opinion
Living in the Ozarks, our news is typically generated on the coasts, far enough away that even the news that 100,000 Americans have died from COVID-19 is far enough away from our experience that my neighbors still show up at the hardware and grocery store in groups, wandering about with no mask and no apparent awareness that we are in a pandemic that, while it is not much in evidence here, certainly will be. Am I being paranoid or do some people actually resent the fact that, as a man over 60 with “underlying conditions,” I am wearing a mask and gloves and I dodge their attempts at brushing up against me or back up when their toddler children come charging down the aisle?
I am reminded of the tedious lectures I endured 40 years ago about Hegel’s thoughts on resolving particularity through love. Surely the excessively wordy philosopher had seen the hazards of class, religious and racial prejudice in 19th century Germany as much as I see it at my local grocery. Wearing a mask is not so much to protect me but to protect those around me in the store from me, in the event that I unknowingly have the deadly virus. So, when the coughing man standing inexcusably close behind me in the checkout lane is not wearing a mask, I can be fairly certain that he does not love me, nor does he seem to be concerned about the children standing next to him.
Although the better news programs try not to speak of death in the tens of thousands but rather tell us about famous composers, writers, actors and some of the heroic health care workers who have died, still, my community seems to either be immune to facts or they believe themselves, mistakenly, to be immune to the virus. None of the noble deaths reported on TV seem to impress them with the fact that someone they love could easily be next.
I no longer have the luxury of being exposed only to the wide-angle lens view of the pandemic with numbers from Italy, Germany, England, Brazil and America. As horrifying as the thought that by the first of August there will likely to have been 140,000 American deaths is, today I am thinking about Julio. Julio died today. His sister is the medical assistant of my friend, William, who is a physician in NYC. William lives in an apartment with his wife, daughters and mother-in-law. His family remains in virtual isolation while he goes daily to valiantly care for the sick, and so, when he comes home, he spares them the details of his day.
I am honored to FaceTime with him most evenings with a strong drink sitting in front of us both as we toast Mr. Kim, a 70-year-old Korean man who played tennis every week until the week that he fell suddenly ill and died. Day after day, one or two more diagnoses or one or two more deaths. Tonight, we will talk about Julio and tomorrow, unfortunately, a 60-year-old pharmacist who decided to have his daughter, a nurse infected with COVID-19, come to stay with them while she recovered. But the pharmacist was intubated today and now has about a 90% chance of having a glass of rum poured in his honor this week. I am glad to be a supportive ear for my good friend. I sometimes even call the distraught family members of his former patients, but, for the most part, the pandemic is still physically far from us, though my eyes swell with tears in anticipation of my next FaceTime conversation with William.
I wish that the indifferent employees and customers defiantly walking through the aisles of local necessary stores could have heard my conversation with Claudia the day her husband of 40 years died. “He was a good man,” she wailed, “I know, I know,” I replied, though I could hardly “know” since I could only imagine him through her grief-riddled hysteria. Claudia is now homeless and poor beyond anything she had any reason to expect ... mortality comes with added casualties, like home, income, insurance and retirement. But, per Hegel, love is about bridging the isolation of the particular, i.e., “me and my little world,” to be reconnected with the larger reality that these 100,000 deaths were 100,000 somebodies, and by winter, a few thousand of them will have been taken from the aisles of Harter House and Home Depot. I just wish that I could say something that would persuade the unpersuaded that people they love will not see Christmas. Maybe then they could go into public wearing the visible sign of love for the stranger, a mask held at least six feet away from the next shopper.
Dr. Roger Ray is a local pastor (www.spfccc.org) who may be reached at RevDrRay@aol.com
"Love" - Google News
May 30, 2020 at 07:00AM
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Following COVID-19 safety rules shows love for others - News-Leader
"Love" - Google News
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