The Loss of our Humanity: the True Threat of COVID-19?

Late in February and early into March, I was beginning to get quite concerned about news of the coronavirus and what threats it might impose.  I cautioned a few of my closest friends that we needed to prepare for it sooner rather than later.  What I was most concerned about was not the virus itself, although admittedly that WAS and still IS a concern, but rather the populace-at-large's REACTION to the threat of the virus.

I quietly and calmly began stocking up on the things I like to have on hand anyway (years of living out in the country and at some distance from grocery stores has trained me to keep our cupboards pretty well-stocked, but a recent desire to 'use up everything' had left us in a bit of a deficit). I loaded up on beans and rice and whole-grain pastas, some canned goods and nuts and seeds.

I had a trip to the nearest Costco planned and that is where I first noticed the changes:  people were moving through the store at a much faster pace.  Gone were the smiles from shoppers' faces, now replaced by furrowed brows and deeply focused eyes flitting from displays to shelves.  Twice my cart was hit by another cart as the shopper was so intent on getting her list complete.

I noted what was in the huge carts that these shoppers were wheeling through the aisles:  some completely full of huge multi-packs of toilet tissue, paper towels and cleaning supplies.  Out of curiousity, I made my way back to the TP aisle and was stunned to see the aisle nearly picked clean.  There were no diapers, no paper towels, no toilet tissue, only a crowding of carts and shoppers staring at the shelves as if, in doing so, TP would magically appear.  I moved on as others did, perhaps all of us sharing the new realization that shit.was.getting.real.

{After I finished my Costco shopping, I zipped into the nearby Aldi and found a decent stocking of TP, not completely full, but with enough and I grabbed a pack knowing that even though we had plenty at home, doubtless my single adult son had not stocked any.  Turned out that I was right.  As of a visit to Aldi's this am, 23 April, their shelves are now bare as was the Meijer's TP aisle and the Kroger's}.

I continued my trips to stores over the next week or so, picking up more of our staple items here and there, more beans, lentils, salsa and noting that much of the 'health food' pasta and things like brown rice noodles, vegan butter and such were still on the shelves.  I picked up a few of those items as well as tofu, which surprisingly was nearly gone!  It was during one of those trips, in early March, that I began to really see it:  the barely contained terror in fellow shoppers' eyes.  This was before the precautions about 'social distancing' came out and the stores were crowded and people were strongly focused on getting their items and getting out.  There were no pleasantries exchanged.  No friendly chats among neighbors as they caught up with each other's day-to-day happenings; all of these bits and pieces of what make us human were gone.

After this store visit, I stayed home for several weeks; 5 weeks I think it was.  I drank daily from the well of continual pandemic news and local political briefings and main-lined podcasts from the BBC and other 'well-trusted' sources in an effort to stay informed.

I recognized my old nemesis fear as it came to settle around me and threatened to engulf me.  I made cloth masks for all of us as newly instructed by the powers-that-be even though just weeks before that, said powers had assured us that these measures were useless and in fact harmful as the wearing of them would cause us to incessantly touch our faces, as if we have no control over our physical being.

When the refrigerator was so empty that even my husband remarked about it, sparking me to open cabinets and assure him we had weeks and weeks of food staples available, I decided it was time to don the mask and go out into the forbidden zone, in search of fresh produce.

Our local stores had just instituted what I fondly refer to as 'old lady hour', a separate hour of shopping at 7 a.m. for those 60 years and up, as well as first responders.  I ventured in on the first day of this new schedule and was happy to see that the store was very open with lots of space between people and  only 30 or so shoppers in a very large store, with a few of them also wearing masks.  I was dismayed to see one shopper in particular in a near panic as she zipped to get around me in an aisle we were coming down at the same time, with terror in her eyes.

I tried in vain to catch and meet the gaze of a few fellow shoppers and spoke a friendly 'good morning!' to some of them.  I was saddened to note than only one or two returned the greeting and one had such a look of shock on his face as if he had never heard such a greeting before but then kindly answered me in a friendly 'good morning' back.

I wanted to scream in the middle of the store:  LET'S NOT LOSE OUR HUMANITY!!!!!

But one can hardly blame these folks, who I figure in their life before this challenge were predominately kind, thoughtful and friendly people.  Media and even well-intentioned reporting of statistics has turned people into life and death threats to each other.  They no longer see a person merely passing by but rather a host for deadly viruses that could spill out and splash onto them like waves from a vat of flesh-devouring acid at any moment.

Shortly after this shopping trip as I 'hunkered down' at home, I did a detox from the podcasts and media, only checking in once a day to our state's governor's site to quickly scan his day's briefing to see if anything new directly affected us.  After only one day of taking these measures, I began to feel much better.  By days 2 and 3, some of my original questions and critical thought regarding the pandemic itself and the world's reaction to it began to resurface.  I felt MUCH better and could then go look at information without the veil of fear clouding everything.

Things have changed quickly as our state has continued it's stay-at-home orders and increased the intensity of precautionary steps that should be taken if any one ventures out.

This morning, while out during 'old-lady-hour', I noted that nearly all shoppers have donned masks and I noted how this deprives us of the visual body language of assessing our fellow humans.  We can no longer see the beginnings of a smile, no longer quickly identify who the person is.  I thought of my early child-psychology training and recalled how vital the image of the human face is to a newborn and to a growing baby.

I fight off the sadness the realization of these things coupled with the psychological assessments of other damages that are going on; I refuse to give in to my nemesis FEAR and its cousin APATHY.

I was thinking these thoughts as I waited for a lady to get done selecting her choice of olives as I eyed the location of my husband's favorite type.  She was unaware of me as she carefully looked over the options (there is no shortage of olives at any store...yet!).  As she completed her selections, she turned toward me for a moment and I felt myself almost look away, having now become conditioned to little to no informal interaction with other people at stores, when I caught it:  The twinkle in her beautiful blue eyes and the crinkling of smiling skin at the corners of these thoughtful eyes.   I crinkled mine up in return and was so grateful for just this tiny exchange and realized, well, no one can see our mouths anymore, but we can still SMILE WITH OUR EYES!

The recognition of each other as kindred spirits, no matter our differences, is one of the key components of our humanity.  Reacting emotionally to others' situations and having a level of empathy is what allows us to enjoy, and react to, movies and other art forms, and lets us build deep friendships and relationships that fill us with much more than food could ever provide.

We are challenged and our health and lives are at stake, but there are dangers every day in every life.

Let's face them but not sacrifice our humanity in doing so and for now, anyway, at least let us smile at each other with our eyes.


Sue, smiling, in Ohio