BY HARRY WEEKES
We are in a pandemic. You do not have to be a reader of science fiction to know that this is not good.
Over the last couple of weeks I have noticed some of the same things as everyone else.
First. Global issues take on very different meaning when they manifest locally. Rising sea level in Miami is less relevant to me here than forest fires ringing Baldy, even when the underlying cause for both might be the same. Reports of coronavirus halfway around the world are very different than reports that it has made it to town and is possibly riding the gondola with me (I chose a vehicle no longer open simply to avoid spreading undo paranoia).
Second. We are a global and connected world. Yes, we have known this and heard about it, but the movement of coronavirus has been an eerie physical demonstration of just how global and connected we are.
Third. Quarantine is a strange simplifier, imposing a necessary triage on what each of us thinks about, feels like, and does.
I am, like everyone else, trying to answer a thousand shifting questions, foremost amongst them, “How to make sense of this?” Over the past few weeks, the situation has changed so rapidly and so often that it is hard for me to guess what new news, information, or response will be in place by the time this piece gets published. The new normal is abnormal. The only thing certain seems to be uncertainty. And more and more I find myself writing and saying, “Plans will change.”
There is the obvious connection in all of this, and it’s something we often forget, and sometimes we do not even acknowledge. The obvious is this—the ‘we’ is us. Humans. And humans are all animals.
Humans have three biological “musts”—air, water, and food. To these I would add two more—shelter and community. We need protection from the elements and we need each other.
In these days, some of the staying-healthy instructions have been simple and consistent—take care of yourself, eat well, sleep, and drink water. If you can, get out in the sun and exercise. And, of course, maintain a ‘social distance’ and stay away from people. (An odd aside I have noticed in my own behavior, I tend to drive even farther behind other cars, as though that makes any sense.)
The initial spread of coronavirus brought up much of the usual and unfortunate discrimination we see in times of fear and uncertainty. The subsequent and ongoing spread has stripped this away in some ways (removing a focus on specific populations), but also broadened it in others (now everyone is a potential carrier).
Fresh air, clean water, and food will always be essential. I want to advocate for our social necessities, too. Yes, keep the appropriate distance, but do so on a walk around Indian Creek or on the bike path or up Carbonate or around your block. When the afternoon sun lights up the side of your house, set out chairs and talk to one another. Open up the windows and sing like the Italians. Have a Zoom dinner party with your book club. Or just call someone. One of the great, emerging challenges of this time is, How do we keep our distance and not become totally isolated?
In permaculture there is a saying, “The problem is the solution.” Coronavirus is showing us that we humans are all in this together. So, let’s all be in this together.
Harry Weekes is the founder and head of school at The Sage School in Hailey. This is his 48th year in the Wood River Valley, where he lives with Hilary and two of their three baby adults—Penelope and Simon. The other member of the flock, Georgia, is currently fledging at Davidson College in North Carolina.
