LIVING
THROUGH COVID-19 – PART 2
Quarantine is over and the tables have turned!
Instead of assuming we have Covid-19 and must take measures to protect others,
we assume everyone else has the virus. From now on, it’s our turn to protect
ourselves. This thought makes me very uncomfortable.
Our fourteen-day journey has been easy compared to
that of others we know. Friends stuck on cruise ships, not knowing how or when
they’d get home. Relatives laid off from work; others having to close down their
businesses. Our son, Jacques, a performing artist whose upcoming gigs have
evaporated. Isabelle, a CBC Radio journalist who works day and night to keep
Torontonians informed. Islanders we know who have chosen to shelter in place in
Mexico, the last place I’d want to be right now.
Living in an apartment building is a new experience,
and Covid-19 has taught us that it has its disadvantages. It’s even made us
reflect on whether apartment living is for us. I wrote last week of the
challenges Elva and I have faced in trying to stay healthy by walking and
getting some fresh air during our self-isolation. Every day since we arrived
home, we’ve listened to Dr. Heather Morrison’s updates and checked Health PEI’s
Covid-19 Self-Isolation Guide. The guidelines have changed twice in fourteen
days.
At first, we were allowed off our rented property,
provided we followed social distancing guidelines. This meant being able to walk
the Confederation Trail and the boardwalk. Then, on Day 6, we were told that we
could not leave our apartment, except to sit on the balcony. So, I sat there
and read a book for part of the afternoon, enjoying the fresh air and the cool
sunshine. On Day 7, the guideline changed again; we could go outside if we
stayed on the building’s property.
So, we’ve been walking back and forth across the
parking lot. Like hamsters on a wheel. My Garmin recorded 5.5 kilometers one
day. Elva and I are addicted to fresh air and exercise and we believe we have a
duty to stay healthy, especially in times like these. We do understand that not
everyone will agree with our actions during self-isolation but we know we did
nothing wrong.
My cycling buddies and I have our Saturday morning
coffee klatsch using Zoom, the latest in videoconferencing software.
Having ditched cable two years ago, Elva and I watch Netflix, YouTube,
and CBC Gem to pass the time. We have plenty of books to read. On a
sadder note, new terms have entered our vocabulary: physical distancing, self-isolation, quarantine-shaming, the
“rat line”, the “cocoon police”, etc. Covid-19 fatigue is setting in and our
leaders must soon tell us when to expect things to improve. In the absence of a
clearer path forward, individual resolve to comply will weaken.
Our parents and grandparents lived through two World
Wars, the Spanish flu, a polio epidemic, and the Great Depression. By
comparison, we’ve known little of hard times. Their experience taught them
about duty to family, community, and country. It taught them sacrifice, self-reliance,
the need to be frugal, and to always keep a little in reserve. Some good will
come of the Covid-19 crisis. I can only hope we’ll be smart enough to
learn a
few lessons.
Since we first learned of Covid-19 in January,
society has gone through a number of phases: ignorance, disbelief, denial,
acceptance, compliance, and, most recently, panic. I suppose you could say the
same of individuals and families. I worry about the consequences of the current
panic and the impact it will have on traditional social norms in future. When
will we feel comfortable being in a crowd again, shaking hands, hugging one
another, or kissing one another on the cheek? These are things that bind our
families and communities together; habits that make us human. Think about it!
As we all know by now, Covid-19 is much more than a
health crisis. It’s a societal and economic disaster, the likes of which we’ve
never experienced. Governments the world over have had to employ drastic fiscal
and monetary measures to keep the economy going so that individuals, companies,
and public institutions have enough money to get through this.
Central banks have lowered interest rates to
historic levels to ensure that credit continues to flow where it is needed. The
Bank of Canada had to buy $2 billion-worth of Newfoundland and Labrador provincial
bonds to keep the province from going bust. No other financial institution
would take on the risk. Oil revenues have dried up and the Come-by-Chance
refinery has closed, putting 500 people out of work.
Monetary measures have been announced by provincial
and federal governments. They’ve promised to spend taxpayer’s dollars to make
sure we get through this rough patch and to reboot the economy when the worst
is over. Deficits be damned! Some people are critical when our governments
“print money”. Maybe they’ve got a better idea. If so, I’d be the first to
listen. Tax increases down the road to pay for all this? Maybe, but smart
governments should look to cut spending first.
Covid-19 will change our lives in ways we cannot
even imagine, some of them for the better, I hope, but there’s no question that
2020 will be a tough year for Prince Edward Island. Will the tourists come? Who
will plant and harvest the crops and process the lobster? When will markets
recover for luxury products like lobster, mussels, and oysters? When will
non-essential businesses be allowed to reopen?
Looking further ahead, what will be the new normal? What
will supermarkets look like when this is over? Is this the end of retail as we
know it, especially big box stores and shopping malls? What will passenger
screening look like at airports? How will this affect public transit? Will the
travel and hospitality industries recover? What about the performing arts? Have
we seen the last of cinemas? What will happen to office space, including
government buildings, as more people work from home?
I sincerely hope that calm, intelligent, and
reflective individuals will look back when the worst of this is over and take a
good, hard look at our societal and governmental structures and our public
infrastructure, particularly those that have failed to meet our needs. And this
MUST be more than an internal government exercise.
Where did our disaster response plan work well and
where did it fail us? Did politicians and disaster experts, medical and
otherwise, do a good job? Were the right people making the key decisions? When
will we finally learn that rural Islanders deserve the same as the rest of us,
internet access being the most obvious example of a glaring inequity? And, most
fundamentally, which government services are essential, which are not, and what
are we going to do to redress the balance?
The biggest mistake we could make is to blindly go
back to the way things were and forget this ever happened.
On a personal note, Elva and I have been profoundly
affected by this experience. The strain on our immediate family has been felt
deeply by all. Our plans to see the world while we’re healthy enough to travel
have been put on hold for the time being. The cruise we’d planned for the fall
has been cancelled.
Our preferred cruise line, Holland America,
has done a terrible job of looking after its passengers and of communicating
with its clients. Check their website, www.hollandamerica.com,
and you’d think everything’s just hunky-dory! We’ve spent more than 250 days on
Holland America ships, including the ill-fated Zaandam. We may
never set foot on a cruise ship again.
Elva and I have a lot to be thankful for: good
health, the strong bond between us, a supportive family, good friends,
defined-benefit pension plans, and money set aside for a rainy day. Our bikes
are champing at the bit and ready for the first fine day.
I read a quote from Pope Francis the other day. It
went something like this: God forgives always; people forgive sometimes; Mother
Nature never forgets. Perhaps that is the real lesson.
