On the AT and in Sky Meadows – A cherished memory – Residual damage from Isaias – The question of re-opening schools – Evening statistics
Although I was not especially tired after the end of yesterday’s hike, a reaction set by the evening. I went to bed early and even after I arose this morning I felt a bit drowsy and out of sorts. But my energies revived when I met with AD and three others in the morning for a hike that took us from the Fred Thompson Wilderness to the Appalachian Trail, where we headed north towards Sky Meadows, went down the Ambassador Whitehouse Trail to the Paris Overlook and back, continued to the Old Trail (the former route of the AT, which was re-routed to form more connections with the trail network in Sky Meadows), went up along the Old Trail back to the AT, and retraced our steps to the cars – between 11 and 12 miles in all and perhaps 1600 feet of elevation gain.
The area has many memories for me, and one in particular recurred to both AD and myself as we went down the Ambassador Whitehouse Trail. Many years ago, in winter, we had had an ice storm and the day following it was cold, raw, and foggy – not the most inviting sort of time for hiking, I will admit. When I pulled into the Vienna Metro I was told that the bus trip had been canceled on account of the large number of people who bowed out. AD said that she was willing to organize a carpool hike for anyone who was willing. Only myself and two others were (JK, who was one of them, was also a member of our group today; the fourth, who came from Sri Lanka, was living in the U.S. at the time but has since returned to his native country). So she set up a route in the Sky Meadows area, part of which involved going down the Ambassador Whitehouse Trail to the overlook. For the most of the hike the atmosphere was misty, dun-colored, and eerily silent, like the land in Keats’ “La Belle Dame sans Merci” where no birds sing. When we came to descend to the overlook, however, the clouds lifted, sunbeams pierced through the fog and quickly dispersed it, the sky became richly blue, the snow on the path began to glow in the reflected light, and the ice encasing the twigs and branches of the trees that arched over us shimmered and shone like crystal. The entire process took no more than a couple of minutes. After we paused at the overlook, took in the view, and passed on, the clouds closed in again and the sky became gray; the timing of the clearing was such that one could imagine that it was done entirely for our benefit.
It was one of those magical moments that occur only occasionally even to those who go out of doors often, and only to those who are prepared to receive it when it comes: a moment when the entire world seems luminous and full of wonder and of beautiful things, when the earth itself appears to be smiling upon all of creation and the blood in one’s veins throbs in intensity, as if responding to an invitation to a joyous dance. This reaction is not quite the same as religious ecstasy, but it can easily be confused with it. Such a moment is generally associated with ascending the summits of mountains and looking downwards upon the ridges and valleys below, and it probably does occur in such settings more frequently than elsewhere; but it can occur in other situations as well, always provided, as I say, that those to whom it is offered are ready to accept it when it presents itself.
AD told me that the tornados following in the wake of Hurricane Isaias caused considerable loss along the coastal areas. In Calvert County many of the beaches along the bay and the roads leading to them were flooded, and driving in that area remains difficult on account of the numerous road closures. Several houses were without power for many hours. The storm’s swath was heavily localized; further inland, when I live, it manifested itself merely as several hours of steady rainfall followed by a clearing and with little residual damage.
Governor Ned Lamont, of Connecticut, is vigorously pushing for re-opening of schools to avoid a “lost year.” He has unveiled a framework for all Connecticut students to have the ability to access in-school, full-time instruction for the upcoming year and announced last week that the state would provide an additional $160 million to help school districts open safely. Similarly, Governor Cuomo in New York is paving the way for re-opening schools in his state as well.
I suppose my own attitude towards the idea of students attending school in person under the current circumstances can readily be discovered. I look upon it is little short of insanity. I am well aware that not all students can obtain quick access to workstations on which to log on in order to obtain instruction. I am aware that this issue poses particular problems for poorer neighborhoods, where students’ parents may be unable to afford the necessary electronic equipment and the monthly payments for routing services. I am aware that online instruction is probably less effective than in-person instruction for a substantial number of children, such as those with ADD. But with all of these considerations, the risks are too great. Nearly 100,000 American children to date have been infected by the virus. Dozens have died from it. It is quite conceivable that many more will have heart damage for life as a result. The teachers as well as students will be undergoing continual risk if they take to the classrooms. I have a few teachers among my acquaintance, and there is not one of them who regards the prospect of being in a room full of potentially infected children without dread.
Already we have seen the results of schools being re-opened in Georgia. The incidence of COVID cases has spiraled in students and teachers alike. One school alone had nine cases in the course of a single week. Nine cases may not sound like much, but it is nearly 0.5% of the school’s student population. Factor in the highly infectious nature of the disease, which is accelerated by situations involving several people indoors in close proximity to each other, and the very short time it took for these first infections to appear, and it requires no great powers of calculation to extrapolate the devastation that will result in the course of a few months.
I am ranting too much, I suppose. Since I am not a student, teacher, or parent, I can give only an outsider’s point of view – though it is not wholly unconnected with me or with others in my situation, since a greater number of people at large being infected increases the chances of getting infected oneself.
Today’s statistics as of 8:00 PM – # of cases worldwide: 20,008,255; # of deaths worldwide: 733,345; # of cases U.S.: 5,198,650; # of deaths U.S.: 165,592. Strangely enough, today was an improvement for us: less than 50,000 new cases and only 509 deaths – to think that we are reduced to describing over 500 deaths in a day as “only”! But it is an improvement over the past several days when we’ve been getting over 1,000 deaths in a day, and I must faithfully record it as such.