One thing I have heard repeatedly in conversations about the
Corona Virus pandemic or the U.S. national and local responses is, “at least we
will be ready for next time.” This is a horrifying thought. It’s as if Steven
King was asked to organize a fire drill to prepare for the end of the world.
I’m not sure which part of the newfound awareness from this
practice disaster is least comforting. That segments of the national government
are more concerned with money than life? That our fellow citizens are prone to
panic buying of stupid things? That it took over a month for the federal government
to admit there was actually a serious problem? That it took a near catastrophe to
realize segments of the news media and major internet platforms have no sense
of what a valid information source looks like? Maybe it was disturbing that,
rather than focus on the problem, there was a distinct undertone of trying to
blame the virus’s origin on “someone?” Or perhaps that there is a real sentiment
by some Americans that people should be allowed to die as long as they are not
my neighbors or in my community.
It almost feels like the revelation of an obvious yet
important lesson. Like, that next time, as
a hurricane approaches, I won’t let the cat out. Never did see that cat again
after hurricane Sandy!
Worst of all, to me, is the complacent acknowledgement that
this will happen again in some form. This time it was maybe actually good. It
was not Ebola, bubonic plague or something bad that killed people.
Ultimately and sadly, just like out of a Steven King novel,
it is not the disease that posed the worst danger, but us. That there are those
people and companies who shamelessly profit from disaster or guard their
profits by refusing to admit there is a disaster.
Yes, I learned a few things. I need to read more Steven
King. And I need to think about who I want to cough on first when I catch whatever
the next plague turns out to be.
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