Payback's a Bitch

 

 

Jeff–Saturday

 

Through most of 2020 I wrote a monthly “Corona Chronicles” column for Greece’s Athens Insider Magazine.  It addressed living through pandemic times, as told from the perspective of an American mystery writer who’d called Greece home for 35 years.  I tried to end each column on a note more akin to Pollyanna’s unbridled optimism than Cassandra’s dire predictions of misfortune.

 

But by December 2020, I’d concluded Covid fatigue had set in, and writing about the pandemic was too much of a downer for reader and writer alike to continue. 

 

So, I stopped writing the column on what I thought an upbeat note. Like every upbeat note, its impact depends upon the composition from which it springs.

 

At that time, the world was caught up in a looping unrelenting dirge.  Eight months had passed since my first column and in that brief period total covid infections and deaths, in the US alone, had jumped from 1 million cases and 55,000 deaths to 13.4 million cases and 267,000 deaths.

 

Yet, millions of Americans chose not to wear masks, not to socially distance, not to avoid crowds, and not to wash their hands conscientiously; largely refusing to do so in service to disparate political, economic, and social agendas. Agendas with goals they believed more deserving of their trust and confidence than a simple request that they temporarily modify their lives so to protect their families, communities, and themselves from an invisible, silent, merciless slayer.

 

Me thinks there's a copyright infringement here

In hindsight, the corona virus’ deadliest advantage may prove to be that its effects were not obvious enough to turn skeptics into believers—bombs were not exploding around them, rivers were not flooding over them, ground was not giving way beneath them, and buildings were not crashing down upon them.

 

So, what optimistic upbeat note could I find amid all of that on which to end my column?  Here’s what I wrote. 

 

Thank God there are vaccines and therapeutics on the horizon, for I dare not think of how we’d fare were our survival contingent upon each of us doing the right thing for the common good.  With the finish line in this race for survival so close, all of us should band together to do whatever is necessary to assure that we all cross it safely.

 

As if that were not Pollyannaish enough, I went on to write:

 

I sense a hidden reward should we somehow find ways to feed the food insecure, save small businesses facing extinction, shelter the homeless, and provide renewed work opportunities for the unemployed. If we come even close to achieving those goals, it would seem but child’s play to mobilize the same world-wide cooperative scientific efforts that brought us Covid vaccines in record time, to join together in common cause toward eradicating other killer afflictions, such as cancer, tuberculosis, heart disease, Alzheimer’s, and AIDS.

 

So much for my daring to challenge the Cassandras among us.

 

Who could have anticipated that such medical miracles offered up to the world in record time would be vilified by faithless, merciless, charlatan opinion makers (I’m using the kindest words I can think of) to further personal political, social, and economic goals no matter the suffering their actions wreaked upon families, neighbors, and the world?

 

Today, the US has exceeded 46,180,000 total cases, and 754,000 total deaths.

 

Current world totals are reported to exceed 243,521,002 cases and 4,948,917 deaths.

 

There is a prayer often said in memory of souls who pass on in which the utterer beseeches the Lord, “May their memory be a blessing to their families for eternity.”

 

I wonder what sort of prayer of remembrance the many who’ve lost or will lose loved ones to the pandemic, or will suffer from long haul Covid complications, might offer upon the passing of those who, for merciless selfish ends, manipulated the trust reposed in them by so many unwary believing folk.

 

Payback’s a bitch.

 

–Jeff

 

Jeff’s Upcoming Events

 

Thursday, November 18, 2021 @ 16:00

ICELAND NOIR, Iðnó Theater

Reykjavic, Iceland

Panelist, Murderous Islands

with Katrin Juliusdottir, Michael Ridpath, and William Ryan (Moderator)

Corona Chronicle #7: Welcome to Cassandra Times

Jeff--Saturday

 

The following column appeared two days ago in Greece’s award-winning Athens Insider Magazine. The only change I’ve made to my published text is to update the statistics to include [in brackets] updated total Covid-19 cases and deaths reported in Greece, the United States, and the World since I submitted the column on November 30. 

 

The original version as published can be found here.

 

We don’t want to hear it or be reminded of it. The Voice of Reason. In the seventh of his monthly chronicles on living through pandemic times, as told from the perspective of an American mystery writer who has called Greece home for 35 years, Jeff Siger insists on why we cannot wear our noise-cancelling ear plugs just yet. Do not ignore the Cassandras, he suggests, as we move from Thanksgiving to Christmas.

 

Sadly, this year my wife and I could not make it to Greece, but as a consolation prize we’ve spent most of our time isolated at our pastoral New Jersey farm waiting for this plague to pass.

 

That has yet to happen.

 

Since my column one month ago, our world has experienced the once unimaginable, except to fans of science fiction and far-out dystopian political thrillers—plus, of course, to those brave public health professionals who told truth to power, warning in the starkest terms what lie ahead; only to be ignored, dismissed, and pilloried, as would be expected of modern day Cassandras.

 

I cannot imagine how different life will be when my resident bear emerges from hibernation in the spring. Hopefully, much better.

 

During the past thirty days, the United States elected a new President, and despite how loudly the current one protests, a new President will be sworn in at 12 noon on January 20, 2021. Over that same month, new Covid-19 infections in the US rose to nearly 200,000 per day. 

 

On April 24, 2020, I published my first column. That day America reported its highest single-day count of new pandemic infections, 36,741, a record not exceeded until two months later. Today, America’s daily new case count exceeds five times that number. 

 

Approximately a month ago, the United States reported a total of 8,700,000 cases and 225,000 deaths since the onset of the pandemic.  Today, those numbers have risen to more than 13,400,000 [14,355,000] cases and 267,000 [280,000] deaths.

 

The numbers boggle the mind and dull the senses.

 

So much so, that America’s Centers for Disease Control (CDC) and virtually every credible public health professional given the opportunity to speak, warned Americans to forgo their much-loved Thanksgiving holiday tradition of large family get-togethers, lest those numbers skyrocket higher in the weeks that follow.

 

From news reports, much of America did not listen.

 

But what of Greece?  Over that same one-month period cases and deaths more than tripled, with reported cases jumping from 31,500 to more than 104,000 [113,000], and deaths from 600 to 2300 [2800]. The nation is now on lockdown. Most of the rest of the world is doing worse, with more than 62.6 million [65.9 million] reported cases and 1.46 million [1.52 million] deaths.

 

We are in the midst of an epic catastrophe. How we got here historians will dissect for decades. Much criticism will undoubtedly fall upon leaders who proved themselves not up to the challenge, who chose baffling strategies that ignored simple measures to safeguard their citizenry, and who dismissively branded the pandemic a hoax. 

 

But let us not forget there’s blame to be shared among our fellow citizens who chose not to wear masks, not to socially distance, not to avoid crowds, and not to wash their hands conscientiously. I’m talking about those who knew the drill, but ignored it in service to disparate political, economic, and social agendas. Agendas with goals they believed more deserving of their faith and confidence than a simple request that they temporarily modify their lives so to protect their families, communities, and themselves from an invisible, silent, merciless slayer.

 

I’m talking about folk who in the early stages of the pandemic would say such things as, “Name one person you know who has Covid,” a challenge since modified to be, “Name one person you know who’s died from Covid.” 

 

In that dare may lie an answer to why so many fail to grasp the true impact of this pandemic, and the import of their actions and non-actions:  Bombs are not exploding around them, rivers are not flooding over them, ground is not giving way beneath them, and buildings are not crashing down upon them.

 

The corona virus’ deadliest advantage may prove to be that its effects are not obvious enough to turn skeptics into believers--unless they visit hospital ICU units overrun with Covid patients, morgues stacked with bodies of Covid victims, cemeteries packed with Covid mourners, or rehabilitation centers filled with the crippled bodies of survivors who could not escape Covid’s many insidious long-haul disabilities.

 

Thank God there are vaccines and therapeutics on the horizon, for I dare not think of how we’d fare were our survival contingent upon each of us doing the right thing for the common good.  With the finish line in this race for survival so close, all of us should band together to do whatever is necessary to assure that we all cross it safely. 

 

I sense a hidden reward should we somehow find ways to feed the food insecure, save small businesses facing extinction, shelter the homeless, and provide renewed work opportunities for the unemployed. If we come even close to achieving those goals, it would seem but child’s play to mobilize the same world-wide cooperative scientific efforts that brought us Covid vaccines in record time, to join together in common cause toward eradicating other killer afflictions, such as cancer, tuberculosis, heart disease, Alzheimer’s, and AIDS. 

 

Does that sound Pollyannaish?  Of course it does.  But at the moment, I prefer Pollyanna’s optimism to Cassandra’s predictions of misfortune.

 

I’m sure the bear agrees. I think I’ll call him Apollo.

 

–Jeff

Corona Chronicle #6: The Fall is Upon Us

The following column appeared this past Tuesday in Greece’s award-winning Athens Insider Magazine. The only change I’ve made to my published text is to update the statistics to include additional Covid-19 cases and deaths reported since Tuesday in Greece and the United States. 

The original version as published can be found here.

With tourist season behind us, a restless populus is understandably anxious to resume its old ways, writes American mystery writer and long-time Greek resident Jeff Siger in his sixth Corona Chronicle.  But for those who question the wisdom of the latest measures here in Greece, one need only look to Trump’s America for a cautionary tale.

This is the sixth of my monthly chronicles on living through pandemic times, as told from the perspective of an American mystery writer who has called Greece home for 35 years. Since I wrote my last column, my wife and I are back in lockdown mode at our pastoral New Jersey farm.  We’ve kept track of the seasons by keeping an eye on the changing colors of the foliage and activities of our resident bear.  The colors have shifted from a varying palette of deep greens to the burnished golds and reds of autumn, the bear no longer cools itself in our pond, and my wife awaits the day that I write an optimistic column on the state of our world’s battle with this plague.  

I regret to inform her today shall not be that day. 

I sincerely wish I could write such a piece, but that would be disingenuous, and if experts are to be believed, no date looms on the horizon for when I predictably may be able to do so. 

 

People are tiring of the battle, desperate to put memories of 2020 behind them, and resume the unrestricted lives they once led. These last warm days of autumn are drawing folk out in droves, eager to escape the cabin fever that’s kept them penned in for months. I share their desire but temper mine with a simple indisputable scientific fact:  The virus does not tire, cannot be willed away, and takes ruthless advantage of any edge we give it.  And we’re giving it many.

 

When governments allow politics to trump public health science as the means for appeasing their electorate’s understandable longings for the pandemic to “just go away,” the virus pounces. Nowhere is that more evident than in the United States, except perhaps Brazil, but virtually all the world has shown itself vulnerable to some degree to that sort of thinking.  As we head into the worst of the flu season, we need hope, we need vaccines, we need therapeutics, but more than anything else we need leadership.

 

As I’ve written before—quoting Joseph Stalin—“The death of one person is a tragedy.  The death of millions a statistic.”  We cannot allow our leaders to allow us to fall prey to that sort of numbed thinking.  

 

Artists are attempting to put faces to the statistics, writers offer personal takes on the lives of the dead and crippled, and musicians seek to keep our souls afloat while we await to see whether we’ll be the next statistic.   But those efforts shall not help us to defeat the virus if inept leadership obtains. 

 

So how is Greece doing?

Starting in the last days of July, Greece’s statistics have steadily risen, attaining record weekly highs in mid-October, reporting more than 37,000 Covid-19 cases and over 600 deaths since February.  Deaths in October alone have far outstripped total pandemic deaths in Greece during all previous months.  Though more than eighty countries report higher case and death totals than Greece, its health authorities are alarmed.  Mask wearing is now mandated nationwide, lockdowns have been reimposed in some (but not all) regions of Greece where most cases are reported, and an overnight curfew is now in effect in Athens and other high alert areas. This is not the only crisis Greece is facing at the moment, but it is one the nation can address unilaterally--as it so successfully has earlier this year. 

The tourist season has had its expected impact on the spread, and a restless population is understandably anxious to resume its old ways, but as winter approaches, it is more important than ever that Greece’s government continues to follow the advice of its public health scientists.  For those who question the wisdom of that approach, one need only look to the United States for an example of the consequences of leadership disregarding science.  Reported cases in the United States now exceed 9,000,000 with deaths above 230,000.  Adjusting for a population thirty times the size of Greece, if Greece followed the example of the US, its case total would be greater than 300,000 (instead of 37,000) and deaths would exceed 7600 (instead of 600).  

Think about that…as you hopefully wash your hands, put on your mask, socially distance, and avoid crowds. 

And think about this too: In nations where governments tout plans for achieving “herd immunity,” is that really a plan, or simply an excuse for avoiding the difficult political decisions necessary to safeguard the health and safety of their citizens.  “Herd immunity” is an epidemiological term for when a sufficiently large percentage of a population (estimated to be 70% for Covid-19) has developed immunity to a virus so that it is unlikely to spread.  BUT, herd immunity is meant to be achieved through the administration of vaccines, not by a government’s barbaric decision to allow a frightening disease to run rampant through an unprotected population, unnecessarily killing millions and crippling multiples more. 

A return to the Middle Ages is not a solution.

By the way, there’s no need to take my word on any of this.  My resident bear can give you guidance on the subject. After all, he belongs to no herd…but finds prey among the weakest and unprotected of those who do.

Stay tune for better news. Those days shall come. I promise.

 

–Jeff

 

PS.  And for those of you who don’t find this scary enough…HAPPY HALLOWEEN.

 

 

A Late Covid-Summer Musings on a Mystery Writer's Dilemma

 

Jeff–Saturday

 

This is the fifth of my monthly chronicles on living through pandemic times that I’ve written for Athens Insider Magazine, as told from the perspective of an American mystery writer who has called Greece home for 35 years. My wife and I had been in lockdown mode at our pastoral New Jersey farm since late February, but for August we’re experiencing lockdown Manhattan-style. I’ve entrusted the care of the farm to my resident bear, on the assumption that unlike virtually every human soul on the planet, he’s not preoccupied by thoughts of a dramatic autumn and cataclysmic winter.  He’ll just sleep through whatever comes.

 

In past columns I’ve made sparce mention of the effect of the pandemic on creative types—like writers--in part because I sensed few wanted to hear about the drama in another’s life with so much going on in their own. I thought I’d wait until things got better, and then drop my thoughts in as a “reflection” on those past days when things seemed bleakest.

 

Sadly, I fear better days are far away for many, so perhaps it’s time to reveal my dilemma as a distraction--if only for me.

.

I have a new book coming out in April 2021 in my Greece-based Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis series.  I finished it long before the days of Covid-19, but have not modified it to reflect the gloom that hangs over the universe. Besides, it’s about Naxos, a special place in my heart that deserves a testament to better times and memories. 

 

But my quandary’s not over that book, it’s with the one I’m working on for 2022.  I don’t see how a novel set in contemporary times can avoid the reach of the pandemic, particularly a police procedural mystery-thriller.  Imagine a world where eyewitness identifications are left to describing the mask worn by the perpetrator snuggly below a tight fitting head covering, and fingerprints disappear beneath hospital gloves openly worn as a sign of compliance with public health concerns, while police struggle with whether to confront, transport, and interrogate a coughing feverish suspect.

 

But those are petty stylistic concerns.  Let’s cut to the chase.  No matter how well-written or ingenious an author’s tale may be, who will want to read about the very thing they’re desperately seeking to escape?  We’re too close to the flames of this wildfire to think anytime soon about toasting marshmallows.

 

All we want to know is when this looming foreboding, growing inexorably more ominous every day, will run its course, and give our lives a chance of returning to what they once were.

 

I wish I had a solution, but all I have are questions.  Four to be precise, each intended to yield a clue as to how our respective societies will likely fare in navigating these treacherous times. Each is based on a simple premise: What is more important to your society…

 

Businesses or lives?

 

Political strategies or public health principles?

 

Learning from mistakes, or defending them to the death?

 

The welfare of the community or individual freedom?

 

I suspect your answers will be nuanced, as it appears most societies are struggling to find a balance between extremes, either by plan or default. It’s as if most of the world is off doing its own thing, leaving Covid-19 to do its own thing—infecting every target of opportunity.

 

I wish I could say the United States has seen the error of its ways and is once again a beacon of leadership.  But we all know I can’t. America’s situation grows direr each day, as Americans await the first wave to run its largely unchecked course, and brace for the predicted second wave. The nation’s 4% of the world’s population now heads into the school year and peak flu season accounting for 25% of the world’s Covid-19 cases.

 

Greece has stumbled a bit, with cases recently quadrupling in a two-week period. Frankly, that’s not unexpected, as the country reopened for tourism relying upon visiting revelers to behave properly. That worked out for Greece about as well as it did for the US during its college break season.  Partiers (especially the young) are not predisposed to respecting “don’t party” rules, and with businesses actively encourage the fun, the consequences are inevitable.  Thankfully, the Greek government stepped in to quell the spike, as we await the impact of the nation’s August 15 holiday festivities.

 

In critically trying times such as these, polities look to their leaders for straight answers, reasoned judgments, and determined action. Yet, so much of the world seems to be slipping back into darker days. The EU and UK are scrambling, Russia (and others) are likely obfuscating, Brazil remains in denial, and Venezuela is imprisoning its infected as “bioterrorists.”

 

Hmm, perhaps I should check with my neighborhood bear to see if his cave can accommodate any additional hibernators.

 

­–Jeff

 

 

 

Ruthlessly at Play With Our Destinies and Moods

Jeff­–Saturday

Shortly after submitting my July column chronicling coronavirus for Greece’s Athens Insider Magazine, I received this email from its publisher: “When I suggested a monthly column, I really didn’t expect this invisible virus to play with our destinies and moods as ruthlessly as it has!”

And I thought I was the writer.

In a simple phrase she’d summed up the universal impact of a worldwide catastrophe on every soul on the planet … from pauper to President.  

That sort of insight on our times continues in this month’s issue of Athens Insider as it “kicks off the glorious Greek summer, rife with stories about how the way we perceive travel, fashion, the environment and freedom has been transformed forever.”  No wonder it’s been honored in its 20^th year of publication by its hospitality industry peers with “The Best Travel Magazine Award.”  Congratulations.

And now, on to my column, as introduced by the publisher and titled, “The Fate of Nations at a Covid Crossroads.”

In his fourth chronicle since Covid took over our collective destinies, Jeff Siger, the American mystery writer who has called Greece home for 35 years, ponders on how countries like Greece have to balance conflicting goals – letting tourists in without jeopardizing national health. At issue in 2020 is whether Greece will emerge from the year with its reputation intact as a place where tourists and locals value one another, and the health of all is paramount. Siger believes that what will keep tourists flocking back is a sense that in Greece they’re safe, amidst a world seeming less so every day.

This is the fourth of my monthly chronicles on living through pandemic times, as told from the perspective of an American mystery writer who has called Greece home for 35 years. My wife and I are in lockdown mode at our rural New Jersey farm, and expect to be here for the foreseeable future. New York and New Jersey have done a good job at battling the crisis, but by and large the situation in the US is an unmitigated disaster.

Even the bear that wanders across my property seems adrift these days. Yes, it goes through the paces of what was once its normal life, scratching its back upon a fir tree, flopping into the pond to briefly escape stifling mid-day heat—but it does so without enthusiasm, as if by rote more than desire. A post put up by a South African friend of mine on Facebook, railing at her current circumstances, could just as easily have been written by the bear. Here it is: 

“I think that perhaps, finally, I am losing it. What is ‘it’ you may ask? Well it has something to do with the brain, with expectations, with disappointments and with a gross suppression of anything that made our life what it was. I am without enthusiasm, hanging on to a modicum of humour and too many times in a day think ‘WTF.’ I suspect about half the world's population feels similarly, but that doesn't help. What to do. What to do. I'm confused. I'm sad. I'm fed up and yes, I'm thoroughly pissed off. At something I can't see!”

GROWL.

I’m starting from an indisputable medical premise: Covid-19 is a highly contagious, multi-organ destructive virus unlike any medical science has ever known, with long term risks to those exposed who survive that are still not understood.  That reality has hundreds of millions in our world wandering around muttering to themselves Laurence Olivier’s famous line from the film Marathon Man, “Is it safe?”

 As I’d feared in earlier chronicles, the US and several other nations (notably Brazil) have politicized public health issues, muzzled respected healthcare professionals, and jettisoned sound scientific advice in pursuit of selfish political agendas.  But enough about the US and its sorry state of affairs.  Nothing is likely to change for the better there in the foreseeable future.

What I wonder is how Greece will fare now that it’s out of strict lockup and welcoming back tourists. Of course, there are still rules and restrictions to follow, and categories of tourists (e.g., Americans) barred from entering Greece (or the EU), but Greeks are understandably desperate to do business. Financially, 2020 will undoubtedly be depressing…following a decade of the same.

Greece faces a momentous month ahead, entering into the very heart of tourist season.  At risk is its battle-tested reputation as a worldwide leader in successfully confronting Covid-19. The question is, how much of its newly gilded international stature is the nation willing to risk sacrificing in order to meet increasing domestic pressure from its distraught summertime tourism industry?

What is needed is a vision that will serve the nation best in the long run.  I don’t have one. I write fiction.

What I do know is that in the hard-partying tourist parts of Greece (and no place knows how to throw a better party than Greece) it’s hard to imagine social distancing and face covering efforts succeeding without uniform strict enforcement. The US certainly hasn’t been successful on that score. And it’s paying the price.

Friends tell me that some islands are reminiscent of the 70s and early 80s, sparse crowds, umbrella-less beaches, more intimate experiences.  Some see that as a sign of a new dawn.

But let’s be real.  There’s no going back to the 70, 80s, 90s, 00s or even 10s.  Greece is a tourist goldmine, with monied interests having established a massive presence offering every facility and service one can imagine for those willing to pay to be part of it all. 

At issue in 2020 is whether Greece will emerge from the year with its reputation intact as a place where tourists and locals value one another, and the health of all is paramount. What will keep tourists flocking back is a sense that in Greece they’re safe, amidst a world seeming less so every day.

So far, the international media has largely showered praise upon Greece for how well it’s handled the pandemic, barely touching upon other matters facing the nation. But the media is fickle, and if things should turn around, so will the news coverage. Determination, faith in science, and broad national pride has rightly elevated Greece’s position in the world, but along with that inevitably comes the unwelcome companion role of target for those poised to pounce on a fall.

I’m rooting for Greece.  So’s the bear; it knows what it means to be a target. 

–Jeff

Awash in Uncertainty

Jeff––Saturday

Ten days ago, Athens Insider Magazine published my second Corona Chronicles column, titling it, “Awash in Uncertainty,” and in its introduction wrote, “The emotions that run through this column starkly contrast with the hope he expresses in his first corona column [published one month earlier].”

Had I written that column today, the contrast would be even starker.  The consequences of politics trumping science in a public health crisis are now coming home to roost, most vividly so (for the moment) in Brazil.  Heaven help us what the world may be facing when my next column is due.  

So, let’s take a look at how I saw the world just ten days ago.

Welcome to the second monthly installment of my chronicle of living through pandemic times, as told from the perspective of an American mystery writer who’s called Greece home for 35 years.

My wife and I remain in lockdown mode at our rural New Jersey farm, close by America’s Greater New York City coronavirus epicenter; our plans at returning to Greece put on indeterminate hold by the risks and vagaries of long international flights out of NYC area airports.

A lot has changed in the month since my last column. The bear I mentioned back then as the bane of my trashcan’s existence, now often takes a lazy mid-afternoon dip in my pond. He follows it up with a visit to his favorite telephone pole for a bit of claw sharpening, and a leisurely back-scratch up against his roughed up handiwork, before wandering off through the pasture, leaving me alone to contemplate more mundane matters, such as the state of our Covid-19 plagued world.

The big guy brought along a buddy for this visit.

As I said, much has changed in a month.  Back then I wrote of how nations had discovered new heroes in public health professionals valiantly leading their nations’ non-partisan efforts to keep all citizens safe.  Today, some of those same champions are taking fire from government leaders seeking to politically profit off pandering to the justly impatient and worried among us, through orchestrated partisan attacks aimed at discrediting the character, competence, and motives of those same heroes and the heralded institutions they represent.

That’s not to suggest the economic pain isn’t real. We’re facing catastrophic worldwide economic meltdown. No one knows that better than Greece, and yet it’s managed to put science and compassion first, setting examples of courage and resilience for the world.

I doubt you’ll find many on our planet not anxious to return to the lives they once knew.  We’re all desperate to restore at least a semblance of face-to-face human interaction, and to resurrect our jobs, businesses and professional careers. The numbers of the newly unemployed are staggering. But, so too, are the ever-mounting totals of Covid-19 infections…and deaths.

Those numbers are of a magnitude vast enough to bring to mind the import of a quote attributed to Joseph Stalin. “The death of one person is a tragedy. The death of millions is a statistic.”

Do you recall your anxiety when the first case of the virus reached your country?  Or when you learned of your nation’s first death? Today, in the lands hardest hit, I’d venture to say if you asked most to guess the number of their country’s infections, they’d be off by tens of thousands, and for deaths by thousands.

People just want “it” to be over, and will grasp at the weakest of proffered straws promising a speedy end to their taxing societal and economic confinement.

This past week, many nations began re-opening their economies, some driven by science, some by politics, and some by a mix of both. Perhaps by my next chronicle entry, we’ll have a better idea of which leaders made the prudent choice, and which faltered—hopefully none badly.

On the other side of the ledger, one might think these times are providing terrific fodder for the artist and the writer, for we’re living through what will undoubtedly define the balance of our lives.  Our planet is at war, simultaneously battling the identical existential threat in every household, every family, and every nation. It is a universally shared crisis of epic proportion, with individual heroism and altruism revealing the very best of the human soul, and callous indifference and opportunism laying bare its very worst.

Just think of all the masterful novels, epic paintings, and transporting musical compositions this must inspire.

To be honest, it’s all just too damn draining to concentrate. 

We’re awash in uncertainty and nebulous distractions from the essence of the lives we’re accustomed to leading. Focus is gone.

Yes, undoubtedly that shall pass, and I expect a plethora of pandemic inspired works to be out there, whether or not the market is ready.

But for the moment, we writers are learning to cope with a world without in-person book appearances, festivals, conferences, or even casual interactions.  Virtual events just aren’t the same.  They take getting used to, like everything else these days.

For those who think writing is meant to be a lonely experience, and therefore isolation’s not that big a deal, they’d be wrong. It’s a solitary experience. Most writers love to interact with fans and colleagues, and miss that personal interplay as much as many miss time spent with their buddies. Sure, over time we’ll learn to compensate, and even fit the experiences into our work. But for now, it’s frustrating.

After all, we’re in this together, because we like being together.  We need and desire companionship, and the occasional bear in the pasture doesn’t cut it. Even though he’s not a bad chap.

—Jeff