The chickens are coming home to roost at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Denial, obfuscation, contrary statements, perverted “scientific” cures, a falsely rosy portrait of US response to a global pandemic, a call to salvage Big Business rather than its itty-bitty workers — none of these vocalizations from the president’s daily briefings has slowed the attack of novel coronavirus, which on Mother’s Day headlines snuck into the White House itself.
A military valet (essentially a uniformed waiter) has been off duty for a few days, followed by a press aide to the vice president. Three top members of the Coronavirus Task Force (which the prez hoped to disband last week until he learned it was “popular”), are self-quarantining. All three are medical doctors, scheduled to appear before a Senate committee Monday, May 11. Like the committee chairman, who is likewise quarantined, they will participate from home via video. One White House employee stated it is “scary” to go to work.
The administration models the opposite of its own advice — wearing masks is not politically correct for sycophants who serve at the president’s whim, or honest persons who hope to moderate his wilder claims.
If the White House becomes a “super spreader” locale, why would anyone with common sense believe they belong in a tanning booth, nail salon, barber shop or cafe to “reopen America?” Just because certain facilities will be allowed to open under new guidelines doesn’t mean they must, nor does it mean that people will patronize them.
In our house reside three persons over 60, one of whom is 88. She must be brought once, sometimes twice a week to outpatient services at Mercy Hospital Berryville to treat a stubborn infection. It is a harrowing experience, to put on our homemade masks, get our temperatures taken, roll through the quiet halls for her treatment.
Most of our other ventures away from home are relatively safe — the doors to the post office are open, the libraries offer non-contact curbside service. I don the mask at hardware and grocery stores, and we immediately disinfect all items brought through our front door. What a relief to get these errands done!
We all got our $1200 checks, personally signed by the royal bleach-master hisself, a rough equivalent of an extra month’s social security check each. How to spend? We are not going out to eat. Concert venues are closed; tickets to theater events in Fayetteville were postponed or cancelled.
Since it is spring, we have home and garden improvement projects. We had to repair or replace some tools, and we prefer to use locally owned businesses; for jobs we can’t handle we employ local contractors, who obviously need the money.
A gentleman who does yard work at my mother-in-law’s place deserves a bonus. The farmers’ markets are getting geared up and the dual benefits are fresh organic produce for us and income for the beleaguered farmers.
Then there are charities. Our daughter is one of the volunteers for the Eureka Springs Methodist Church’s campaign to bring food to shut-ins — that is a worthy cause. There are several food banks serving Carroll County, which always need financial aid.
Last year I was invited to join the Friends of the Berryville Library Board, because I had assembled a group of local musicians (we called ourselves The Bookworms, a string band with horns) to play for their fundraising events. The fundraiser won’t happen this summer, but I can still send them a check. It’s probably a good idea to buy CDs from local bands, who can only perform from their living rooms with a video camera.
My idea is to keep as much of this stimulus money within our community as we can. My wife the bookkeeper already has automatic bank drafts for other charities (KUAF, Doctors Without Borders, The (Jimmy) Carter Center.)
We won’t order stuff from Amazon or a flatscreen TV as big as pool table.
I am not posing as a holier-than-thou guy. If you get the $1200 bonus, and you don’t need to pay rent or buy groceries, keep some as a windfall, and try to spread the rest around here.