Escape Plans

 "My fortune told me I'm on the wrong road

"Well life's a game, yeah I need the cheat codes

And I hate the snow

But I think I'll dye my hair and I'll move to Alaska.

Last couple of months kinda been a disaster

Tell all my friends I'm asleep if they ask ya

Sorry I had to move to Alaska."

- From lyrics to "Alaska" by Little Hurt

It's been faintly apocalyptic out here in Colorado over the past week in a state besieged by fires and the resulting smoky haze which renders sunrises and sunsets spectacular but prohibits comfortable outdoor breathing. Worries over the safety of firefighters and displaced people leads to worries about the coronavirus in crowded shelters. California has over 300 fires burning and I read their authorities have asked the entire population of the state to be ready to evacuate. The entire state? Where would they go?

Everywhere I look people are designing escape plans for themselves and their families. We made one with our college sophomore daughter, whose backup plan is our basement. She's now moved into her apartment in Boulder, meeting with friends and trying to navigate an impossible line between being social and being safe. She got her two free masks from CU and is planning a meeting with her two roommates to discuss their rules around visitors.

Can you hang out in a friend's open garage without a mask and still be allowed in your boyfriend's rental house the next day? How many unmasked friends do you allow in your own apartment? Somewhere between zero and five people, perhaps? If the answer is none, it's a lonely existence in the heat of summer or the cold of winter. But fear creeps in. CU Boulder has already had 11 positive tests for COVID-19 among the first-years moving in. Colorado College, down the road in Colorado Springs, has had to quarantine 155 young people due to the erratic actions of one individual who tested positive and exposed most of the dorm. It's been over 93 degrees here for ten days and next week holds more of the same; not a fun time to be quarantined in an apartment or dorm without air conditioning.

I heard Little Hurt's song, "Alaska," on the radio this week and grabbed on to it for a hot minute, formulating my own escape plan. "Yes," I thought, "let's move to Alaska."  Previously I had my hopes set on New Zealand, but they don't want us and are now fighting a new outbreak of the virus, so perhaps Alaska instead?  Shortly after fixing on my new and entirely unrealistic design (I have seasonal affectedness disorder and could never stand the dark of an Alaskan winter), I heard that our current administration plans to drill in the Arctic. There goes another paradise.

It didn't help my mood that William hung out with friends last Friday and found out the next day that one of his buddies had a 103-degree temperature. The friend's fever and aches lasted all weekend and while we waited for the results of his COVID test William quarantined to his room over the garage. It's a big room, so not a bad escape, except that it doesn't have its own bathroom. We got to see William only briefly as he stealth "shopped" in the kitchen with a mask on or dined with us on the porch at a healthy distance.  Thank goodness the test came back negative, and William got to go to his first day of senior year, but the worry takes a toll.

And yet, a few moments of joy highlighted the week. Daniel's first day of freshman year went smoothly, and he's already completed his algebra homework for the week. William got to swim in a small competition last night and did well - and I got called in as a volunteer so I watched him swim his 100 fly and 200 IM - a joy for me. The speeches at the Democratic Convention have been good, though sobering, and I finally have time to write some letters to get out the vote. I am grasping at one thread after another these days, feeling my way forward by the Braille of hope, moving not toward Alaska or New Zealand but to some future where we won't all need an escape plan.

I Can Handle the Truth

"Beauty is truth, truth beauty, that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
- John Keats, "Ode on a Grecian Urn"

LTJG Kaffee: "I want the truth!"
 Col Jessep: "You can't handle the truth!"
- Dialog from "A Few Good Men" (1992)

Since my last blog questioning whether or not we should send our kids back to school, several things have happened. Los Angeles and San Diego Unified School Districts announced that - due to "skyrocketing infection rates" in California - they would not resume school in person.  Their statement said (in part): "Those countries that have managed to safely reopen schools have done so with declining infection rates and on-demand testing available. California has neither." (EdSource)

Later that same day, LA county public health officials left open the possibility that some schools and districts within the county could reopen, if they followed new guidance. Safety protocols would require social distancing and face coverings.

Meanwhile, down the road in Orange County, the OC school board voted 4-1 to approve a return to school for all students. In its guidance, it advised against masks and social distancing, saying that mask requirements are not based on science.  In response to that edict, the largest districts in Orange County, including Santa Ana and Irvine Unified, stated that they will not comply with the school board's vote and will start the year online.

My head is spinning.

What is the truth? Medical experts now say that wearing a face mask is essential to stop the spread of the virus. On July 14, the LA Times wrote "Masks offer much more protection against coronavirus than many think" (masks lower exposure). Not only do they help protect others from your emissions and droplets, but they protect you from others, reducing your viral load even if you are exposed to an infection.

Increasingly, politicians of every stripe are encouraging mask-wearing, mostly to keep our economy intact. Without masks, the virus will rampage through the population like it is currently doing in Arizona, Florida, Texas and California. If we had all started wearing masks in March or April, schools might safely open now.

Though the numbers of cases, hospitalizations and deaths in the above-mentioned states are horrifying, at least we currently know the truth about their situations. Soon we may be entirely in the dark. Our federal government has ordered hospitals to send virus information to the Department of Health and Human Services instead of the CDC.  CNN says "the move could make data less transparent to the public at a time when the administration is downplaying the spread of the pandemic, and threatens to undermine public confidence that medical data is being presented free of political interference" (CNN Data). Gee, whiz, you think?

We can - and we must - handle the truth.  Our country is in trouble. Face masks are one of the only tools we have against the spread of the coronavirus and must be worn if we are to avoid long-term, complete shutdowns. Even with masks, teachers and students should not be asked to heroically throw themselves into the breach created by our ineffective and immoral federal government.

As Farhad Manjoo writes in the NYTimes, "parents and teachers would be wise to reject any invitation to unnecessary heroism. I don't want educating my kids to be a heroic act of American defiance -- I want it to be ordinary. And I'd rather not sacrifice my children's teachers, either, so that America's economy can begin humming once more" (Times, Manjoo).

If only we had a few good men and women at the top who could help us. Given the woefully inadequate supply of these leaders and the avoidance of truth at the highest levels of government, it is up to all of us to uncover the facts, determine how to living safely in accordance with them, and refuse to believe those who lie.  Follow the truth and it will (please, God) set us free and keep us safe.