola, a readily-available consideration. Physicians who looked for Ebola in every patient would have been chided for their cognitive bias.

As I said, though, it seems like we now have to embrace this bias. For context, I’m screening our admitted patients for COVID this week at our hospital. We’ve admitted more than 50 patients with symptoms of LRTI (lower respiratory tract infection) in less than a week for confirmatory testing, oxygen support, or other reasons. Even when I try being measured with each patient that has a fever or a cough – “What if this was the flu,” “Bacterial infections are still statistically possible,” “This young patient doesn’t fit the illness script” – the evidence is still mounting to suggest a high volume of COVID. More and more have lymphopenia, ground glass opacities, new hypoxia, etc.; they keep testing negative for other infections. The COVID testing is coming back slowly, but the positives are beginning to amass. It was easy to think, “it’s coming, it’s coming:” it’s harder to adjust to, “it’s here, it’s here.”

From Norfolk, Virginia:

Hey Rod, wow has life changed. It feels like we’re in the apocalypse (coronapocalypse? Forgive my sense of humor making up words). But I think, at the very least, this is an opportunity to take up the cross and follow Christ.

I’m 30 and work for a major company and an eastern rite Catholic, although most of my friends are Orthodox (as there isn’t much for young catholic adult groups in town, and culturally and theologically I’m Orthodox in all but name). I’ve been reading your blog for a few years now, and thank you for warning us all about this. I’m well stocked and safe, and was able to pick up some supplies for our parish (which, though closed to public liturgies, will still be streaming private liturgies for people to watch). Here is how my life has changed, my emotional response, and the things I’m doing to live out that mission to pick up our crosses and follow Chrisr.

Work: We’re all working from home, but unfortunately that means the cafeteria staff were laid off. I was one of the first to bring sanitizer to my desk and stop shaking hands. My colleagues thought I was overreacting. I wish I was! We had a scare (false alarm) last thursday, someone thought to have had it (they didn’t). I think that put the fear in them, because the office has been empty since. My last day at the office was Monday. I said good by to our small park that I loved walking in everyday, praying the Jesus prayer on my Chotki. It couldn’t have been a prettier day, it was like the park itself was also saying farewell to me, for awhile. Working from home has been an adjustment. I don’t think we’ll have to layoff fulltime employees or our contractors given our industry, but I’ve been working very hard to not ever be on the chopping block. I am supposed to receive another promotion (2nd in two years), we’ll see if that’s put on hold.

I went to the gym twice this week. Only 10 people are allowed to workout at a time (and this is being strictly enforced). I was worried about our gym closing, it’s a small business and that gym is like a family to me. Members of that gym are much more dedicated to the sport of weightlifting than you’d see at a “normal gym”, and many have stories as to why. Weightlifting and God saved me from a deep depression years ago, and I don’t want to lose either. I wouldn’t be surprised if many at the gym, especially men, had similar stories. We asked the staff to set out a tip jar, both as a thanks for staying open and, perhaps, because we don’t want to lose this second family we all share. It is already a blow to not have my friends there. That gym is like a little family of unusually bug and strong people.

I’m single (so let your lady readers know), but dating has been canceled for me. Perhaps that’s good. Finding a wife has been a big part of my life. Last year I probably went on 20 first dates. This year, I doubt I’ll go on more than the 4 or so I’ve already went on. It’s sad to know I’ll have to wait at least a year before I can even date again. I feel very lonely, being at home for 90% of the day, aside from working out and helping a few people who need supplies. I’d been praying for things to line up for so long, but a few days ago I got a much different feeling. I had a strong sense of mission welling up in me: this is my time to live and serve as a Christian man. And I began asking myself, what all can I do to help people who need it most?

This week I made alot of phone calls, mostly to the widows at our parish. I let them know liturgy had been cancelled, and asked them if they needed someone (me) to pick up groceries, prescriptions, etc, or someone to help them set up liturgy streaming (thank God, many have EWTN), or just someone to talk to. Most have someone helping them, some I can help, ALL greatly appreciated the call: I could tell.

I received my annual bonus last week from work, and I was excited because it was big. I had so many plans: buy a grill, travel to CO for a friend’s graduation from medical school (it’s been canceled), and to help with a down payment for house. Now I’m thinking that bonus isn’t for me. I’m going to help a few people who were laid off make rent, and save the rest to weather the storm.

Divine Liturgy it being streamed, our first digital liturgy (digiturgy?). I am fortunate, as the token young person at my small parish, I’m the one who knows how to make this stuff happen, so I’ll be able to attend and record it. The practical logistics I’m working on. I did a test run with our reader, a man whom has been possibly my greatest mentor and example since I moved Norfolk 3 years ago. He’s older, and healthy, but I’m still concerned.

Anyways, this is overlong, so I’ll wrap it up with this last story. My coptic orthodox friends had their first online young adults meeting. The two Abounas (“Father’s) spoke about the adoration of the cross. Two verses came up, “pick up your cross and follow me” and “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” They talked about how there are two sides to this: the suffering of carrying one’s cross, but also the joy. I think I’ve started to feel abit of both this week. The suffering of leaving things I wanted (dating, beers with friends, seeing my colleagues) and the joy of doing things I think I’m called to do at this moment (helping the vulnerable, keeping my parish going, talking to folks I hadn’t spoken to in years, comforting the distressed). So, I know there’s alot of fear and sorrow, but there is also much hope and joy we can still find, and ways we can live out our mission.

God bless you and your blog, Rod.

From Tampa, Florida:

I work for a major university. I’ve just concluded my first week of working from home. Fortunately, I can do my job from anywhere I can connect to wifi. A lot of people can’t.

I know that we’re all supposed to socially distance. But I still go out to Walmart every day at around noon, to get whatever I want to eat for dinner. I’m in and out very quickly, and I use the self-checkout. I tell myself that that makes it okay. But many of the shelves are still empty, and I swear I see some of the same people every day, with full shopping carts, as if they’re panic-buying day after day. I don’t know how they afford it. Maybe they can’t. Maybe they’re borrowing against an uncertain future. I suppose people who do that will pay, one way or another. But the sight is shocking to me.

For my own part, I have tried to make a routine. Prepare breakfast in the morning. I never ate breakfast when I was working in the office, but now I have time to make something. I set aside times for making a cup of coffee, going out on my balcony, and taking a brief walk. I’ve always called my mom every day, for ten years now — but I do so with a little extra apprehension these days. Both my parents are “old,” now, in high-risk groups, and West Virginia has the fewest cases in the nation, but I still worry for them. They’re FOX News people, and I wish they were more scared.

I wonder what everything — all of this — will do to people. Especially young people. My generation got hammered by the Great Recession, and we were just now getting established in life. Our younger siblings and cousins, they’re gonna go through the same thing. Maybe worse. Nobody knows.

I know the point of the Pandemic Diary is to document what we’re doing in this unique time. I’m not doing anything profound, honestly. I’m just waiting, like I think most people are just waiting. In America, at least, this feels like the moment between the plane hitting the first tower and the plane hitting the second tower. We know something terrible has happened, but we don’t know if it is “normal bad,” or “life-changing bad.”

We hold our breath, collectively, and wait for the foundation of our world to crumble, or not.

The virus might be deadly. But it’s the waiting that kills our souls.

From South Carolina:

I’m writing mostly because what I’m seeing in my area of the country is so different from what I’m reading in these diaries you’re posting. I am in the upstate of South Carolina. I am a food delivery person for a company that delivers from hundreds of restaurants in this area.

Restaurants are closed to everything but drive thru and pick up. Some restaurants are making people wait outside for their order. Most times, though, we all just open the doors and walk in. Most of the people tend to bunch right by the counter…. few around here seem concerned with any 6 foot rule. I edge away, but as more arrive I start to get too far from the front to be noticed by the server getting my order.

Our popular main street still has a lot of people on it, even with the restaurants and stores mostly closed to them. There is a lot of outdoor seating, and it is all full this Friday evening. People are eating and chatting, laughing. Everyone is talking about the virus. No one seems concerned. Well, they are worried about the restaurants. Lots of large tips are being handed out to help the sufferers. Otherwise, I hear words like, “this is nuts/crazy/stupid.” Everyone is expecting it’s not that big of a deal, just more over-hyped fear from the media and the liberals.

I should mention: the everyone here I am talking about, 90 percent of those waiting in restaurants or hanging around outside, are either Boomers or young…younger than middle-aged almost 40 me. The Boomers think this is all fake. The kids think they are immune.

My husband, despite being neither a Boomer or a Gen Z, tends to agree with them. I’m doing stealth prepping, which is depressing and feels like a terrible half-measure.

My kids don’t notice a huge change. We’re homeschoolers, and neither my husband or I have lost our jobs yet. They miss our regular playdates. My graduating senior is fretting over the loss of her senior trip and concern over her graduation and prom. My oldest child works for UPS, and has no concerns about losing that job.

No one I know is sick, or even impoverished. Yet. I know it’s coming. My husband thinks it will be over by the end of April. I don’t want to terrify my kids. I feel lonely in my fear, and I realize how weak my faith is. Well, I guess this is a great time to work on that.

From Manitoba, Canada:

I feel as though we are still about 500 m away from the cliff but being dragged ever closer to the realities of what community transmission will bring. Our three children have been home for a week of homeschooling. They wake each morning, eat breakfast and then ask to begin. They crave routine. We live in a rather remote area. Our children go sledding in the creek, snowmobiling and snow shoeing. We are thankful for daily tasks such as feeding livestock. But yet, temptation to be lax at this point is never silent, always calling us out and about.

My friend from our main centre has free time as her university has close. She is working with my one gelding as a way to block up her time. And I’m tempted to go, to participate in his training process, read his movements and reactions to a blanket, saddle and first ride. But I cannot go. It opens us up to accusations of not self-isolating as we struggle to underscore its importance to my father-in-law. He’s travelling to cities for unnecessary medical appointments for his not-live-in girlfriend, selling parts for snowmobiles, heading out for coffee. And then comes into our home, invited or not and seats himself. We are torn between respect for an elder, self-protection and a civic duty to stay home and thereby allow a necessary resilience level to remain in our publicly funded health care system.

Gratitude arrived today as the province has declared a statement of emergency despite only 17 total cases, all travel-related. It gives us traction in our resolution to remain at home and to stay away from others.

In the meantime, as we make decisions by the day, by the hour, we are thankful the snow remains, that spring has not yet arrived with its muddy moats and the opportunity to be together.

Stay well. Thank you for the diaries. They are one point of connection, something I’m yearning for even as I go into my province-sanctioned, deep introversion, lol.

From Marina del Rey, California:

I’m writing to you from Marina del Rey, CA (Los Angeles) with a report on the quiet before the storm, as we aren’t yet seeing what is happening in Seattle, New York and other hot spots. But the storm is coming, I have no doubt.

We are in our mid 60s relatively healthy. We have both worked from home for years (I am a freelance software guy and she is an accountant) so that part of our life hasn’t changed much.

We are relying on grocery delivery services but in any case, we won’t starve. We just will get tired of beans and rice, pasta and canned meat. So compared to many we are well off and reasonably well situated. We basically have not gone anywhere for the past three weeks, except walks in the neighborhood.

We live is a townhome community of about 1600 homes that is a fairly close community. What keeps me awake at night is the knowledge that we will most certainly lose some (or a lot) of our neighbors. We have a couple of widows in their 90’s and maybe another half dozen people in their 80s in our complex or 40 odd townhomes alone and many more on the street. I am not worried so much about myself (though I probably should be) but I also have nightmares about my wife getting a bad case needing a ventilator and there are none to be had.

The waiting for the shoe to drop is the really nerve wracking part. We’ve lived with idea of “The Big One” earthquake for our 35 years here, but it doesn’t weigh on you day to day — you do your prep and hope that is enough. I remember reading “On the Beach” by Nevil Shute back in high school during the height of the Cold War and this feels like that. Not that it is the end of the world, but something bad (and invisible) is coming and there is little we can do to stop it and all we can do is wait.

And when this is all over, I still have two bottles of Nursia Extra from last year’s case that I will share with as many neighbors as I can.

From Las Vegas:

Life is normal in Sin City, except that it isn’t. I am an attorney here and Vegas gets hit hard with every downturn.

After 9/11, my wife was one of many laid off (she wasn’t in a casino job, even). The employers just get worried. The Great Recession almost killed Vegas and almost everyone, rich or poor, has a hard luck story about losing everything from that.

Vegas was finally back. Wages were finally climbing and housing was finally back to where it was in 2006.

And it is gone. I will probably have a lot of business and my home I bought not long ago will likely be worth less than half what I paid for it in a few months. But I am one of the lucky ones.

On Friday the 13th, we had our first real run on supplies. Schools hadn’t closed yet. The Courts were still open, but we realized they might be postponed. The casinos were still open and the restaurants.

And now it is all gone. Vegas can’t survive closed.

They closed the schools last Sunday. Nonessential businesses were closed later. Lawyers are a grey area, so we are still partially open.

My boss lost everything in the Great Recession and built back his practice so that we were just about to double the firm in this next year. Now he tells us that he will try his best, but that we all might be laid off soon.

People are still out shopping and going around. Our official number of infected is pretty low, but we can’t get more tests. We probably have thousands infected. My source at a large suburban hospital says they are getting more and more patients. And they don’t have supplies.

I was shocked when they closed the casinos. But the governor kept open the marijuana dispensaries. There is going to be a lot of work with bankruptcies if the country survives.

Vegas has no natural food supply. Everything is imported. Vegas is very vulnerable. For all Vegas is Sin City, it is also a city of many good people. I expect many will flee the city.

I am reminded of a couple of men I met a year ago on a consult. They both had been fighting a wrongful foreclosure since 2008. They were still in their homes, but were all out of options and came to me for one last chance. Both were emotionally broken. I helped them move on and let the fight go.

We are going to get millions more like that across the country and many here. How many will kill themselves or drink or drug themselves to death?

The worst part for me is I have lost most of my hope. I was finally getting ahead. I had a real plan to actually build towards an eventual retirement. I was finally back on track. No more…..

From Amsterdam:

Apart from the fact that this is the greatest crises in modern times, this is also the time when all human idiosyncrasies and qualities are magnified. The people who used to shout ‘it’s just a flu’ and ‘the fake-media are hyping things up’ are the same people who are now demanding a total lock down and accusing the government of murder.

It’s the perfect time to critically review and clean up your friends list on Facebook.

At the same time you see beautiful things happen. In the Netherlands we have a constitutional monarchy. The king is the head of state, but this is mainly ceremonial. He has zero power. But he does have great connecting and comforting power. Especially the elderly in our society take comfort in the words and messages of the Royal family in these dark days. Even hard line republicans recognize this and praise the king, the queen and their daughters.

Our Prime Minister, Mark Rutte, has the highest approval numbers ever. His calm but firm way of leading the country, based mainly on scientific insights, commands respect. In parliament, he is supported by both the right-wing and the left-wing parties, with the exception of the extreme left and the extreme right. But those parties always have the same mantra: We disagree.

For most of us however, yesterday it became clear again how much our government has the best intentions for the country. The Secretary of Health turned out to be totally overworked. He collapsed during a speech in parliament. In the evening he tweeted from his bed that he would be fine again tomorrow. Unfortunately, he overestimated his health. The government elected a new Secretary. That in itself is not special because the country must be governed.

But what was very special, and testified to great insight and leadership, is that the government chose someone from the opposition. A man who had served as Secretary of Health in a previous government. The current government considered it more important to appoint an experienced person who knows the Health Department than to appoint someone from their own party without experience. I can hardly imagine that Trump would appoint someone from the Obama administration. So looking at this from a political perspective it shows that this is already an extraordinary step. But for me it mainly indicates that the government wants to seriously combat this crisis. No matter what it takes. That it is not about egos, but that the national interest is paramount. That offers comfort and hope.

The Dutch are known for being stubborn and blunt. But I think the very way the government is now running the country will make people do what the authorities tell them to do. Not because of the law but through common sense and trust. I also know that when the crisis is over the government will be accused of all kinds of things again, but it is nice to see that cynicism has disappeared for a while.

To give a nice example of how the Dutch treat each other in these days: The Prime Minister said in his weekly press conference: “Please stop hoarding toilet paper. We have enough paper to poop for another 10 years.”

Keep these coming. I’ll post a second round tonight. Send to rod — at — amconmag — dot — com; put “PANDEMIC DIARIES” in the subject line, and don’t forget to say from where you are writing (at least the state or country).

UPDATE: From Lisbon:

American expats, currently living in Lisbon, Portugal. Changes to the city became apparent over the last week and a half. Cafes, restaurants, etc., began to close well before the formal emergency declaration. People have not hoarded much (to my knowledge). I attribute that to greater cultural cohesion here, and the fact that most people have small apartments and storage units. (With a very small freezer, where does one stash 47 pizzas?)

The was a sale on gin at the local store recently. That I must confess we did hoard, knowing cocktail hour will become increasingly crucial in the days ahead.

I find the most significant aspect of the virus is how we weigh risk. We have an elderly couple and their disabled son who live in the apartment above ours. They go (went) to the café around the corner every day, and were regularly out and about on the street socializing with neighbors. The virus has of course curtailed that part of their lives.

We are lucky to have a large outdoor terrace/patio space; the elderly couple do not. We have been socially isolating for a week and have no symptoms; the same is true of the upstairs neighbors. We have invited them to sit on our terrace to at least get some sun, fresh air, and a view beyond their walls. My concern is for them, but Is that the right decision? Even if we are healthy and maintain social distance? Unsure.

We thought of going back to the USA to be nearer family during this crisis. That said, our supplemental traveler’s insurance only covers us for a few weeks, and not for Covid-19! We felt it too risky to return to the States now. Is that the right decision, with elderly parents and in the scheme of things? Unsure.

One can find regular joys, however. Things are beginning to bloom, and the sky is a deeper blue here. A neighbor’s cats regularly hop the wall to visit, when on break from their daily mouse patrol. We certainly have time to focus upon our creative pursuits, bake bread, read, paint, write and cook. We are able to take walks, also – the weather is warm, the few people about maintain more than enough distance.

I leave you with the following: this is a picture of the portal at the Church of Our Lady of Mercy. For people unfamiliar: On the morning of November 1, 1755, a massive earthquake struck the city of Lisbon (currently estimated to have been as high as 9.2 magnitude.) A 20-foot high tsunami later inundated the city and many coastal areas. After, massive fires broke out, as churches had lit their candles for services, and numerous cooking hearths were stoked in preparation for the upcoming feasts. The fires went on for weeks.

At the time of the disaster, Lisbon was one of the wealthiest, cosmopolitan cities in Europe. After 1755, with its capital city completely destroyed and about 30% of its GDP wiped out, Portugal very quickly became a lesser power in world affairs.

When it comes to the American empire, might the virus be our own earthquake? Who can possibly predict? At this point, the only certainty appears to be long term social and economic consequences.

Whatever comes, we must take heart, if not be of good cheer. The Church of Our Lady of Mercy portal survived the quake, the flood, and the fire. We must keep faith that some things will last and endure.

The post Pandemic Diaries 4 appeared first on The American Conservative.

Pandemic Diaries 3

From Michigan:

I’m a recent college grad writing from a Michigan city with a major university and hospital system. The week after Spring Break the university closed and basically told everyone to go home. I wonder if students traveling helped spread cases. A dining hall worker just tested positive. My little sister’s school had spring break a week later and she begged our parents to take her home before people came back to campus.

I wasn’t going to write, but then I looked at the local news this morning. In ten days the number of cases state-wide jumped from 2 to 549. A university email mentioned a “Regional Infectious Containment Unit” with 32 beds has been opened. Given that people from harder hit counties have been sent to our hospital I doubt that’ll be adequate. Two weeks ago a friend who’s a nurse was upset because people were stealing masks and hand-sanitizer from the same hospital. Yesterday a man shot his room-mate during an argument over coronavirus restrictions. Mine is a very safe city with little violent crime. I truly hope that’s an anomaly.

One aspect that’s missing from the discussion on coronavirus’ economic impact is what the long term harm to Millennials (& maybe GenZ) will be. In the last decade many millennials had to live with parents, not buy cars, take low paid jobs, delay starting families, etc. because of the ’08 recession. What will another economic disaster do to them now that they are in their 30s? What will the long term political impact be when a whole generation is financially much worse off than their parents? Most of the liberals under 40 that I know are staunch Sanders supporters for economic reasons. Fortunately I just got a job but the start date is tentative due to coronavirus. After the recent drop in the stock market buying a car is a bit more tenuous so I might need a loan. A friend who was about to graduate is now considering a delivery job (he was going to be a teacher). A friend who didn’t go to college can’t work because she’s a hairdresser and is impacted by restrictions.

My Lutheran church has stepped up to help congregants which is encouraging. College students are babysitting for parents now that schools have closed and local families have offered to house college students who need somewhere to stay. Doing church and bible study virtually has worked so far but a friends baptism has been postponed and communion is sorely missed. My adult confirmation class will now be conducted online.

From New Orleans:

I thought I’d write in, though I doubt if I have much of great interest to add to the discussion.

The development of the COVID19 pandemic in New Orleans was swift. On March 10, I sent a text to an old friend in Ohio joking that there were 3 cases of coronavirus in LA: it was time to break out the respirators and Purell. Less than a week later, all bars and restaurants were ordered closed and the number of positive cases had climbed exponentially.

I am (was?) a full-time guitarist in the area. My buddies and I put on our first show as a new band last Friday in BR; we played to a good crowd of people, with many daps and hugs exchanged among us. And last Saturday, Bourbon Street was packed out, as were other parts of town where St. Patrick’s Day parades and events, despite being officially cancelled, drew large crowds of revelers anyway. Perhaps there is something to be said of this Dionysian spirit which is so thoroughly imbues southeastern Louisiana; the same spirit that invented jazz and tolerates drinking in public (encourages it, rather) and second-lines in commemoration of the deceased is hard to squelch whether its a hurricane or viral pandemic. And if the current lockdown remains through the summer and fall months, I will be all the more grateful for these final moments of beauty and camaraderie before the pandemic hit.

As far as I can tell, no one has any good idea how long this lockdown will last. I am highly doubtful that April 13th – the date officially set by the state government as of now – will roll around and suddenly all the venues, bars and live music will immediately re-open and life will spring back to normal. After four weeks of being closed, how many venues and restaurants and bars will even be able to reopen? Even if the Feds send out some checks, it’s not clear to me the businesses will survive or that the service workers staffing them will remain in the area. And this is assuming the lockdown measures only last four weeks. If these measures continue into May, June, July…. I can scarcely imagine how derelict even Bourbon and Frenchman streets may look despite the lockdown being lifted.

I myself have considered relocating to Charlotte, NC where my mother lives for the duration of the lockdown. My uncle is a carpenter there, still has work and could hire me on. But this could be reckless of me; as a service industry worker myself, in an area where community spread is all but certain, I may be carrying the virus without knowing it. I could unwittingly infect my mother and uncle and others. I would love to be tested, but testing facilities are only testing people who are first-responders or otherwise exhibit the 3 major symptoms of COVID19: fever, coughing, and body aches.

Each day I grow more persuaded that this pandemic will fundamentally alter our society. At the local level, if the bars and venues that hosted so many great musicians close, we will have lost one of the final bastions of live music in this country; we will have lost perhaps the last city where making a living solely from playing music was possible, not to mention the loss of the cultural uniqueness so much of New Orleans’ music possesses. Could it be rebuilt? Might it relocate? Perhaps. But at the national level, I wonder if this pandemic will merely accelerate the trend towards a very-online, digital existence. If movie theatres close, will anyone notice? Netflix and Disney+ streams are readily available. If venues for live music close, YouTube concerts and Instagram live-streams may supplant them, or else Spotify will simply become more ubiquitous than it is now. Will businesses, operating without hindrance as employees work from home, keep renting their expensive downtown office spaces? Will college life and its incumbent expenses remain justifiable to parents after their child completes much of their coursework online at home?

A week ago, I very much took for granted the world I was in. Now, I wonder if that world will ever be recovered, or how much of it may even be recovered.

It may be a while until we find out. In the interim, there is ample time for reading, listening to records and watching movies – of course, in gatherings of less than 10 people.

From Puget Sound, Washington:

Random thoughts from Kingston, a small town on Puget Sound:

– Working remotely has its pluses, but there is a disconnection from my work and coworkers that I do find unsettling and using Zoom for virtual meetings doesn’t cut it.

– Bandwidth at home sucks.


– On the other hand, at least we “do” have Internet


– I’m feeling fortunate to “not” be working in one of the hard hit sectors: airlines, travel, restaurants, small businesses, etc. Poor folks. Left an extra large tip when we did take out earlier in the week.
– Where’s the random testing data? Come on! Without it, it’s hard to have a context for rate of infection and death rates.
– I went in to work Monday. Ferry workers told everyone who drove onto the ferry to stay in their cars. So I did.


– Just heard that our offices are going to be closed for another 6 weeks. We’re located 5 miles from the epicenter, the nursing home in Kirkland where there was a cluster of deaths, so plenty of fear and loathing in the air.


– Called my siblings yesterday. They’re scattered around the country. Can’t remember the last time I did that on the same day. Goodness from the coronavirus?


– There were 4 people at work on Monday. It was kind of spooky.


– Seattle’s rush hour traffic always sucks. But the freeways are now essentially deserted. My typical 1 hr 20 minute commute on Monday was just a few minutes over 1 hr, including the 25 minutes on the ferry.


– Everything is shut down: libraries, parks, playgrounds, and even the casinos. Casinos? Crap, maybe this really is serious.
– Dropped off my car for repairs. Signs posted on the front door said to use the night drop and it felt a bit like I was making a drug deal.
– Has the Rapture happened? I imagine this is what it would feel like if all those 70s Evangelicals were right about all Christians disappearing from earth in a twinkling of an eye. As my brother said, “so I guess this would mean we’ve been left behind!”


– It absolutely sucks that my son-in-law’s return is on hold/up in the air. He’s spent the last year in Bahrain courtesy of the U.S. Navy. He was about to rotate home and be reunited with his family, my daughter and their two kids, ages 2 and 5, and now this hits. Not a death, sickness, job loss or other such tragedies, but a tragic in another way. My wife and I have had them living with us for the past year – we didn’t want them alone while Andrew was gone – and it has been a special time that I will always cherish, but the kids are ready to have daddy home, and my daughter is ready to be reunited with her husband. If Andrew can get back to the US, and if the Navy will let him travel, doesn’t matter where it is, I’m going to saddle up my trusty Subaru and go get him. Stay tuned.


– I just hate the hysterical headlines the media’s using to entice clicks/viewers. They always seem to scream the worst case scenario. Without better data, count me skeptical the worst is gonna happen.
– So, I’m still participating in and training for what’s called the Seventy48, a 70 mile human powered raced on Puget Sound between Tacoma and Port Townsend that’s happening in early June. I just received a terrific email from the RaceBoss that it’s still on. Great! Here’s hoping they don’t cancel it. I am certainly practicing appropriate social distancing from the seals when I’m out rowing. This is the kind of event that I think people are going to need. A laugh in the face of fear and despair, and a celebration of being alive.
– Kudos to all those delivery folks out there!
– My 85-year-old mom and 90-year-old father-in-law are doing fine, though my father-in-law makes frequent comments about wanting to die, so I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that he’s snuck out of his apartment in search for someone who’s sick. Their facilities are locked down, no going out, no visitors, but so far so good.
– Across the state, all schools are shut down. My grandson is happy to be done with kindergarten. Because I’m home, too, I took a break from my computer and he and I went on a hike through the woods yesterday. More coronavirus goodness. Soon enough he and his sister, my daughter and son-in-law will be off to Japan for three years, and I am going to miss them terribly. Yeah, we’ll go visit, but not the same as having them easy to hug.

– The weather has been cold but quite lovely the past week or so. Cherry trees are beginning to explode with popcorn blossom, daffodils are up. Once the night time temperatures quit the 30s, I think everything is going to shake off winter and wake up. I’m hoping warmer temps and the UV rays of spring send the coronavirus back into its hellhole.

From Porto, Portugal:

American living in Porto, Portugal.  Married to a Portuguese lady with two grown children.  English teacher.

We’re under a State of Emergency declared a couple of days ago.  People have been self-quarantining for about a week now.  All bars and restaurants are closed.  Schools and universities have been closed for a week.  One thousand twenty cases and six dead.  Porto has instituted drive-in testing with a current capacity of 400 per day, but this will be expanded to 700.  A good health care infrastructure is available in most places in this country . . . thanks to socialized medicine.

A couple of hot spots:  in the North of the country and Lisbon.  The first cases were a group who had visited a trade fair in Milan Italy supposedly.

Last week we all went out on our balconies and clapped our hands in support of the health care professionals who provide this thin red line between the people and this calamity.  A lot of people fear the economic consequences of all this.  Talk of this lasting till the end of the year, but no one knows how the situation will look at the end of it.  There is a sense of the unknown and a certain uneasiness, but no panic.  Portuguese are by nature a bit fatalistic so maybe in this situation that tendency helps to keep people calm.

From Pittsburgh:

A quick window visit with the grandkids in W. PA.  Broke my heart.

As my “weekend” ends, I’ll be returning to work tomorrow as a correctional officer at the county jail.  Definitely NOT looking forward to it (not the most positive or cleanest environment under normal circumstances!) but you do what you have to do.  I’m fortunate to still be employed.

From Charlotte, North Carolina:

My wife and I live in Charlotte, North Carolina; we’re young, we’re Catholic, and we’re stable even amid much change. The virus has changed our lives dramatically, and we’re doing our best to take the good with the bad. Our faith is seeing us through, even as the waters rise.

From the outset, we’ve been paying close attention–thanks in large part to your early reporting and Wyoming Doc– so we’re pretty well-stocked on essentials, and didn’t have to wade into the insanity that was last week. But we’re also especially nervous; my wife is in her first trimester (first pregnancy). There’s absolutely no information about how corona affects pregnant women or the unborn, save for some small-sample-size studies on third-trimester women in China.

We know even a fever could lead to serious complications, so it doesn’t matter one iota to us whether this thing is worse or comparable to the flu (hint: it’s worse)… We’re still frightened. If this is thing is like other major coronaviruses (SARS or MERS), it will have catastrophic effects on kids in utero. We could bear (literally and figuratively) a handicapped child—it will be ours to love. But I don’t know if we could bear losing the child in the midst of this. God give us strength.

Which reminds me, we’ve been praying a lot. My wife and I are both in Bible studies with our friends, both of which have transitioned to video-call Rosary groups. Once a week I pray with my “bros”, she with her girlfriends.

Everything feels so surreal. My family–scattered across the northeast–is fraught with worry. I would say they’re frantic, but that would make it seem like I’m not also fraught with worry and frantic. I’m trying to keep my cool. My in-laws are another story; they are the business-as-usual Boomers you’ve heard about in this crisis. Going to the mall because they “need” to return some clothes. Saying “there are only a few cases in the county,” while a week ago it was “few cases in the state,” days before that “the country.” … They’re as immune to familial advice as they think they are to this virus.

As for work, we’re both working from home, and very grateful to have jobs that can be done remotely. My wife (a teacher) has been in a very bad job for a while, toxic environment, so the working from home is actually a major reprieve. Despite everything, her emotional and psychological health is better now than it was two weeks ago. If the fact that a global pandemic induces less anxiety than her normal day-to-day doesn’t prove that teachers are underpaid, I don’t know what does.

As for my job, I work for a small, family-run company that relies on seasonal revenue. If Christmas-shopping season is our bread, springtime is our butter. That season just disappeared. Yesterday they let go two dozen employees, about 30% of the company. It’s entirely about survival. In the midst of this, the entire leadership team has taken big pay cuts. and pay cuts are likely for the rest of us in the coming weeks / months.

But God has seen us through it all so far. Six months ago I had a choice at my job, to move upwards onto a new team, or move “laterally” into another. I chose the “lateral” option because I felt God was calling me to that work rather than “upward” for the sake of my career and paycheck. It’s because of that choice that I didn’t get sacked yesterday. The team that I didn’t join was almost entirely let go, while my team now remains untouched and is the company’s hope for the future.

Furthermore, my wife and I bought a house in January. Our original plan was to look in the spring and buy in the early summer, but then–by grace– the perfect house came on the market and we got it. That search and the move would be impossible now, especially with the pregnancy. We’d be stuck in a tiny apartment where it was hard to get distance from neighbors. We’re glad to have space at home, and a nice neighborhood where we can go for walks while maintaining social distance from others.

And the house is a blessing not just for our sake. Our friend, a Catholic seminarian, just had his seminary close down. He was sent home, but his family isn’t in this diocese and they’re high risk for the disease. But without a seminary, and without a job, he’s on his own. We’ve offered to take him in since we have room, but we’ll see. He may try to stay with on of the diocesan priests so he can stay near the sacraments.

Our diocese suspended public Masses last week, which was a major blow to all of us. First Sunday that my wife and I have ever missed Mass. We’re lucky (blessed) though: we have an “in” with a priest who is allowing us to attend a Mass tomorrow evening (after getting explicit permission from his bishop), but it’s strictly capped at 8 people, and we have to keep it’s time and location to ourselves.

We see so much Providence in all of this; we have the house, my job is safe– for now–and my wife gets an unexpected reprieve from work just as she was starting to break down. But the anxiety remains; we still need to protect our unborn child; I could lose my job and we could end up under water on this new mortgage. The worst is just not knowing.

God will provide. He always has.

I don’t know where this man is writing from, but it’s a tough place:

I have a little different take on this, one that hasn’t been mentioned in the news at all that I have seen – that of the plight of those who have mental illnesses. I have type 2 bipolar disorder, and for those who are not familiar with it, it manifests as severe and chronic depression on one side, and shorter hypomanic episodes which can be feelings of euphoria, high energy, rash behavior, irritability, and so on. It is a different illness from type 1 bipolar disorder (which most people are more familiar with), but no less serious or crippling to a person’s life.

While I have a pretty decent and somewhat secure job, many people with bipolar disorder, or other serious mental illnesses, work short term jobs in the service industry or retail positions, etc. This is because it can be sometimes difficult to keep a job between medication changes, incidents at work, bias against people with mental illness, and so on. So, these folks are now going to be out of a job, isolated, potentially without medication, family support, etc. This virus is going to be nothing short of disastrous for people who are already struggling to be functional when times are normal. Now? I don’t want to even think about it.

Myself, I’m worried about whether or not I will be able to keep getting medication, as I need it to keep my mood shifts and intensity under control. I worry if I’ll be able to get in to see my therapist, which is essential for managing the non-medical side of the illness. I worry about the stress from the pandemic aggravating my illness, as it can trigger a hypomanic episode. I worry about slipping back into depression as the bad news and disruptions to life seem to keep coming. I worry about the impact of my illness on my family, as they are also cooped up with me at a stressful time. Also, I have a co-morbid health issue which puts me at higher risk if I do contract this thing.

Outside of all this, ennui seems to be setting in for us and our neighbors. There is talk of shortages of toilet paper, things that are closed now, how we’re keeping busy, and so on. The flood of sickness hasn’t reached our area yet, even though there are confirmed cases locally, so the sense of danger is still remote. Going to a store means keeping six feet away from everyone, and gawking at the empty shelves for things like pasta and Chef Boyardee ravioli. Meat is often sold out. It feels like being in a nation at war, yet the frontlines are still very far away. I think at some point, we’re all going to wind up being “institutionalized,” where going somewhere feels alien and uncomfortable, after years of mobility and shopping as a pastime.

Or, maybe it is just learning to readjust to old realities. Contrasting my wife’s childhood with mine, her family often went places, on vacations, were social. My family, with alcohol abuse and mental illness, seldom went anywhere because there was neither the inclination or the money. Before adulthood, I had been on one short road trip one state away, and had never set foot in an amusement park, for example. Now, this is everyone’s reality. I won’t go into the platitudes that some are likely spouting of “Maybe some family time will be good.” The problem with that is the culture of family has been so badly broken over the last couple of generations that to rediscover it will be impossible for many. They will be like strangers to each other, still, but just living trapped under the same roof.

I don’t see things ever being the same after this. Our debt-based financial system is going to be completely upended, and the changes to our culture will be deep and permanent. Hope you are staying healthy, and I hope everyone remembers that it’s better to stay six feet apart than be six feet under.

Another New Orleans story:

As my wife and I celebrate Day 7 of our quarantine I thought I would share how our week has gone. I am back in school for a second degree at UNO and the school has moved entirely to online classes for the rest of the semester. No one is quite sure how it will work but everyone is working thru it. My wife is a school teacher in Jefferson Parish and they have shut down the school system, no one including the superintendent seems to have any idea what they are going to do. But she is keeping in contact with the kids and doing what she can to keep some level of education going.

So far eight of our immediate friends are suspected to have C-19 though none of them have been able to get tested yet. Luckily they are all young and healthy, and are all healing up reasonably well. All of them had roommates or guests over Mardi Gras that have since been confirmed, but none of them qualify for testing because their symptoms are mild enough there is no therapeutic justification for the test.

As a family (my entire extended family) have set up a weekly grocery run, where one of us goes shopping for the entire group. I broke quarantine on Tuesday to go shopping for seven households, and had the largest Costco bill I have ever seen at close to $2,000. But none of the over 65 group have left their house so that’s a positive.

Sadly one close friend passed away from C-19. He was seriously ill before hand, and wasn’t expected to last much longer. But speaking to his widow about how much it broker her heart not to be by his side when he passed (because of the quarantine) was heart breaking.

With about a week to go until my sister is no longer communicable (she is suspected thanks to her live in nanny that is positive), I expect to hand over grocery shopping duties to her, since she won’t be at risk. So I will be making another grocery run this weekend. Her wife is a vet tech, and returning to normal from her fever. She has already reached out to a hospital to work since she can work around sick people without worry of reinfection (how insane is it that they are so desperate for people that someone without a license is in such high demand).

My wife and I are in multiple group text threads so some level of interpersonal contact is continuing. But life is far from normal and with no end in sight this may continue for a very long time. I keep thinking of it like a missed spring, the birds are out, everything looks normal, but we are all functional shut ins until….

From Colorado:

Writing to you from Colorado. It feels like we are on the brink of this getting pretty ugly around here. Yesterday there was an article on 9news.com from the CEO of a hospital up in Vail that basically said he believes the virus is widespread in that particular mountain region, and their hospital is going to be quickly overwhelmed in the next week or two. The current numbers for that county are 51 positive cases, the most in Colorado, but this CEO said there are likely 1000s. My boomer parents are in a town near to this county, and my step-dad continues to go out and work. My friends from back home are saying that most people have been going about life like nothing is happening, meanwhile the two counties they share major highways with have had confimred community spread for over a week. I’m certainly worried, and my parents have heard it from me already.

I live on the Front Range near Denver. We only have 11 confirmed cases so far, and its obvious that people aren’t worried as parks have been packed with kids and their on-looking parents. Meanwhile, I know two families and an individual who probably have COVID-19, but have been refused testing. One family has a 5 year old who has an upper respiratory issue and tested negative for flu, but the pediatrician said Colorado isn’t testing anyone under the age of 16. I haven’t confirmed this elsewhere, but this whole family is now sick and they wont test any of them. My other friend who is sick recently recovered from Colon Cancer. She has been coughing so much that her throat is bleeding. Meanwhile, all of the stores are out of cough drops. She also has not been tested. Senator Cory Gardner held a live phone call with the President of UC Health today and the biggest takeaway for me was the we basically have no tests available in Colorado at this time. If you go to the ER and you don’t have severe breathing problems, you will be turned away with no test. So we basically have no way to stop the spread without broad, enforced, social distancing. I think this is the case nation wide, but the testing failure seems particularly bad here. And of course, shutting down schools, bars and restaurants has not stopped a lot of people from continuing to be out and about.

I’m a real estate agent, so I am anticipating that I will have no income in the near future. The market is still really busy here, even with many of us taking a lot of precautions, like no more open houses and showings recorded with a video camera. I have some clients who are purchasing a home here and trying to sell their home in Sacramento. California just went on a state wide shelter at home tonight, so we will see how that impacts their ability to get that home sold. What happens there will be a good indicator of what to expect in the coming weeks. A lot of people are asking what is happening in the real estate market, and I don’t know what to tell them. This situation is unprecedented. I have no idea what to tell anyone. I probably wouldn’t buy a home right now.

Please, readers, send in accounts of what things look like where you live. Don’t forget to say the city and state, or at least the state, or country. Don’t use this as an opportunity to bang any political drums. Just talk about daily life, and what you’re seeing and hearing, thinking and feeling. I’m at rod — at — amconmag — dot — com. Don’t forget to put PANDEMIC DIARIES in the subject line. I get lots of e-mail, and I don’t want to overlook them.




UPDATE: Just got this one from New York City:

My brother is an endocrinologist, working at a hospital in central Spain, about 20 min away from my parents’. He lives with them and spent all the time he is not at hospital working for our parish. He is the calmest and most hopeful person I’ve ever met, and from whom I got the foundation of my faith.

Until yesterday, he was treating patients from their offices, with no direct contact, but today he started working double shifts, visiting them in their rooms. He may be the last person they see, his the last hand they touch, and I’m sure that they pray for them and would also with them if they could breathe.

I woke up this morning to a video my brother had sent me. In it, a friend of ours, a nurse and now fresh out of med school too, cries in front of the camera explaining how serious this is. She is working at the same hospital as my brother. This is happening one hour and a half away from Madrid, in Alcazar de San Juan. I can’t even imagine how they are in the capital.

He says hospital is like a war room, and that he can’t help crying. What’s worse for him is seeing abuelitos [grandparents] gaping, unable to breathe, in empty rooms, far from their loved ones. “And I can do nothing else but comfort them in their agony.”

When I asked him about his protection, he said that they do have, but they have to reutilize their mask for two days, and that they cover the good one with a regular one.

He is just praying they set up an emergency hospital soon, but I don’t see that happening because no one has ever cared about our area, La Mancha, one of the poorest in an already depressed country.

Meanwhile, here in New York, my roommate just came home drunk.  He got a job last Monday, and this is his way to “celebrate” before the curfew that starts this Sunday. A big gathering with his buddies.

UPDATE.2: From Seattle:

I’ve seen your posts on unseriously people are taking this virus in the US, and I wanted to provide a different prospective from Seattle. Everything has been deserted here for weeks at this point, for example every sit down restaurant I’ve passed has been empty since the 7th and this was well before any official orders to shut down (https://www.seattletimes.com/life/food-drink/seattle-chef-tom-douglas-is-closing-his-restaurants-temporarily-due-to-the-new-coronavirus/). Also just anecdotally everyone I know has been minimizing the time out of the house.

I have no clue why people out here seem to have taken it more seriously quickly, but one thought I have had is that it helps that so much of the workforce out here works for large tech firms. At Amazon we have been mandatory work-from home since the 5th, and its been similar for Microsoft and all the others. This has both reduced the number of people out there, but also seems to have driven home to everyone how serious this is. Its also been good to see the Governor being more proactive then a lot of other states in closing down large gathers, schools ect.

In terms of day to day not to much has changed beyond having to use use videochat, and phones for everything. I’m sort of lucky in that I am already a transplant so most of the way I talk to friends and family is over a digital connection anyway. So apart from my dining options being restricted I can’t really complain, I’m healthy & employed.

The post Pandemic Diaries 3 appeared first on The American Conservative.

The Hard Road Ahead

I’m sorry I’m late to post this morning. Apparently I have relapse with Epstein-Barr Virus (mononucleosis), which I fought for around three years straight, but which hasn’t been a problem since around 2014 or 2015. With me, it’s triggered by intense stress. Can’t say I’m surprised, given events of the last three weeks. But here we are. I couldn’t get out of bed this morning till around noon. Two doctors have told me I need to take a break to rest, so that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll post a Pandemic Diaries entry later today, but this is going to be my big post for Friday.

I was moved by apiece in The Spectator, by the science journalist Matt Ridley, titled, “We are about to find out how robust civilization is.” He writes:

Until this year I thought this kind of infectious pandemic could not happen today. The defeat of infectious diseases as a cause of death has been so complete as to seem invincible: plague, smallpox, cholera, typhoid, measles, polio, whooping cough and many more eradicated or nearly so. The failure of terrifying new animal-derived viruses like Hanta, Marburg, Sars, Mers, ebola, swine flu, bird flu and zika to cause more than a local or temporary interruption of the march of progress left us complacent. (Only HIV went global.) The advance of science allowing the rapid reading of the genome of the new coronavirus gave us false confidence: we would know how to beat it by the time it got out of China. It seemed that only the most innocuous of common colds, and milder forms of flu, seemed capable of remaining ubiquitous. And coronaviruses are a common cause of the common cold, so (despite Sars) they seemed like pussy cats, not tigers.

It turns out that I and many others were badly wrong. The human race has been playing epidemiological Russian roulette all along. It has taken Mother Nature a long time to put a bullet in the right chamber, combining high contagion with asymptomatic carriers and a significant death rate, but she has done it.

It is just now beginning to dawn on many of us that we face economic devastation of the sort not seen since the Great Depression. The Wall Street Journal editorializes that we cannot sustain a long siege. The Journal makes the necessary point that this is not just about abstract numbers on a balance sheet, and it’s not about “corporate greed.” Excerpt:

If GDP seems abstract, consider the human cost. Think about the entrepreneur who has invested his life in his Memphis ribs joint only to see his customers vanish in a week. Or the retail chain of 30 stores that employs hundreds but sees no sales and must shut its doors.

Or the recent graduate with $20,000 in student-loan debt—taken on with the encouragement of politicians—who finds herself laid off from her first job. Perhaps she can return home and live with her parents, but what if they’re laid off too? How do you measure the human cost of these crushed dreams, lives upended, or mental-health damage that result from the orders of federal and state governments?

Some in the media who don’t understand American business say that China managed a comparable shock to its economy and is now beginning to emerge on the other side. Why can’t the U.S. do it too? This ignores that the Chinese state owns an enormous stake in that economy and chose to absorb the losses. In the U.S. those losses will be borne by private owners and workers who rely on a functioning private economy. They have no state balance sheet to fall back on.

The politicians in Washington are telling Americans, as they always do, that they are riding to the rescue by writing checks to individuals and offering loans to business. But there is no amount of money that can make up for losses of the magnitude we are facing if this extends for several more weeks. After the first $1 trillion this month, will we have to spend another $1 trillion in April, and another in June?

I have friends who lost their jobs this week, and a friend who is having to sweep up the ashes of the business his family has built over three decades. It’s not coming back after this, most likely. Two weeks ago, everything was fine, for all these people. Unless we’re in the health care field, none of us can count on having jobs that last for the duration of this crisis. The Journal says we can’t sustain the economic damage of a long lockdown, and that the government needs a different strategy. They might be right. Read it all.

But then I read articles like this dispatch from Sky News, reporting from inside a hospital in northern Italy, and I see something that’s worse that poverty: death. Excerpts:

Masked, gloved and in a hazmat suit, my team and I are led through corridors full of gasping people who look terribly ill.

I ask what ward I am in.

“This isn’t really a ward, it’s a waiting room, we just have to use every bit of space,” my guide, Vanna Toninelli, head of the hospital press office tells me.

The medical teams are fighting a war here and they are losing.

More:

The arrival of people here is an absolute constant. This killer pandemic is virtually out of control.

We have all heard what has been going on here, but no journalist has been allowed in here to see it, until now.

The city of Bergamo invited us in to show everyone what a catastrophic emergency, that nobody has ever experienced before, looks like.

They want you to see it. They want the world’s population to question their own governments’ responses.

Because there can be no excuse anymore that nobody knew. Italy did not. Now everyone else does.

And:

He, like every other doctor and nurse I spoke to, urged the UK to follow the example of China and Italy, and lock down everything straight away.

It is, they say, the only way to slow the virus down: not beat it, slow it.

“I have never felt so stressed in my life, I’m an intensivist, and I am quite used to intense moments, and the choices, and people are critical and die without any treatment, and you [usually] make the difference,” he told me.

The Italian doctor’s message to the rest of us: “Get ready.” Read or watch the whole thing here. Here’s the embedded version:

We are all looking for a middle ground here, between the Scylla of mass death and the Charybdis of economic apocalypse. At this stage of the crisis, it looks like there is no middle ground. This is an intolerable thing, but it might well be reality. The Washington Post has a sobering piece on the costs, physical and otherwise, of this crisis. I think it still has not sunk in with most of us how terrible this situation is, and how it’s not going to be resolved quickly, without an extreme amount of pain all around.

Right now we’re all going stir-crazy from being stuck in the house. The economic pain has only hit some of us this week — those who have lost their jobs, or who are losing their businesses. It will be less abstract for all of us soon enough. So too with the virus — most of us don’t know anybody who is sick with it, much less who has died of it. We will, and sooner than we imagine.

Andrew Sullivan writes today:

These weeks of confinement can be seen also, it seems to me, as weeks of a national retreat, a chance to reset and rethink our lives, to ponder their fragility. I learned one thing in my 20s and 30s in the AIDS epidemic: Living in a plague is just an intensified way of living. It merely unveils the radical uncertainty of life that is already here, and puts it into far sharper focus. We will all die one day, and we will almost all get sick at some point in our lives; none of this makes sense on its own (especially the dying part). The trick, as the great religions teach us, is counterintuitive: not to seize control, but to gain some balance and even serenity in absorbing what you can’t.

There may be moments in this great public silence when we learn and relearn this lesson. Because we will need to relearn it, as I’m rediscovering in this surreal flashback to a way of living I once knew. Plague living is almost seasonal for humans. Like the spring which insists on arriving.

He’s right about that. We really are in an apocalypse, a word that means “unveiling.” This plague shows us who we really are. It first reveals to us that we have far less control than we thought, and the things we believed were permanent are not permanent at all. It can all be taken away from us in a matter of days and weeks. If someone had told you in January that before the end of March, you would not be able to go to church, and receive communion, you would have thought they had been reading too many dark fantasy novels. Yet here we are.

A lot of people are still in denial about the apocalyptic nature of this thing. They won’t be for much longer. The denial is part of the apocalypse, in that it too shows us who we are. So does the self-sacrifice and charity it has drawn out of others. As Camus’s great novel The Plague, which I cannot recommend strongly enough (I will soon finish the book club here; I apologize for having gotten behind), tells us, the “plague” of death is the human condition. How we respond when faced with suffering, finitude, and death all around, reveals the nature of our character. In the novel, there’s a character, a visitor to the town caught in the quarantine, who spends much time and energy trying to get himself smuggled out of the city, and back to his loved ones. Eventually he realizes that his place is there, struggling to ease the pain of the suffering, and to do his part.

All of us have to do our parts, even if right now that means just sitting at home quietly. We could read. We could pray. We could write. I’ve told my children to keep journals, because the things that they see over the next year will be with them all of their lives. If we are blessed to still have a job, or to have extra financial resources, we can give to those who are suddenly without either. Before long, there will be other things for us to do. But for now, if all you can do is stay home and keep calm, and stop complaining, then do that. It may be the most you can do, but it certainly is the least.

Y’all know that religion means more to me than anything else. I was thinking this morning about The Benedict Option, and the words in the book from Father Cassian Folsom, who at the time he said them to me (2015) was the prior of the monastery in Norcia. He said (I paraphrase) that those who don’t do some version of the Benedict Option will not make it through what’s coming. At the time I took him to mean the erosion of religious belief, and perhaps even a future persecution. Maybe that’s all he meant; if so, that’s still frightening but galvanizing. Now, though, I’m thinking about his words in light of this global pandemic. It will reveal to us, apocalyptically, what our faith is made of. The happy-clappy entertainment-focused Christianity won’t survive this test. Neither will Moralistic Therapeutic Deism. Only a hard charity, based on deep repentance, self-sacrifice, prayer, and spiritual discipline will. I know well that I am failing at that; this pandemic is a call to conversion. None of us know when we will be able to get back to our churches, or to assemble together again for corporate worship. (In Italy, a shocking number of priests are dropping dead from this thing.) We don’t know how many will have fallen away from the agonies of this trial. Now is the time to be serious like we have never been serious in our lives. The plague has forced us all into a kind of monastic living. Let us make the best of it.

To that end, here is a fantastic message of strength and consolation from Archimandrite Zacharias, a Greek Orthodox abbot living in England. He’s addressing in part Orthodox faithful angry at the government for closing churches. Excerpt:

We must see the goodness of God in all the things that are happening now. The Holy Fathers did see His lovingkindness. A similar epidemic occurred in the 4th century in the Egyptian desert, which harvested more than a third of the monks, and the Fathers were saying with great inspiration that, ‘God is harvesting souls of saints for His Kingdom,’ and they did not waver. The Lord Himself speaks in the Gospel about the last days, about the trials and afflictions which the world will go through before His Second Coming. However, we discern neither morbid sadness nor despair in His words. The Lord Who prayed in the garden of Gethsemane with a sweat of blood for the salvation of the whole world, says that when we see the terrible things that precede His Second Coming, we should lift up our heads with inspiration, for our redemption draws nigh (cf. Luke 21:28). Some tell me, ‘May God extend His helping hand.’ But this is precisely the hand of God. He desires and works our salvation ‘at sundry times and in divers manners’ (Heb. 1:1): ‘My Father worketh hitherto, and I work’ (John 5:17). This virus may be a means that God uses in order to bring many to themselves and to repentance, and to harvest many ready souls for His eternal Kingdom. Therefore, for those who surrender and entrust themselves to the Providence of God all will contribute for their good: ‘All things work together for good to them that love God’ (Rom. 8:28).

Thus, there is no room for morbid dismay. Neither should we resist the measures that the government is taking in order to diminish the spreading of the afflictions we see in the lives of so many people. It is wrong to go against the authorities. We should do whatever the Government says, because they are not asking for us to deny our faith, they are only asking us to take a few measures for the common welfare of all people, so that this trial may pass, and this is not at all unreasonable. Some people take it too confessionally, they raise flags and play the martyrs and the confessors. For us there is no doubt: we shall show pure submission to the orders of the Government. It is unfair to disobey the Government since, when we fall ill, it is to their hospitals that we run and they are the ones who undertake all the expenses and our care. Why not listen to them?

This is the ethos of Christ that God showed in His life on earth and this is the apostolic commandment that we have received: ‘…be subject to principalities and powers, obey magistrates, be ready to every good work, speak evil of no man, be no brawlers, but gentle, shewing all meekness unto all men’ (cf. Tit. 3: 1-2); and ‘Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord’s sake: whether it be to the king, as supreme…’ (see 1 Pet. 2:13-17). If we do not obey our governors who are not asking much, how will we obey God, Who gives us a divine law, which is far more sublime than any human law? If we keep the law of God we are above human laws, as the apologists of the 2nd century said during the Roman Empire which was persecuting the Christians. It is surprising to see in the country where we live, in the United Kingdom, that the footballers show such understanding and discernment so as to be the first to withdraw from their activities with docility towards the indications of the Government to take prophylactic measures. It would be sad for us, people of faith, to fail reaching the measure of the footballers and showing the same docility towards the authorities for which our Church prays.

If they ask us to stop our Church services, let us simply surrender and bless the Providence of God. Besides, this reminds us of an old tradition that the Fathers had in Palestine: in Great Lent, on the Sunday of Cheese fare, after the mutual forgiveness, they would go out in the desert for forty days without Liturgy; they would only continue in fasting and prayer so as to prepare and return on Palm Sunday to celebrate in a godly way the Passion and the Resurrection of the Lord. And so, our present circumstances force us to live again that which existed of old in the bosom of the Church. That is to say, they force us to live a more hesychastic [contemplative] life, with more prayer, which will however make up for the lack of the Divine Liturgy and will prepare us to celebrate with greater desire and inspiration the Passion and Resurrection of the Lord Jesus. Thus, we will turn this plague into a triumph of hesychasm. In any case, whatever God allows in our life is out of His goodness for the well-being of man, for He never wants His creature to be harmed in any way.

Certainly, if we will be deprived of the Divine Liturgy for a longer period of time, we can endure it. What do we receive in the Liturgy? We partake of the Body and Blood of Christ, which are filled with His grace. This is a great honour and benefit for us, but we also receive the grace of God in many other ways. When we practice hesychastic prayer, we abide in the Presence of God with the mind in the heart calling upon the holy Name of Christ. The Divine Name brings us the grace of Christ because it is inseparable from His Person and leads us into His Presence. This Presence of Christ which is purifying, cleanses us from our transgressions and sins, it renews and illumines our heart so that the image of God our Saviour, Christ, may be formed therein.

If we shall not have Easter in the Church, let us remember that every contact with Christ is Easter. We receive grace in the Divine Liturgy because the Lord Jesus is present in it, He performs the sacrament and He is the One imparted to the faithful. However, when we invoke His Name, we enter the same Presence of Christ and receive the same grace. Therefore, if we are deprived of the Liturgy, we always have His Name, we are not deprived of the Lord. Moreover, we also have His word, especially His Gospel. If His word dwells continually in our heart, if we study it and pray it, if it becomes our language with which we speak to God as He spoke to us, then we shall have again the grace of the Lord. For His words are words of eternal life (John 6:68), and the same mystery is performed, we receive His grace and are sanctified.

Furthermore, each time we show kindness to our brethren the Lord is well-pleased, He considers that we did it in His Name and He rewards us. We show kindness to our brethren and the Lord rewards us with His grace. This is another way in which we can live in the Presence of the Lord. We can have the grace of the Lord through fasting, alms giving and every good deed. So, if we are forced to avoid gathering in Church, we can also be united in spirit in these holy virtues which are known within the Body of Christ, the holy Church, and which preserve the unity of the faithful with Christ and with the other members of His Body. All the things we do for God is a Liturgy, for they minister unto our salvation. The Liturgy is the great event of the life of the Church, wherein the faithful have the possibility to exchange their little life with the boundless life of God. However, the power of this event depends on the preparation we perform before, through all the things we have mentioned, through prayer, good deeds, fasting, love for neighbour, repentance.

Therefore, my dear brethren, it is not necessary to make heroic confessions against the Government for the prophylactic measures that it takes for the good of all people. Neither should we despair, but only wisely devise ways so as not to lose our living communication with the Person of Christ. Nothing can harm us, we must simply be patient for a certain period of time and God will see our patience, take away every obstacle, every temptation and we shall again see the dawn of joyful days, and we shall celebrate our common hope and love that we have in Christ Jesus.

Please read the whole thing, and pass it around to all. We faithful struggling in the world need these words of monastic wisdom. More than we need them, we need to live them. This is hard road ahead, but we are walking it together. If you are not a religious believer, and do not wish to seek God out during this apocalypse (alas), then at least read Camus’s The Plague, which shows what heroic self-sacrifice in a time of pandemic looks like from the point of view of humanists who don’t have God, but who live by a higher code all the same.

Remember, there is no way to avoid walking this road. It will either lead us to God, or to condemnation. It’s the same road, but the destination at the end depends on us.

UPDATE: A reader who is a Czech-born emigrant to America sent me new photo that I lead this item with, and these words:

When I mentioned that I would touch on “I have never been calmer in my life”, I was going to say something along the lines of Archimandrite Zacharias (obviously not in his eloquent language but in that spirit). It came to me when I was sitting on the steps of a monastery called Marienberg or Muttergottesberg in German (Mountain of Mother of God). It is located in Czech border mountains about two miles from Poland. The history of the monastery is interesting and tumultuous but not important here. My father used to teach in the town bellow (Králíky) in the 50’s when he was banished from the place he used to live (nobody wanted to live in the emptied Sudetenland so he was shoved there). Anyway.  Looking at the path pilgrims used to walk up to plead their cases before Mother of God, the Monastery behind, I suddenly reevaluated everything. I could hear the gears shifting. What seemed important five minutes ago lost all its significance and meaning. What I have tried to hide from most of my life, as many of us have, suddenly presented itself as the only reality — all encompassing serenity. I took a picture of it.

That is the new photo above.

The post The Hard Road Ahead appeared first on The American Conservative.