Coronavirus 1, Toilet Paper 0

Contemplating our predicament with the virus crisis takes me in two directions at once. On the one hand laughter is the best medicine, so I see the humor, and on the other I recognize the coronavirus as a grave threat and take the situation completely seriously. People are dying and our daily lives have altered dramatically because of this wee beastie hopping about in the world. If you think that joking about the coronavirus is in bad taste then read no further. For those of you like myself who vacillate between horror, surprise, and hilarity, then my words are for you. Laughter strengthens the immune system. This is a fact verified by studies published by the NIH and the Mayo Clinic, among other reputable sources. And I ask you, what do you recommend to get us through this debacle if not humor? The federal government ain’t gonna do it. That snake-oil salesman in the White House eliminated the U.S. pandemic response team in 2018 and gutted the CDC budget by 80% so that it had to cut efforts to prevent and prepare for a global pandemic. His only real concerns are how to profit off this mess and whether the White House kitchen is well stocked with steak and ketchup. But I don’t really want to talk about that. I want to cultivate a positive attitude. And there’s a lot to laugh about in this situation. Forgive me.

So. What is it with the toilet paper? If this is the beginning of the apocalypse, or even just the beginning of a month shut inside the house (which, depending upon who is shut in with you, could be equivalent to the apocalypse), why is TP the one thing everyone desperately has to have? I read in the news that the police department in Newport, OR had to issue a statement telling people not to call 911 if they run out of TP. Lack of TP does not constitute an emergency. The run on TP reminds me how much Americans lack creativity. The last time I went to my local grocery store, the TP was gone but the shelves directly adjacent to the empty TP shelves were loaded with Kleenex. Go figure. Did I miss something? Did a dumbing-down virus already rampage through the country under the radar and silently turn everyone into an idiot? Please beam me up, Scottie. I could think of a lot of things I would like to have during a house lockdown. TP is not at the top of the list. I skipped the TP and bought a bottle of good Scotch whiskey. If this is the beginning of the apocalypse then I need a whiskey.

My cousin sent me an article about how Dems and Republicans are experiencing two different pandemics. It claimed that the Dems take it seriously and the GOP does not take it seriously, but think it is an evil Dem plot designed to undermine the Republican administration. (Biological partisan warfare?) I have to disagree with this assessment. Perhaps the Republican leaders refuse to take it seriously, but ordinary Republican people take it quite seriously. The Republican friends I have (and I must disclose that I don’t have many) take it completely seriously. My Republican neighbor kindly called me to check up on us and see if we are OK at our house. Even though we have a Bernie sign in our front yard, she told me they have plenty of TP and offered to share it with us if we need it. So, wow, we are good. My neighbor is a sweetheart and we refuse to be divided by partisan politics. No corn cobs needed in the bathroom at my house.

I suggested to my children that they subscribe to a newspaper if they are worried about running out of TP. (They read the news online while we get the New York Times Sunday paper delivered.) My husband discourages me from suggesting that anyone use newspaper because it will clog the sewage system. I’m not advocating for flushing it. That would clog the pipes. One would have to put it into a paper bag after use and put the bag in the trash eventually. Perhaps I should buy stock in roto-rooter because other people will get the idea but apply it indiscriminately because they are idiots. I heard a rumor that many newspapers are printing four blank pages in every edition for use in the bathroom. (I did not check this one out on Snopes.) Cool. I have a box of tissues on my desk, and when my husband swiped one to blow his nose, I asked him to let me have the tissue when he was done with it. (I could use the reverse side, right?) Remember Wimpy asking Popeye “Can I have that hamburger when you’re done with it?” If you’re not a Baby Boomer that joke means nothing to you. Go back to Instagram.

Because I keep joking around about all this, my daughter is worried that I’m not taking adequate precautions. She made me promise not to go out except to buy food, not even to the gym, to use hand sanitizer, and she made me promise not to eat off the floor. That seemed like a no-brainer at the time when I made the promise, but to my surprise I soon discovered that I actually do eat off the floor rather often. For instance if I drop a piece of cheese or a slice of zucchini and it doesn’t have cat hair on it then, well. Hmm. But I promised. Last night I dropped a piece of popcorn on the floor and without thinking picked it up and ate it. Now my husband is blackmailing me, threatening to tell my daughter. Mercy.

Said daughter lives in L.A., where things are getting pretty weird. Not only have people bought up all the TP and hand sanitizer, but now they are hoarding dry food (such as rice, nuts, and beans). The grocery store shelves are empty. After watching with amusement while a woman at the store attempted to ask a clerk to help her find Echinacea, which the woman could not pronounce and had to spell (reading from a computer printout), my daughter pointed out to me that a lot of people who previously had no clue what herbal and “alternative” remedies even were will now begin to learn about these helpful health resources. (Circumventing Big Pharma.) Exciting. Will humans actually evolve as a result of this debacle? One can only hope. I think the Echinacea anecdote provides evidence that everything has changed and the “old normal” has permanently disappeared in the rearview.

My daughter’s employer closed the office and sent everyone home to work remotely, so I suggested that she drive to our house in NorCal. I’ll have food growing in the garden in a couple of months and until then we can eat acorns if the food supply collapses. I’ve eaten acorns before. Not my favorite, but I know how to leach the acid out and make them into functional flour. We have TP for the time being (and our generous neighbor), but perhaps I should get started figuring out how to make TP out of acorns. That’s the kind of pioneering innovative spirit that has died out in America, I’m afraid. My fairly progressive rural community is home to many people who appreciate the benefits and joys of high-quality food. In our town, there has been a run on kombucha at the natural foods store (big bummer) and our local Grocery Outlet is sold out of organic kale chips (no big deal, I make my own). But we’ll never run out of goat cheese around here.

Speaking of goats. Last weekend we visited friends who live so far out in the country that they are still fighting off the virus that caused the great influenza pandemic of 1918. The coronavirus would need a helicopter, ESP, and night vision goggles to find them. We could barely find them with detailed directions, semaphore, an astrolabe, and a car. While walking from said car to their house (I use the term “house” loosely to describe the structure in which they live), I was hog-swaddled by a herd of goats hoping to eat my basket full of treats and I turned my ankle. Just my luck that the apocalypse is beginning and I can’t run. Not that I could run before I sprained my ankle, but I could at least walk faster. The swelling has gone down in the past week and the ankle doesn’t hurt, but I feel I should stay off it. It has turned several impressive shades of yellow, chartreuse, blue, and purple. Perhaps I should capitulate and buy that laser acupressure pen that I keep getting advertisements about in my email. It supposedly cures whatever ails you.

Since my aged father is cooped up in his apartment in the senior community where he lives, my brother initiated a weekly Zoom conference with all the close family so Dad can visit with everyone. That’s only for one hour out of the week, however. My son asked me if Grandpa was getting bored at home. Grandpa has never gotten bored a day in his life. He’s a brilliant mathematician. He’s creative and resourceful. He lived through the Depression. He doesn’t need a handheld electronic device to entertain himself. I told my son that while confined to his apartment, Grandpa will likely invent a new branch of mathematics (not for the first time in his life). But when I spoke to said Grandpa on Friday he informed me that he’s spending his time reading trashy thriller novels and taking long walks. Whatever. He has earned the right to stop producing. Meanwhile, my other son, the musician, and his girlfriend, who is a graphic artist, are on lockdown in their house in Oakland. Forbidden to go to work at their day jobs, they’re busy as bees. They will likely emerge with enough new musical compositions to fill a vinyl album, a gallery’s worth of art work, and several pounds of handmade paper. As for me, I’m going to start writing that sci-fi novel that has been on my mind lately. Maybe I’ll put a virus in it.

My husband sent an email to my daughter the other day to reassure her that he is complying with health recommendations. Our children are particularly worried about him because he’s a diabetic. He wrote to my daughter “We have stayed at home, though I had to go to a couple doctor appointments. I did sneak a couple of trips to the hardware store, but I didn’t lick anyone and I used hand sanitizer when I got back in the car. I even ducked when someone waved at me. Mom is really trying hard not to eat off the floor.” I appreciate him for putting in a good word for me. (That was before he saw me eat the stray piece of popcorn.)

This whole crisis gives me pause in light of climate chaos and the continued arrogant conviction by people that humans are the most important species. Humans like to think we are entitled to exploit the planet, exterminate other living beings, and disrupt the natural order without a second thought, and that Nature will not fight back. Think again, people. The coronavirus is Nature fighting back. Behold that this tiny living creature sends us the message that we are not the top species we imagine ourselves to be. We can easily be toppled. I’m beginning to think toppling humans is a clever idea and that it might be an efficient way to protect Planet Earth. But must we lose so many beautiful living human souls in the process?

It was peaceful driving to the natural foods store through empty streets in the early morning fog the other day to beat the rush. I wanted to shop when no one was about. It felt like a day of rest. Like the Sabbath. As the world slows down and comes to a near stop, we are giving Earth a rest. A cosmic Sabbath. We have reduced the carbon footprint dramatically by not flying and not driving. One has to wonder at the intelligence of this virus for finding a way to slow the destruction to the planet wrought by humans. I am beginning to think that a great many humans have less intelligence than a virus. What looks bad to humans might look good to other species. I hope Nature forgives us our trespasses and that we come out of this pandemic wiser and more aware. We have much to gain if we pay attention. Stay well.

And now you know why I chose an image of goats to go with this narrative.