Why a Deadly Pandemic Aroused Less Drama in 1918
A pandemic and a war, a pandemic and a civil-rights revolution … Only the shapes of crisis change. Human nature does not.
A pandemic and a war, a pandemic and a civil-rights revolution … Only the shapes of crisis change. Human nature does not.
A whole lot of us are grieving—and as a result, feeling even more vulnerable, because sadness, in this culture, reads as weakness. And weakness scares us, because it means we are defenseless and powerless.
Clotheslines are at once homespun and ethereal, whether they are strung across apartment buildings in Brooklyn or overlook a field of sunflowers in the Midwest.
Donnie was sitting on his porch when we passed. It had been three days since the hurricane. His house was missing half its shingles, and the city had no power or water. Next door, workmen were ripping up the damaged rubber roof of a business, in order…
My son and I labored around our property. We got lucky; there was little damage to the house itself. But it was still hard work, in subtropical humidity, full sun, and heat indices over 100 degrees. I was the kind of exhausted where I was mouth-breathing, and when I bent over I drooled on my shoe. But cleanup is no joke, and reports of heart attacks and heat strokes are frequent.
In 1895, Samuel Verner, a white man from South Carolina, moved to the Belgian Congo to work as a Presbyterian missionary. It seems he had a greater aptitude for acquiring human beings than saving souls. In 1904, he received a commission to bring a dozen people from the Congo to St. Louis to be exhibited at the World’s Fair.
Those in the Gulf South are realistic about hurricanes. Three days after Laura hit, cleanup is well underway. South Lake Charles. Groves of trees all over town are crushed. West Prien Lake Road. Tobacco Plus gas station, near the casinos. Vape shop, Ryan Street. Utility vehicles staged in supermarket lot…
Is this the usual pre-election jitters, when we all threaten Canada? Or is it the blend of clear-eyed realism, hope, and fantasy that brought settlers here in the first place? This country, for so long the world’s golden child, has tarnished.
Reset. That is what we want to come out of this crisis. Not a “transformation,” which has a glowing aura but never works the promised miracle. Not a “reform,” which could be political and painful, or an “overhaul,” which would be expensive and exhausting. Just a “reset,” simple as pushing a button.
In a time of instant expectation, a hurricane is a lesson in waiting. I grew up in the Midwest, where tornadoes blossom quickly, and their effects are quickly known. A hurricane grinds its way from Africa, many times, its path uncertain. Even after forecast models converge, and its landfall spot…