Sunday, April 19, 2020

There Are No Hurricanes in the Midwest

....But every time there is one, you'll hear opinions on it.

Hurricanes are major events, that come in and severely disrupt the lives of many coastal occupants. Big events make big news, so even living many miles away, when it's tropical storm and hurricane season, our nightly news is still bombarded with stories of incoming disaster. We watch the projected paths of destruction and see helicopter footage of crowded highways headed inland as evacuations are called for. We watch the newscasters awkwardly standing in torrential rain, being whipped about in the wind, talking about when things will "reach landfall." And then we watch the footage of destroyed cities, upended homes, and massive flooding. We see the poor stranded souls waving for aid from atop their roof, desperate as the water continues to rise around them, and the heroic rescue forces coming in to save them.

And then you'll hear a similar sentiment, almost every time: Why didn't they evacuate when they were told? They knew this storm was coming, they were warned, and they chose to stay there. And now someone else has to go in and risk their lives to rescue them. And now our taxpayer dollars are being spent to send in aid. All because that person didn't listen. 

I've heard these words come from the mouths of family members. From friends. From coworkers. From that rando sitting a few stools down at the bar as a news clip flashes between the innings of some sporting event. From many Midwesterners who've never lived in a place where they've had to deal with that sort of natural disaster.* As far as they're concerned, that person waving from atop their roof, clinging to a child, a dog, and/or a small bag of their last remaining earthly possessions: it's their fault they're there. They made a choice. They should've known better. Should've listened. They knew the risks and should've understood the consequences. 

But here's the thing: people don't like disruption. They don't like change. They don't want to put their lives on hold and don't want to be told how to live. Those people on the roof probably thought, when they saw those same projections on the news, "Well, maybe it won't be that bad. They're just predictions. Science gets it wrong sometimes. I can't just stop going into work, and throw my family's schedule and our lives into disarray because of some forecast."

And then they were told to evacuate for their safety, but they still didn't want to deal with the inconvenience (cancelling plans, dealing with the kids, etc.). They didn't want to be told what to do. Their neighbors heeded government warnings, and took the necessary precautions, and made the hard choice to evacuate. And when the hurricane struck, and those people found themselves on the roof, while their neighbors were safe elsewhere, they wished that they'd have dealt with the temporary disturbance and had evacuated. They wished they weren't the person on the roof, suffering because of their choices. They wish they'd listened to science. And, I'd like to think, they regretted how it had played out. 

So, here we are. As a nation, and as a global community, we're being told that we need to deviate from our normal routines. We need to make a stark departure from what we previously considered normal in order to help save the lives of others. We need to stop going into work, limit our travels, temporarily suspend group activities. We need to evacuate, not from our homes but into them. We are in the path of a major storm and the forecast shows a potential for devastating destruction. Scientists and governments are providing us with warnings. And we're meant to listen and abide as much as we're able. 

But it can be hard, as so often one's perspective is entirely local. When there is talk of this pandemic, it can be a lot to take in. We hear staggering numbers on the news regarding infection and death rates. Of mass unemployment. We are inundated with images of overwhelmed hospitals, of healthcare workers lacking protective equipment. Of unattended funerals, and ever growing mass graves. But here, outside my window, right at this moment, it's a beautiful and sunny day. Right now, in some counties in Wisconsin, there are still no reported cases of Covid-19.** Many Midwesterners are not (yet) personally living in one of those hellscapes on the news. 

And that's when I begin to hear those same folks from before start to spout sentiments that sound an awful lot like the people on the roof: Maybe it won't be that bad. Science gets it wrong sometimes. I can't just disrupt my life. Why should I have to limit myself for a problem that's not here on my doorstep? 

Because, in the Midwest there are no hurricanes. This seems foreign to us. It's a problem happening somewhere else, to someone else. But the disaster we're all dealing with now isn't a hurricane. It's not limited by a shoreline. It doesn't feed off of warm ocean water and die as it comes inland. It also doesn't understand invisible borderlines we've drawn on a map. It is a virus, and it is spread by people, not Mother Nature. And while, yes, sometimes projections aren't perfectly accurate, and, yes, we all don't like having to make hard choices and forced changes; but we have been warned and know what precautions need to be taken. We've been told how to protect our loved ones and ourselves, and we need to listen and evacuate inward. Because else, you'll end up being that asshole on the roof. The one who didn't listen, who waited too long to heed warnings, and then put someone else at risk (one of our frontline healthcare workers) to try and save them. 

Imagine you're watching your own actions from somewhere else: how would you be judging you? Would you be proud to see the actions you're taking to save others and help our global community? Or would you be thinking that you too regret how things played out  up until this point, from atop your roof?

This isn't a prison sentence: it's a choice to save lives.


* Here we just have tornadoes and don't worry, we get almost no warning for those lolz So we just get the total destruction part without the choice to evacuate and take our families out of harm's way. 
** Probably due to lack of testing but.... don't get me started. 
*** Extra disclaimer: I fully realize the privilege in being able to social distance and self-isolate. I'm very fortunate to have a safe and comfortable apartment, a loving spouse, and a job that allows me to work from home. I know that many people have been forced out of work and into financial hardship due to some of the restrictions being put in place to flatten the curve and slow the burden on our healthcare infrastructure. That unfortunately many don't have a safe environment to call home. I understand that loneliness, depression, and a myriad of mental health issues are rampant when we naturally social creatures are forced to isolate (especially for those in a solo household). And that many don't have the luxury to stay home, as they are essential workers, and have to go out into the world every day. I know there are those with pre-existing conditions and illnesses, and those who are further along in years than I, that are in a more complete and terrifying form of quarantine.  I. Know. This. Is. Not. Easy. And that it's easier for some than others. And that there are a lot of complexities. But we're all in this together, and our borders aren't solid barriers which a virus can't travel through. So this is really the most important group project of our lives. The assignment: to protect the vulnerable and our essential workers, and to limit the loss of life and spread of this disease as much as possible until a vaccine becomes readily available. Don't be the weak link. Don't be that asshole who doesn't do their part. Don't think that you getting a fucking haircut is more important than someone's life. Do your part. Make your future self proud. Listen to the old adage, because it really is better safe than sorry.
**** Extra extra disclaimer: I know people end up being the one on the roof for a lot of different reasons. I get it. Life isn't black and white. Just go with the example being drawn here.