Life's a Beach

Newport Beach, CA - 4/26/20

Some of the self-appointed, emperor-style governors in the U.S. are going to start having their royal hands full as the spring weather warms and brightens cities and towns across the country. For example, California's Gov. Gavin Newsom has decreed that citations be issued to surfers and swimmers enjoying the beach.

Good luck with that, Governor. You're about to be confronted with a burgeoning forest of middle fingers. (And don't sunshine and high temperatures kill the virus, anyway? Never mind...)

If the weekend is a sunny 88 degrees in Southern California, the beaches are going to be full. If Newsom can't get his head around that, he shouldn't be governor. Generally speaking, Americans just don't take kindly to being bossed around. More specifically, Californians are not ones to be separated from their swimsuits and surfboards.

Allow me to illustrate my point with a hypothetical comparison. If a totalitarian Communist regime tells beach lovers they are not allowed to swim or surf, immediately they will stay miles away from any beach and either destroy their swimwear or bury it in the basement. If a tightly regulated socialist society tells beach goers to stay home, they will obediently put their beach gear in the closet and docilely wait for the government to make an official announcement that the beach is once again accessible before they venture towards the beach.

In America, when you tell people they can't go to the beach, can you guess the very first thing they're going to do? Oh, yes--in massive droves, they are going to the beach! Even if they hadn't been planning to go there, even if they don't like the beach, they are going to the beach. And they will stay there the entire day, from sunrise to sunset. Law enforcement personnel will run out of paper in their citation pads before they can ticket every person enjoying the beach. I'm not saying it's right; it's just how Americans roll--especially during a SoCal heat wave.

Of course, I understand that the governor's taste of autocratic power over the past month or so has probably been intoxicating. It must be a wildly exciting ride to be dictating the every movement (or lack of same) of all state citizens. But if the heat stays up, be prepared for a continuing beach-goer rebellion. Hang ten, Governor.

Earth Day, Again

Today is the 50th anniversary of Earth Day. Although the constant lamentations and dire warnings about the destruction of the planet have increased exponentially over the past half century, apparently we've survived. 

For the moment, at least, the overwrought climate change narrative will be taking a backseat to the chaos caused by the CV-19 pandemic. As the old song says, "the beat goes on."

The Past Plague

In an effort to maintain a sense of historical perspective about our current dilemma, I'm reading The Great Influenza by John M. Barry. It's a detailed history of the 1918-1920 influenza pandemic, and it's terrifying.

While COVID-19 is widespread, serious and deadly enough, it does not approach the ferocity of the "Spanish Flu" pandemic of a century ago. It was wartime, and unsuspecting infected troops were being shipped all over the country and the world, spreading the virus with lightning speed. The graphic descriptions of the sudden onset of violent symptoms, the terrible damage done to the human body within hours, and the quick and tormented deaths of the victims in massive numbers are the stuff of real-life horror.

Equally grisly is the recounting of dead bodies mounting up in streets and homes. In Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, this problem was especially acute. Against the advice of medical experts, a scheduled parade was allowed to proceed. The throngs of unsuspecting marchers and attendees spread the virus throughout the city at an astronomical rate. Patients were dying too quickly, and too many others in the infrastructure of sickness and death--medical staff, first responders, undertakers, gravediggers--were also falling ill and dying fast. There was no one left to process the dead; if there were, they were afraid to go near any place of what was often called "plague".

Pinpointing an exact death toll for the Spanish Flu is impossible, but it's generally estimated that 500 million people--one-third of the world's population at the time--were infected, and 50 million people died worldwide, including 675,000 Americans. These are staggering numbers in any era.

Reading The Great Influenza makes hand-washing seem life saving (it is), stay-at-home quarantines more bearable, and "social distancing" more sensible. I thought it would take me months to read this book, but after ten days I'm more than halfway through it. It's frustrating to see the many avoidable errors made that allowed the virus to spread so far, so fast. Yet it's good to know we've learned so much since the last century's pandemic. As the numbers show, we're lucky to be alive and fighting the flu in our own modern time.

Easter Sunday

"This is the day the Lord has made..."

Once Upon A Century

…there's never a wish better than this
When you only got a hundred years to live

~ John Ondrasik

My Mother ~ 1945

This weekend my mother will turn 100 years old. It's family lore that, while the doctor dated the paperwork April 3, my grandmother was adamant that Mom was born in the first hour of April 4, 1920. I believe my grandmother, but it's hard to argue with a birth certificate.

Whichever birthdate we choose, this is an occasion to celebrate. My family planned to do so, before "the virus" took over all of our lives. Now things seem frozen in place for an indeterminable time. Instead of being in New York with my mother on her centennial, I'm penned up at home in California. Before I can begin to wallow, I remind myself what Mom would probably say to me, if she could: "Stop feeling sorry for yourself." End of discussion.

My mother is in the comfortable twilight of dementia, and for her it's a livable place. There is no grief in her life; the people she loved in her younger years, all of whom are long dead, live again in her mind. She seems to be caught in a 1940s time warp. Those were very good years for her, what she would call her "heyday." I'm glad she settled mentally into that decade.

To think of the history my mother's lifetime has encompassed is breathtaking. Woodrow Wilson was in office when she was born, so she has lived through 18 presidents. She's also seen nine popes and five United States wars. She was a seven-year-old girl when Charles Lindbergh made the first trans-Atlantic flight. She lived her entire teenage years during the Great Depression, and had just come of age the year Pearl Harbor was attacked. My mother was alive at the dawn of radio, on through television, computers, the internet, and the smart phone. She's been in at least two dozen of the United States and fifteen foreign countries. But the historical fact of her life that captivates me most right now is that she was born near the end of the 1918-1920 "Spanish flu" pandemic.

The Spanish flu officially ended in December 1920, when my mother was an eight-month-old infant. COVID-19 is my mother's second global pandemic. Today she is a petite and fragile woman in a wheelchair, once again unaware of the plague that is passing through the world.

Once in a hundred years, you might find someone as remarkably strong, enduring, and inspiring as my mother. But don't bet on it. Happy 100th birthday, Mom. Thanks for teaching me how to survive any hardship life throws my way. That lesson is coming in handy these days.