Many people were caught by the Corona-V crisis away from their homes. We all have witnessed the stories of those on ocean cruises; how a special vacation could become a prison sentence, with a paainful illness and even death.
Others were traveling on business or pleasure, including to China, where the new strain of coronavirus was first detected. College students were traveling to beaches for spring break, wearing bikinis and flip-flops.
World leaders were doing what they always do -- meeting with each other to discuss weighty matters. Some of them became ill as a result.
Families did what families do -- get together to celebrate birthdays and other special occasions. In my particular case, two of my sisters had planned to travel here to the San Francisco Bay Area and spend today with me. I had thought we might share a meal at the old Millbrae Pancake House.
But everyne's plans unraveled. They had to be cast aside like clothes that no longer fit or relationships that have run their course.
People differ dramatically in their ability to manage the experience of staying inside. My concern and sympathy goes to those who simply cannot tolerate staying at home. They yearn for the fresh air, to escape this damned confinement, which feels claustrophobic to them.
Others actually like staying inside their homes. It's cozy and comforting. These are the people who thrive baking bread and preparing elaborate meals, sewing, knitting, watching old movies, reading books, playing cards and boardgames, drawing, painting, singing, dancing, and story-telling, among other domesticities.
But even these lucky people are feeling the strain that develops when every day feels the same as the one before. I cannot tell you how many people have told me they are losing track of which day of the week it is, what date this is, whether yesterday or tomorrow are in any way different from each other.
When I inquire, most of these folks tell me they have no new news. Of course, in this situation, no news can be good news.
Now I am a newsperson, and have been for 54 years and three months. But who's counting? Once you work in my business long enough, the blood in your veins flows differently, your ears perk at different prompts. Where others see an interplay of light and shadow you begin to see the outline of what may be a new pattern
My formula for students: "News = New."
Without even being conscious of it, you begin forming a hypothesis that might explain the pattern you are perceiving. For you, the hunt for the truth has begun.
It disturbs me that some 30 percent of the American people believe COVAD-19 was probably created in a lab. There is no evidence for that, but it reflects the tendency of too many people to embrace conspiratorial thinking instead of logic and science.
These people are susceptible to those who would exploit their fears. So this is a moment to pay special attention to what would-be demagogues are doing. First, they personalize a crisis, as if it were all about them, and they fire those who disagree. Next, they lash out at the press. Why us? Because we are the ones required to set the record straight for you, our fellow citizens. That is our job.
It's up to us because almost nobody else wants to do such thankless work. But my colleagues in the media are rising to meet this moment head-on. They aren't being intimidated by threats and insults. Day by day, they follow the shifting contours of the patterns, turning and twisting their way toward the truth.
And what is that truth? I've suggested my personal theory. A shift in the global temperature of a few degrees Celsius might cause a long-dormant virus to mutate and migrate from one species to another. What in the past was benign now is becoming lethal.
In my role as a journalist, I have met many, many people. One of those in recent years was the billionaire Tom Steyer, who failed in his quest for the Democratic Party's nomination for President. Steyer is an adamant proponent of organizing his fellow citizens to combat climate change before it is too late.
That, of course, presumes it isn't already too late.
I remember the first time I met Steyer -- I greeted him as I did most guests arriving to appear on KQED's weekly news show, Newsroom, in my role as the executive supervising the production of that show. After we had filmed his segment, Steyer and I stood in the atrium of KQED, discussing climate change for an extended period.
As we talked, I couldn't help thinking to myself, "This guy's a billionaire. He can do anything he wants. He could be lying out in the sun on an impossibly large yacht, eating bon-bone and sipping the very best champagne.
"Instead he is trying to organize people around climate change."
***
Over the past year, I've stayed in almost as many places as during the previous 72. It's hazy now, but those places included at least four hospitals (including several ICUs), four skilled nursing facilities, one assisted living unit, a city flat and my daughter's house, where I am staying now.
As I moved around place to place, I carried my few, increasingly ragged possessions in shopping bags, because I'd long since given away my travel bags. I relearned how to walk four times. My new friends included physical therapists, occupational therapists, social workers, nurses, doctors, neurologists, psychiatrists, CNAs, EMTs, volunteers and fellow patients caught up in the American health care system.
At some point during that journey I came to believe that it was unlikely I would make it out alive.
But I did. Every single night of the past 366 yielded a new day. In this way, I am blessed.
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