The Longest Month Continues
Atlanta, GA
March 32, 2020
March is supposed to come in like a lion and out like a lamb. In some sense, this one assuredly did. Roadways, sidewalks, and subways are certainly quieter than they were four weeks ago. And most of us feel as if we’d been sheared.
I almost can’t remember what people were roaring about when the month began, but they are bleating about only one thing now.
I vaguely recall my weeks filled with coffee in airport lounges, drinks at our new company bar, and dinner at the hotel bistro. My sons were planning dates, rehearsing concerts, and playing sports. My wife spent her days managing charitable gifts and her nights working charitable galas. Restaurants were packed and golfers were emerging from hibernation. The Public Spectacle abounded in its usual chicanery and skullduggery.
Like a touch of bad vermouth in a perfectly dry martini, a new topic had entered the mix and caused a stir, but had not yet spoiled the drink. Now, the bitter swill fills the whole glass. It sours faces, deflates spirits, and spurs hangovers…without benefit of a buzz. Even the olive is rotten.
At home, work continues. If anything, it has intensified. All by phone, some by video. Outside, flights are grounded and hotels are empty. Galas are postponed, some cancelled. Squirrels, deer, and wild dogs run unmolested across vacant fairways. Tumbleweeds roll thru abandoned watering holes and deserted dining halls.
As of this afternoon, all Georgia schools are closed till August. What most kids would normally have dismissed a transparent April Fool’s gag, they now absorb with disappointment and regret. No spring sports. No Senior Prom. No Graduation ceremony.
But the Public Spectacle continues unabated. If anything, like a couple teenage boys hitting the town in dad’s new Ferrari, the chicanery and skullduggery are accelerating…with four on the floor, whiskey in their flasks, and wedding rings in their pockets.
Few months have seemed longer than March of 2020. A joke making the rounds in technical circles is that they plan to uninstall and reboot it, because it contains a virus. Most of us would simply prefer an upgrade. Unfortunately, supply chains are broken, and none are immediately available.
Today is ostensibly the first of April, a day typifying rejuvenated hope and annoying levity. It launches what is usually among my favorite months, yet arrives this year like an impertinent prank. But no one is laughing. It feels less like the start of a typical April than a continuation of this particular March.
The Final Four should be held downtown this weekend, with The Masters down the road next week. Both court and course are silent. As are baseball diamonds, concert halls, and theatrical venues…except those being converted to make-shift medical wards. Only hospitals bustle, with their limited beds, cramped rooms, and insufficient garments bursting at the seams.
I was pleased this afternoon to hear the sound of power saws from a neighbor’s tree removal. It disturbed a conference call, but was a welcome dose of normalcy. On the other end of the line we heard recurring cries of small children, sporadic howls of barking dogs, and periodic interjections of intrusive spouses. Such are the sounds of make-shift offices in the age of house arrest.
Other effects of this bug are less benign. The near-term health implications are obvious, and alarming. The longer-term societal ramifications are more obscure, and ominous. April showers ostensibly bring May flowers. We only hope we can extract the authoritarian weeds that sprout from this pandemic deluge. If not, we should at least be able to use the currency as toilet paper.
But we should count our blessings. And we would, if only it didn’t take so long. We have a very comfortable bunker, and no people we’d rather share it with. We have reliable power, ready water, and a full pantry. We live in an era when an army of delivery services can reinforce our fragile supply chain. The weather is gorgeous. The birds are chirping.
And…we have our health. These days we‘re unsure if that remains a cliché. But it is certainly no joke.
JD
