Hiatus

As a boy I went with a group of other boys around my own age to gather wood for the large central boiler that heated our house. Our leader was an older man who had been a farmer in Cambridgeshire in his younger days and had many stories of old times. I don't mean this to be a character study but I will go so far as to say that in looking back I am amazed at his patience with us and how much he succeeded in teaching us.

This man - H - would run the chainsaw. The assortment of boys would load cut wood as well as use hatchets to cut off branches from fallen trees so the saw could have better access. The best parts of the day for me were "morning drinks" - coffee or tea with a snack, lunch and of course best of all "afternoon drinks" which, although the portion of snacks were normally smaller, signaled that the work day was pretty much over.

As you can perhaps tell by reading between the lines of this short history I was not hankering to be working. I spend most of my time wishing it was over...

I remember riding on the wagon behind the tractor (an old Massey Ferguson - and before that, an even older Ferguson) and wishing with all my heart for something to go wrong. Could the tractor break down? Could the chainsaw break - for longer than the 10 or 15 minutes it seemed to always spend having issues throughout the day: this was not sufficient for work to be called off! Of course my wishes were not completely unsubstantiated. Such things did happen - but never often enough for me. Only, shall we say, often enough to keep the hope alive.

Such wishes are fairly irresponsible because they do not care about such things about finance and whether anyone gets hurt. 

The initial COVID crisis appeared to me somewhat like this. It seemed the world had broken down. I was working from home, which meant that I could make a decent cup of coffee and enjoy it while wading through the first delightful morning hours of work in a quiet house - all without dressing properly or commuting; there were free musicals being released each week; we watched the LOTR through as a family (the boys were finally old enough!) and so on. There was a cozy apocalyptic feel to things.

Of course this attitude - enjoying the crisis - might be said to require quite an irresponsible viewpoint. But I feel that I can compartmentalize sufficiently to pull it off!

As time goes by we humans get used to pretty much everything. Soon it is business as normal once again even though normal has changed. 

Our masks become similar to those we've always worn on the inside. There are elements of the Emperor's new clothes at work. I visit a store. The sign at the door asks me to be courteous and wear a mask: "We wear ours to protect you. Wear yours to protect us." But I overhear enough to let me know that the sign is a farce: the actual reasons are superficial, like the masks themselves. The employees are not careful of their own selves behind the scenes. I have become part of a huge elaborate superstition: we fear bad luck and so cannot call its bluff. Those who brashly do are seen to be rude and careless of the lives of others. And in fact they may be even if lives are not at stake.

I find my courtesy, when I extend it (which I am trying to do) is only skin deep and hasn't touched any lives because those I do it for do not want it. The thirst of the vast and unapproachable CDC and other government juggernauts cannot be slaked by such submissive offerings. 

And yes, there are those who are truly scared: I see them wearing masks alone inside their own vehicles. They cower in the grocery aisles - or do not come in at all. But I am not at all sure there is a way to quiet this paranoia however much courtesy is shown. 

Meanwhile we are all bound for the same destination, masked or no: all is but a weak and ineffectual scrabbling against the inevitable. Let us instead enjoy the ride.

"

We're all traveling down your road

No matter how we may struggle

Every one of us is surely growing old"

(Malcolm & Alwyn)