9,000

It’s been six months since I first heard of COVID-19. As was my ritual, I’d watch the evening news each night before heading to slumber and noted reports of a new, mysterious coronavirus identified in Wuhan, China. I didn’t pay it much attention, continuing to plan and book a holiday to Newfoundland that, in an alternate universe, I would soon be taking. Within a few weeks though, the tone and urgency of messaging changed and I understood the ramifications of human ignorance as cruise ships were left stranded at sea without port and countries called upon their military to help with the sheer volume of the dead.

Just six months later, updated daily death counts on the same newscast are normalized. It’s a strange detail to a strange reality. Even stranger is how little people seem affected by it. Whether through deliberate avoidance or willful denial, a large portion of the population doesn’t appear to be humbled by mass death. Meanwhile, I’m low-key drafting my will. I often wonder how this will be processed and reflected upon in the decades to come. I feel a major part of the discussion and dissertation will revolve around society’s dependency on the structures of capitalism rather than community and our subsequent increasing separation from the natural world.

As of this writing, there are just shy of 9,000 lives lost to COVID-19 in Canada (679,000+ worldwide). Those are nine-thousand people who have family and other loved ones mourning their loss. Nine-thousand individual stories of life that go beyond being a number on a counter. And that nine-thousand statistic includes people of all ages and socio-economic backgrounds. No one is immune. We don’t hear much of this. Of the plans, hopes and dreams cut short. A lot of what we see has been dehumanized by design, for detachment and convenience, but I personally feel it’s important to remember. Being thoughtful towards others, as well as mindful of your own mortality and the fragility of existence, is essential in times such as these. Empathy is a balm.

I’ve been thinking of my father a lot of late. In some ways, the world since his passing would be unrecognizable to him. In other ways, it would be similar in ways only he could truly understand. In his final months, one of my father’s favourite places to visit was IKEA because they had wheelchairs at the entrance available for those who might require them. Not those giant motorized scooters that seniors use to blaze down the aisles of Wal-Mart, but an actual wheelchair that would allow his daughter to walk with him in normal pace while window-shopping couches and bookshelves. While being pushed around an endless maze disguised as a furniture store doesn’t sound like a great time, this respite from cancer treatments and feeling part of society again, no matter how banal, was greatly welcomed. Most businesses and other public places did not make this consideration. Spending time with someone immunocompromised made me realize first-hand how little we, as a society, take into account the needs–physical, mental and emotional–of those with varying health conditions.

Which leads me to current recommendations by health officials to wear a mask in public spaces to help limit the spread of COVID-19 (and the unfortunate resistance of some that it is in violation of their “freedom”, as though one man’s rebellion to wear a small piece of fabric on his face is equivalent to the entire life and worth of someone else). It’s a simple measure that would help people like my father feel recognized, regarded and safe while trying to live during a time when added stress and uncertainty should be minimized. But it is also a small measure to help others as part of your community. Because any one of us may become part of the 9,000.

Places to Daydream About: Churchill, Canada

Even though Covid-19 has changed the world for the foreseeable future, it has not diminished my love of adventure or desire to learn about—and hopefully visit—every corner of this wonderful planet we inhabit. There’s something about the ritual of travel, even certain stresses of it, that soothes me. For my previous excursions, I would spend upwards of almost a year researching a destination and planning the perfect itinerary. In the meantime though, I’ve been focusing on places to daydream about. Places that have captured my imagination in one way or another that are, thanks to Google Streetview, easy to explore from the comfort of one’s couch.

At the top of my virtual bucket list is a place in my home province that I have sadly not had the opportunity to visit yet - Churchill, Manitoba. Located on Hudson Bay and founded on the traditional territories of the Dene and Cree people, Churchill’s settler history is rooted in the establishment of the fur trade. Tourism now helps fuel economic development as the township has branded itself the “polar bear capital of the world”. The vulnerable species treks through civic limits as part of their annual migration. Regular alerts are issued upon sightings; a holding facility contains wayward bears until they can be safely released back into the wild.

Churchill’s tundra landscape offers welcome (or perhaps warning) to the great arctic beyond:

Churchill, Manitoba (©Google)

Churchill, Manitoba (©Google)

Praise and Pedestal

A few nights ago, I again had a dream that I was being chased by a dinosaur. This isn’t the first time a t-rex has stalked my slumber, it is actually a recurring dream of mine dating back to childhood that I’ve since grown to anticipate because it’s positively thrilling. In my latest nocturnal vision, the beast’s body was covered in red scales ranging from crimson to burgundy. In comparison to its sheer size and girth, my body was proportionate in scale to a mosquito. Despite this disadvantage, I didn’t run from it. I didn’t retreat. I stood and fought with the might of an army.

Dreams often don’t make sense but sometimes neither does reality.

Life was never easy but there was always the illusion of normalcy that we could naively count on for its moments of relative monotony. Over the past several months, the world lost the comfort that predictability offered. Our new normal is physically distancing, staying at home, adjusting expectations and expecting safety in the smallest of measures. But that seems to matter only to a portion of the population. Increasingly, in the span of mere weeks, a boisterous group is measuring the worth of others for how useful they are towards the machinations of capitalism and willing to sacrifice those in their community as needed to maintain their own comfort. It’s disturbing to watch unfold in real life, in real time. The veil of fellowship is opaque.

Examples of this on the North American continent include the following:

The Mayor of Las Vegas recently conducted an interview where she admitted to offering her city as a “control group” for Covid-19 because casinos were suffering. She was denied from doing so by experts.

Then the President of the United States made the erroneous suggestion that injecting bleach and other disinfectants directly into the body could possibly clean out the virus in minutes. He later stated it was an off-hand remark meant to test reporters and journalists. The continued irresponsible and downright idiotic behaviour of the leader of the most powerful nation on earth is literally a threat to all humanity. All in the name of business. All in the name of keeping dividends flowing and supporters pacified.

And just this week, gun-toting protesters stormed Michigan’s Capital building to demand an end to the stay-at-home order. People are going to die anyway is the common refrain. What they don’t publicly say is “as long as it’s not me”.

In this regard, the United States is far more a wild west shitshow than Canada. For the most part, the response of our elected leaders has been reasoned. But we do have our moments.

“We are fighting against a federal program that is actually paying people to stay out of the workforce right now. I don't like the fact that that is real, but that is real. People are being paid to stay home and not work."

The Premiere of my home province recently had choice words against federal financial support programs to help workers affected by Covid-19. His statement failed to account for the number of people laid off or with hours reduced so drastically they won’t be able to pay their bills through no fault of their own and disingenuously absolves his government of further aid for citizens which is something governments are elected to do in times of crisis. Not surprisingly, he also didn’t reflect on the responsibility of business owners to implement safety measures in the work environment. The ability to do one’s job from home is not a solution for every industry. Since PPE sourcing is still difficult to acquire and without guarantees that employers can meet basic recommended measures to help slow the spread of the virus, employees should have a choice on whether they wish to work in conditions that can potentially become a matter of life or death. That isn’t laziness or cheating the system, which is what the Premiere implied. It’s a valid concern currently expressed by front-line and essential workers, never mind everyone else that will eventually be impacted. Attempting to continue on as normal in a situation that is unprecedented with risk can be a dangerous endeavour.

We all contribute a part in building a nation.

But we also all have a role in building community.

Our “new normal” is probably going to be here for awhile. It may not make sense right now but it is our reality.

We should aim to assist those most vulnerable, not degrade their existence.

We need to adapt to nature, not the stock market.

We should praise and pedestal those who truly deserve it.

A New Normal

It is stated that every generation has their defining moment. An historical event that challenges the status quo and changes everything. I sit on the cusp of being either a millennial or generation-X—the markers seem to shift as social commentators and other pundits seek to stereotype those with behavioural habits askew from their own perceived norms. Wherever I may fall, during my lifetime I have lived through the collapse of the U.S.S.R. (and subsequent rise of Putin), 9/11, several, seemingly endless wars in the Middle East, the normalization of mass shootings, unchecked capitalism, the invention of the internet and true globalization.

All of these things will have a reverberatory effect for decades to come.

But the unprecedented events of the past month will, perhaps, exceed them.

I’ve wanted to write and document about this time for the past few weeks but just couldn’t muster the energy. The weight of the news—of daily headlines that announce death on a scale not seen outside of war, of an enemy you can’t predict or protect from—bore on my mind and body to the point of daily migraines and body aches. As some touted this as a great time to get projects completed that may have once been cast aside, my personal productivity was low. Thankfully still employed, my normal work was the only thing I wanted to use brainpower for. Outside of that, it’s been binging Tiger King and reading Choose Your Own Adventure books from my childhood. Just enough ludicrous fantasy to distract from the dismal realities of COVID-19.

Added to this is the stress of having no siblings and trying to care for an elderly, widowed parent while living a thousand kilometres away. Never mind the great toilet paper shortage of 2020, it’s been a challenge getting basic pantry necessities for my mother. Rice is increasingly a rare luxury. Even a box of Kraft Dinner now has a street value in excess of its worth. Personally I’m mostly missing fresh garlic, a staple of my cooking that I haven’t seen in weeks.

My last visit to a grocery store was surreal. A guard stood at the front entrance of Safeway watching over a line twenty deep waiting patiently, six feet apart, to get in for supplies. Upon entry, all shoppers were required to either wash their hands at a newly installed station or use disinfectant prior to having a cart handed to them by a gloved employee. Throughout the aisles, bright orange arrows on the ground directed shoppers around the store to aid social distancing (although a few ignored these measures and I was surprised at how quickly I felt anxiety to being close to another human being). Never before had I realized - and longed for - the simple pleasure of loitering. Pasta, canned soup and frozen vegetables were scarce. We are often reminded that supply chains are working but sights like this seem to incite hoarders to buy more as product comes in to the point where little is left for others. I predict there are a lot of peanut butter sandwiches in my near future.

I celebrated my fourtieth birthday a few days ago. My partner and I stayed inside and made a chocolate cake with whatever ingredients we had on-hand. It was delicious and rich and memorable for a number of reasons, not least of which was watching someone bake for the first time. I am very thankful to have a “quarantine” buddy.

Thoughts of my mother still weighed on my mind though. Normally, I would be in my hometown in early Spring visiting with her and my beloved dog Monty (who is her own quarantine buddy now). Being with a loved one, tangibly connecting with their presence, is such an important part of the human experience and I fear the wave of mental health issues that loom as we all navigate through this time. Moreso than any other aspect of this contagion, hearing about people who don’t get to say goodbye or pay proper respects to their lost loved ones saddens me the most. There’s a pain there that will never go away.

On April 1, I phoned my mother and she played an April Fools joke me, as is tradition within the Clague household. It was unexpected this year and her howling laughter at pulling a fast one on me filled my soul with a warmth that I hadn’t felt in weeks. Some aspects of life have remained the same.