In a strange turn of events, the world of C-19 has been overshadowed by a larger crisis, a crisis that has pushed the global pandemic to the peripheries of daily news cycles.
Protests over the death of George Floyd fill the streets. I’ve been glued to the news for the past week and a half, watching the country churn and broil.
The outrage over systemic racial injustice has thrown the former health crisis into a different perspective. The looming threat of a killer disease now seems, in retrospect, somewhat innocuous. Innocuous, that is, compared to the threat of martial law, rampant property damage, and police brutality. Funny how looming fascism can make you wish for simpler times, when masks and hand sanitizer were protective talismans against the threat outside the door.
Our county has moved into Phase 2 of our state’s phased reopening. Some semblance of normalcy is returning. I went to a bar and a restaurant this weekend with the Mrs. It was normative to be in places that familiar and novel at the same time.
Life goes on. We adapt.
“I will adapt” has become my mantra.
From the Epicenter 