A four-month retrospective – Evening statistics
Today marks four months since I first began this journal. It would appear a good time to take stock. There are plenty of experts to talk about the effects of the virus on a national and global scale; as always, my focus is on the individual life in the midst of this crisis. One does not always realize the extent to which social and historical trends shape a person’s life; we tend to believe that we have more control over the circumstances of our individual lives than we have in reality. During an experience such as this one, however, it is difficult to overlook the magnitude of the impact from external factors. In my own case, the pandemic has changed my life in many ways.
Personal health, thankfully, has not been affected at all – to date, at least. I have been reasonably prudent with respect to physical contact with other people and I have remained active in my habits. Thus far I have been fortunate and have not contracted the virus. In other respects, my health has been untroubled by the usual ailments that befall people in my age group: no bouts of rheumatism, no heart palpitations, no dental problems, no significant injuries, no shortness of breath, no digestive issues, not even any colds. And in this context I am reminded of a conversation some years ago I had with one of my cousins who works as a nurse in a hospital. When our discussion turned on the quality of the national health care system in general she gave me the following advice: “Don’t get sick.” It sounds like excellent counsel and I have done my best to comply with it.
I have grown slightly leaner over the past couple of months. I have been eating less and exercising more. With no parties to go to and no dining out, my diet has become somewhat simpler; on the other hand, my days have been filled up with hiking to a greater extent than in the past, for there is little else to do by way of diversion. Even on days when I have not been hiking on trails I have been getting out and going on foot a good deal locally. I have also been eating more vegetarian meals than before, especially in the earlier part of the spring when the supply of meat and fish was a bit more sporadic than it is now.
Certain habits that seemed strange and unusual initially have now become a matter of routine. Whenever I step out of the house I put on a mask first as a matter of course. When driving I always have a mask in the car, even if my destination is a lonely trail on which I plan to hike without companions. One never knows if one might have to stop for an emergency or if the need to purchase one or more items in a store may become urgent. This sort of behavior has become, to use a phrase that is currently in wide use, “the new normal.”
Walking out of doors along the streets has changed. Many people are now donning face masks as a matter of course. Even those who do not will, when they encounter one another by chance in the streets, veer to one side or the other of the sidewalk or path in order to avoid physical proximity. Handshakes as a greeting are much less frequent. These trends are not absolute – there are many holdouts, especially in this country. But in general people are holding one another at a distance and in consequence their lives are becoming more isolated and introspective.
Social life has naturally been very much restricted. I have not seen any of my relatives for nine months – always excepting the brief visits to the assisted living facility where my mother resides; and she is too sunk into dementia to recognize me at this point. If all goes well, I will be able to visit my aunt in New York this month for her 90th birthday and we will be able to have a celebration of sorts. But one of her children lives in Chile and two others live in states that are on New York’s travel advisory list for mandatory quarantine, so it will be less elaborate than our family had originally hoped. Casual visits to friends have ceased almost entirely – not quite entirely, for there have been occasions when I have gotten together with a couple of friends to sit outside together. But they are infrequent and require careful planning. Any kind of party that involves several people coming together is, of course, out of the question. The activities associated with the majority of my hiking clubs have been placed on hiatus as well. The only group with which I have consistently associated over the past several weeks is the Vigorous Hikers, and even that has significantly altered. Formerly we met at commuter parking lots and carpooled to the trailhead together; now we drive there individually, nor do we socialize much after the hike is over. All of the social events planned by the Wanderbirds for the year have had to be canceled. The Capital Hiking Club has also canceled its activities. There are several friends in the area whom I have not seen since March. It will take some effort to restore former relations once the pandemic has passed. “Friendships must be kept in constant repair,” as Samuel Johnson says; and the lack of physical contact with so many means that there will be a good deal of catch-up to do once normal conditions are restored.
Another aspect of my life that has changed is entertainment: no concerts, no movie-going, no visits to the theatre. The last time I was in a theatre for performing arts was on March 6th, when I went with RK to see the King Singers at George Mason University. It sounds like a trivial matter, and yet it is not after all; for what is merely entertainment for me represents income for singers, musicians, dancers, actors, directors, stage managers, set designers, ticket office personnel, etc. It is true that I had not intended to renew my subscription with the Shakespeare Theatre in any case. I have become increasingly dissatisfied with it over the years. Not with the quality of the acting – our acting schools turn out generation after generation of consistently excellent performers, with seemingly inexhaustible supplies of energy – but with the directors. More and more they strive to “update” the plays – that is to say, they substitute their own expressions for those of Shakespeare, Ibsen, Chekhov. Few admirers of the playwrights think that the plays gain by the change. In the course of a couple of years I have seen a rendition of Macbeth – a play with numerous references to fog, mist, and rain – set in the Saharan portion of North Africa; an adaptation of Aeschylus’ Oresteia that gave great prominence to the role of Iphigenia – who never even appears in the original; and a version of Peter Pan that presents Wendy as a thoughtful, studious, introspective child with aspirations for a scientific career – in other words, the type for child for whom a visit to Never-Neverland would not hold the slightest attraction. Perhaps after the pandemic is over and the theatre companies are contriving to lure viewers again, the directors will cast aside these clumsy and heavy-handed approaches that do their best to drive audiences away.
Travel has become less frequent. All of the travel plans I made earlier for this year have been canceled. Even now, with planes and trains available within the country, it remains too much of a risk for most people to use them. I certainly feel that way myself. If I go to New York, I will be driving it all the way. I have been avoiding even the local public transportation, which means that I have not been to downtown DC for months; ordinarily I use the Metro rather than the car when I go there.
Initially there were shortages of certain items – toilet paper, flour, yeast, and so on – but these appear to be contained for the most part. In the early days of the virus many people were hoarding and there were numerous headlines about them in March and April, but such reports have become much less frequent now. One consequence of the temporary shortages is that I’ve started bread-making again. I began to make my own bread while I was a graduate student, when my schedule was fairly irregular; once I started working at a job that required commuting to an office every day I practically gave it up. Occasionally I would make some during a Saturday or a Sunday, but for the most part I bought bread at local bakeries. But when bread became temporarily unavailable I reverted to making my own, and I will probably continue to do so.
I have not saved any money during the months of the lockdown – which actually is slightly surprising. One would think that personal expenses have been considerably reduced: no dining out at restaurants for any reason, no air travel or train travel, no stays at hotels, no guests staying overnight to feed, no theatre excursions, etc. I even have had to go without haircuts for a period of more than two months. There have been unexpected expenses, of course – issues with the house circuit-breaker, replacing the desktop’s monitor, repair of the air conditioning system, and so on; but there are almost always unexpected expenses during every season, and these have not been especially onerous. I have not been pressed for funds and I have never been in danger of being overdrawn, but I had expected the balance in my checking account to be larger than it currently is.
There are two causes that, as I believe, have driven my expenses up. The first is that I’ve been driving a good deal more on my own to various trailheads. Formerly I would carpool with others, so that, for example, if I hiked four times in a month with the Vigorous Hikers I might be a driver for only one of these four. There is no carpooling now, and everyone must drive himself to any trailhead, whether he is hiking alone or with a group. Although the gasoline prices are lower than they have been for many years, the mileage adds up; driving to even the closest points in Shenandoah National Park, for instance, is well over 100 miles round trip. The other is that it seems to me that the prices of food have increased. I have not been tracking them very carefully, so I cannot be certain on this point; but I have noticed when reviewing the charges on my credit card that the amounts expended on food are higher than they were earlier in the year. It would not be surprising if so; I have no doubt that expenses associated with harvesting, transportation, packaging, etc., are higher now than they were before the pandemic began and of course these are passed on to the consumer.
I need hardly say that these observations are made for the purposes of providing a record of the current state of affairs, and should in no way be interpreted as grievances. I know very well that as matters go I have been quite fortunate in comparison with the great majority of my countrymen during the pandemic. There is a certain type of humor among Americans, and among American Jews in particular, that is sometimes referred to as “kvetching” – which is frequently translated as “complaining” but that doesn’t really do it justice: “complaining developed to an art form” would be more like it. It is the basis for much of the humor of the Borsht Belt comedians and indeed of a good deal of standup comedy in general. But it can be overdone and, if indulged in to excess, its effects can be corrosive. In this statement I am influenced, doubtless, by my habits of pacing the trails and clambering over the heights. Plaints and laments will make little impression on the boulders, stream crossings, marshes, tree roots, and other obstacles that occur from time to time during one’s progress; and the most mordant of witticisms will be thrown away on a bear making a bluff charge. For those I need other weapons.
Lastly, the process of keeping a journal has been quite a change in itself. I have become more alert to the daily news in the attempt to track various changes over the world at large and this country in particular as people respond to the pandemic. Whatever else may come of these developments, it is not often that one is conscious of being directly involved in a significant global event. I can document only a tiny fraction of the ramifications of the pandemic, but there is a sense of accomplishment in assembling a record that can be used as a reminder of what we have endured once the pandemic comes to an end.
Of course, how and when the pandemic will pass remains an open question. The global case count was slightly over one-quarter of a million on March 20th. It is now almost 15 million – close to a 60-fold increase. That means that if the virus case number continues to increase in this manner, the case count four months from now will be between 800 and 900 million, or rather more than 10% of the world’s population. One must, of course, not be too alarmist. Therapeutic treatments are rapidly being developed, and they will be available well before any vaccine is approved. These will greatly mitigate the effects of the virus and reduce the mortality rate. There seems reason to believe that vaccines will be developed with more speed than usual, possibly within the next twelve months. There seems little doubt, however, that the U.S. will be fortunate if the number of deaths from the virus does not exceed 250,000 by the end of the year.
Today’s statistics as of 8:00 PM – # of cases worldwide: 14,844,353; # of deaths worldwide: 612,585; # of cases U.S.: 3,960,583 # of deaths U.S.: 143,792.