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I found out this morning that somebody very dear to me might kill someone.
At some point soon, he’s planning an unnecessary (in my view, from my understanding) relocation. He’ll move back to his college town to take a job with a construction crew. He’ll be living with friends from across the nation. He’ll be driving across state lines to spend a few days socializing with them first. This news brought me to sudden and surprising tears, and it’s taken me all day to suss out why. I don’t fear for his safety – he is hale and healthy; he is kind and committed; he is intelligent, independent, and responsible. And in that last batch of traits, I think, lies the wellspring of my distress. I believe that “we are all in this together.” I also believe that sentiment is bullshit, when used to project a veneer of solidarity and sweep under the rug the ugly, honest-to-god mortal threat that COVID-19 poses to underserved populations, which are predominately poor and minority. I believe that “we are all in this together” truly means “we all get through this together.” It means that we are only as well as the weakest among us. It means that individual health has become a collective responsibility. It means that we can only view this pandemic as passed after everyone treats it with the respect and fear that it warrants. This someone who is very dear to me is intelligent enough to recognize the danger that his actions pose. This someone is independent enough to choose to keep the jobs that he already has, where he already is, in which he does not work with potential carriers. And his deep-seated sense of responsibility, of which I am outrageously proud, and enormous heart, as big as his size-13 feet, only make his choice all the more shocking and devastating. I know that his life was turned upside down, his summer plans (which were good ones, too) suddenly trashed, and that, as a man who cherishes every single friendship he has, our forced isolation must be wearing on him. I assume this is what underlies his risky move and sudden change, and in normal times I would trumpet his praises and crow about his industriousness to every open ear. I understand and admire his desire to shape his life into what he wants it to be – but, in the words of his Governor, “You can’t be doing that.” Because, in the words of our Governor, “You can’t have a livelihood without a life.” Let’s remember Mary Mallon, a poor cook who singlehandedly infected 51 people with a terrible fever in her line of work. Three of them died. We remember her today as Typhoid Mary. He could kill somebody and we’d only see it in the statistics. And that’s what worries me. Yes, his state is flattening the curve. Yes, they’ve met the criteria to start a phased reopening. But there are so many places that haven’t, and now is not the time to make their fight harder by introducing yourself as another potential vector of disease. Now is the time to knuckle down and rededicate ourselves to the recommended protections, because we see them working. In the lack of a coherent federal response, each and every one of us bears the burden of public health. Yes, it’s unfair. No, it shouldn’t be this way. Tough shit.
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May 2020
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