Greetings From Sector 7

Greetings from Sector 7. Things have been pretty quiet around here. Too quiet. Sometimes at night all I can hear is the ticking of the grandfather clock. At times it seems so loud it makes my ears ring. I could relax if I could only stop that infernal ticking. Wait. I remember. We don't have a grandfather clock. Then it must be a heartbeat. I'm not the only one in this house with a bass drum for a heart. Which one is doing this incessant pounding? I get it. It's not them. It's me. It's just the blood pulsing in my inner ear, through the cochlea and on to the cranium. Maybe it's time to remove the banana. Have I slipped into an Edgar Allan Poe story? Let me think. Oh yes. This is more like the novel White Noise by Don DeLillo, when a chemical spill from a railroad car created "The Airborne Toxic Event," which forces the evacuation of a college town. Time is measured as before and after the "Event." An experimental drug called "Dylar" is used to treat the widespread fear of dying, but it has unpredictable side-effects. If all this sounds familiar, it is yet another example of life imitating art. DiLillo's novel was published in 1985. Who knew thirty-five years later we would be living it?

We're making the best of our quarantine from the rampant spread of Covid-19, or as Trump calls it, the flu. Tennessee Governor Bill Lee didn't help matters when he was about three weeks later than other states to issue stay-at-home orders. My Nashville pals tell me that Lower Broadway was packed long after other cities had taken the health warnings to heart. When the bars finally did close, the only holdout determined to keep his saloon open was Trump devotee Kid Rock. As a result, Nashville is now a "hot-spot" for the virus. Memphis would be in decent shape if the virus wasn't being trucked in by our neighbors from Mississippi and Arkansas. Do you think there might be a connection between viral outbreaks in states with Republican governors who ignored the experts' warnings and a president who called it "the new Democratic hoax," with the legitimate press "in hysteria mode," designed to hurt his re-election chances? Fox News echoed the malignant disinformation, so now the virus has been confirmed in all fifty states and shelter-in-place orders have been issued nationwide while Trump is still issuing "travel guidelines." The "fake-news" New York Times reported that the president was warned of an impending pandemic in early January, but he played down the crisis not wishing to disturb the stock market and because of his suspicions over the motives of the "Deep State." 

All that's left to do is to make the best of an unprecedented disaster and practice social distancing until, or if, a vaccine is found. Actually, this isn't too much of a stretch for me. I'd make a great candidate for house arrest. Other than visit with friends, eat at a restaurant, or go hear live music, we didn't leave the house that much before the pandemic. I have Facetimed with more friends and relatives in the past month than I have in the previous eleven. Facebook has been a great tool to keep up with the other shut-ins, if they would only stop sending me videos on Messenger. Some of my relatively elderly acquaintances were unaware of the many food delivery services. OK BOOMER. Download apps from Postmates, Grubhub, DoorDash or Bite Squad and they'll deliver meals from your favorite restaurants right to your door. In fact, they'll leave it so no human contact is involved. But then again, some of my technically challenged friends don't know what an app is. Such is the generational divide. Also remember, you're not trapped in your house. You can still go for walks. If not for you, do it for the dog.

We've begun a walking routine after I passed by a mirror naked and saw a beer-belly that suddenly appeared out of nowhere- and I don't even drink beer. People are really friendly out there. If you see someone coming, this is the only time you can cross to the other side of the street without offending anyone. We even stopped to talk with a couple sitting on their font porch. I don't recall that happening, ever. Now I understand how people passed the time during the 19th Century. After the plague is over, there could be a renaissance of front porches. We've also been watching a whole lot of television. We got a smart TV but we're too dumb to figure out how to use it properly. The news reminds us that the real heroes of this scourge are the front-line medical workers who risk their lives in ill-equipped hospitals to treat the afflicted. But we've also realized which jobs are also truly "essential." They're not so much accountants or lawyers as they are grocery store employees- folks that stock the shelves, mop the floors, and make minimum wage. Then there are the drivers who bring you your food, chefs and cooks who prepare it, and restaurant workers, many who have been furloughed, who pack it up and send it out. My heart goes out to the club owners and all the great musicians who have lost their venues but post "virtual" concerts online, because we need them now more than ever. This virus won't last forever. Perhaps with the arrival of hot weather, we'll get a respite. But come November, I will crawl through an infected field of dead Chinese bats just to cast a vote against this evil, bloviating bastard. I can stand unlimited quarantine for the Coronavirus, but I can't take four more years of this man-made horror show.