By David Fortier
Come Sunday morning, with the Super Bowl on the horizon one of the big issues that arose in family texts was whether to root for Tom Brady and the Bucs over Patrick Mahomes and the Chiefs. Yes, trivia to a point but something that had to be discussed. The verdict, Brady–not a ringing endorsement but an endorsement just the same. And of course, there is the gesture by the NFL to offer free tickets to frontline workers, which is one of those warm and fuzzies for the moment.
Then there are the ongoing issues associated with the pandemic. Mary and I will have been tested for COVID one more time and will be waiting for our results. Seems a family member met with a friend before the friend found out she was positive. And then, before the family member knew any better and started to quarantine, we spent an hour together. That was a week ago, and even though I’ve been good about wearing masks and social distancing and washing my hands, I still feel like an idiot. And I would have a hard time forgiving myself if someone I came into contact within the interim got sick.
And that is how the coronavirus sneaks up. It sneaked up on another family member who lives out of state, and just like that, she was knocked off her feet—oxygen levels sunk below 90 percent. It’s scary enough when someone who lives in town gets sick and at least you are around, even though, you can’t be in direct contact; it is something else when a family member who lives 1,500 miles away gets ill and all you can do is wait to find out if that person is on the mend. And of course, even close by, there is that inconsolable feeling of helplessness.
Of course, vaccinations are wonderful, and I can’t wait until we all get vaccinated—or at least most of us: it is America, after all, and some people just may opt out—something I do not understand, unless of course, the person has some type of infirmity that makes them susceptible—something that is extremely rare; not that a person won’t have a reaction to the vaccination. It happens. When I get my flu shot, I know I am going to be sore and achy for at least a day. I would expect the same from any vaccination. But then, I have been inoculated and chances are I have protection, where beforehand, I did not.
Until I get vaccinated against the coronavirus and even afterwards, it’s going to be the same slog: masks, distancing, washing hands, some jokes to help alleviate the mundane nature of pandemic. It’s the new norm, and it means looking out not just for myself, but for those around us. You know the drill. Being in a high school, the message gets driven home daily.
Aside from this, the days pile up, and we try to do what we can to help, for instance, we order out at least once a week. Little things get us through, especially those video contacts with the kids and the grandkids, long phone calls, a daily check-in with my mom, whom I have not visited in a long while.
One thing that is different is that I have cut down on broadcast news, listen to more and more radio, and more often those podcasts, a lifeline. Click here for a link to a favorite podcast.
And I have taken to thinking about the news, making my critical comments to Mary about stuff that I have been thinking about for ages about how it could be improved. I mentioned a few last week—national coverage, the tropes of how we are a divided country, at each other’s throats, ready to throw down at a moment’s notice. Of course, there is some truth to this, but I would like some reporting not from the extremes, rather from those who are seeking solutions. This is something we are working out in our weekly TBE meetings.
An example of the reporting? It’s like this with the vaccinations. They are good in themselves, and the breakthrough, the speed with which they have become available is nothing short of miraculous. Let’s let that settle in for a moment—even celebrate it before railing about how the rollout has been a bit shoddy. Think about it. Why wouldn’t it be, since there wasn’t a plan in place. And when have we ever had a smooth rollout of anything?
Things take time. We are resilient. Let’s figure it out. There are people among us who are invested in vaccinations, the ones who, despite the criticism, aim to make the experience tolerable and efficient, the one who will get it done.
Here in Bristol, we’re somewhat lucky, a qualified lucky, because we have people working out the logistics (that funny word that means details) so that when more vaccinations become available, there is a plan in place. There is no doubt in my mind that there are many others in many communities across the state and country who are doing their best to work out these details too.
“Come Sunday morning” is intended to be a weekly review, a recounting of the past week and an anticipation of week to come. Among its features will be reviews of old and new books, sharing of favorite podcasts, some family news, Bristol events and happenings, and issues surrounding education, work and community journalism.