Day 5

We have been on lockdown here in the San Francisco Bay Area for five days. That sounds like the beginning of a story about the Donner Party. Meg and I were in Truckee just last week, so the Donner Party is on my mind. We haven’t turned to cannibalism yet, but it is hard to get groceries delivered. Still no toilet paper. Now wishing I had saved those cloth diapers from when my kids were babies.

The rest of the state has joined us on lockdown. And New York and Illinois. Most of the country may not be far behind. The rough economic patch that began with the sub-prime loan meltdown became known as the Great Recession. This one may be called the “Great Grinding to a Halt.”

It is very strange to sit in your house all day. We’re not used to that. Who knows when we might turn on each other. “The Shining” comes to Palo Alto.

This is more than Day 5. We’ve all seen it coming and gradually cut back our activities. My last trip into the wild was to pick up something at a store on March 3. Since then it has been nods from six feet. So, by that reckoning, this is Day 17.

We go out for walks, but we walk across the street when we see other walkers coming toward us, or they do. We all smile and wave, but we keep up a steady pace. Ever since I read that the virus hangs in the air for a bit, I have tried to avoid walking behind people, to stay out of their vapor trail. I think of the jets I see going overhead and I imagine a virus contrail.

I don’t have any heartwarming stories of neighbors selflessly helping others. Mostly we are all keeping to ourselves, as we have been ordered to do, and as is sensible. A very few idiots seem to think the rules don’t apply to them, or their gardeners, but by and large, we all seem to be playing ball. We’re trying to flatten the curve so that when we do get sick, as most of us will, there will be ventilators for everyone who needs them.

The alternative of rationing medical care based on some judgment of who should live and who should die doesn’t seem attractive.

We talk by phone to our children, all grown up and far away, and wish we could be there to keep them from being lonely. I suppose we imagine playing games with them like when they were young. Probably their worst nightmare.

We’re all a little stoic, and a little scared.

And we have a long way to go. This is only Day 5 of likely a hundred or more, off and on. I would say that, with all that time on my hands, all my clutter will be organized by the time we come out of this. But probably not. Right now, my mind is more cluttered than my drawers.

Lost in the Jungle, No Compass

It’s too soon to know what to think about what’s happening. It’s all so fast. From vibrant city life to lockdown. From health to sickness. From sanguinity to fear. Also, no toilet paper.

And no jobs. No income. No safety net. It’s going to be brutal, that’s the only thing we can say for sure now.

Perhaps the worst part is that we have no idea how many it will kill or how long it will last. If we succeed in slowing the spread—“flattening the curve”—we will save lives by avoiding overwhelming our healthcare system, but we will also extend the period of sickness and economic paralysis. I’m not saying the cure will be worse than the disease, but it will be bad, and I’m not sure anyone knows just how bad.

Our society is as economically stratified now as I've ever known it. The virus hits all income levels, but the measures to contain it disproportionately afflict the poor. This is going to be very tough on anyone who has been living paycheck-to-paycheck. It’s hard to imagine the consequences to them of this lasting eighteen months, as epidemiologists say may be possible, perhaps likely.

And at a time when we desperately need to decide whom we trust to lead us out of this uncharted wilderness, there is the question of how we can even have an election if we are still on lockdown.