There's been a lot of talk about reopening the economy, and even in Morgantown, our Acting City Manager is opening offices, with precautions, of course, and expects the City Council, of which I am a member, to resume meeting in person. We have a workshop in June where fifteen or so of us will be locked up for a day and a half to talk about the future. I have my doubts about attending. The woman who will run this event, Julia Novak, who has a consulting firm, asked us a few weeks ago to speak to her about our thoughts on the city. I spoke to her by phone Thursday and expressed my doubts about attending at all, that several of us had misgivings about spending money for this when city revenue is sharply down, and that the former cohesiveness of Council is fraying. She took all of that in. Some of the people on Council had not contacted her, as she requested.
As usual in my life, there is a point to my being on Council that I hadn't counted on. Our City Manager left last week for a job in his native Michigan, the Police Chief is resigning at the end of June, and we have an unprecedented financial and medical emergency in the city. Most people would poo-poo this, but I can't help feeling that, despite my reluctance, God has chosen me to step up to the plate and be a leader, exactly when I don't want to be a leader.
In my last post, I was hoping that everyone could be tested for COVID-19, so we would know exactly where we stand. After Joe Severino, a young reporter for Charleston's Gazette-Mail (and a former WVU student who reported on City Council) wrote a series of articles about a group of African-Americans who were infected at a large church service in early March, and for some reason couldn't get tested, the state started two days of mobile testing, open to everyone with or without insurance. The dates in our county were yesterday and today. Joe and I didn't go. We've been cautious about going out and we're not sick. The test I want, to see if there are antibodies, is not widely available, and my friends who know say those tests are not yet reliable and don't mean you have immunity from reinfection.
Meanwhile, our local mall opened this week, and restaurants are able to open if they limit capacity and take precautions. We ate outside two weeks ago on a warm, dry day (we've had rain nearly every day the last few weeks) and the staff was cautious and prepared. There were only four or five tables, where usually there would be ten. Still, a raucous family of five sat behind us, and they and everyone who walked through the area did not have masks. Reports from friends who have been to Lowe's and Wal Mart say that very few people are masked, and someone said they were confronted and mocked for wearing one. It's Saturday afternoon, and Joe and I will probably get Chinese or Indian carry-out for dinner from a downtown restaurant. Even if we are allowed to eat in, I'm not ready. In the Eastern Panhandle of our state, near Harper's Ferry, Charlestown and Martinsburg, the number of cases has increased dramatically. They border areas of Maryland and Virginia where nothing is open, so people have migrated in. Democratic legislators in the area have called for the Governor to close things up again in that part of the state, but he assures them that he and his great friend, the President, know what they are doing.
It's increasingly clear that the President has no idea what he is doing, and our Governor is giving in to pressure from certain businesses, like allowing tanning salons to reopen. Our whole country seems to be derailed, and while the Governor was cautious at first, he seems reckless now.
The only place I've seen obituaries for people who have died is in The New York Times, which we get delivered late Saturday night for Sunday, and in Rolling Stone, which this month featured obituaries for singer-songwriter John Prine, and for Adam Schlesinger, of the band Fountains of Wayne, who died from COVID-19. Schlesinger's symptoms in early March are similar to what I had in January, only they took a sudden and dramatic turn for the worse and he died at age fifty-two. Maybe I had that and maybe not, but I have to think there is some kind of purpose to my life continuing. I take that as a challenge to be better, more of an activist.
I'm not optimistic about the future of the country, or really, of our species. I should be doing more. I gave some of my $1200 government money to political candidates who might make a difference, and I argued on Facebook with people on the left who say they can't vote for Biden because he is pro-Israel. Our synagogue had a presentation this week online with Rabbi Joe, Imam Kip of the local mosque and Pastor Zac of First Presbyterian Church, about how to lead the congregation from a distance. Of course, all three were frustrated, but when Mavis Grant-Lilly, a local activist and the moderator, asked what surprised them, Imam Kip gave the most honest answer of the night, when he said "I'm surprised by the lack of intelligence of people...even those in positions of power." Pastor Zac said he was surprised that people are so impatient when they know lives are at stake. Rabbi Joe and I sent a picture of ourselves in masks to Morgantown's Communications Director to forward to the County Health Department, saying we wear masks because pikkuach nefesh, saving lives, is the most important commandment in Judaism.
What I've learned from Joe and others is that our first priority is saving lives, and the economy is way behind that. Because we don't eat meat at home, only out of the house, I have not eaten meat other than fish since we've been locked down. With the callousness of the meat industry toward its workers, and the "meat at all costs" attitude of the President, this would be a good time to stop eating meat altogether. And before the pandemic, I had picked out a new car for us to replace our 2012 Suzuki, but now, I don't think I will ever buy a new car. We have not both been out at the same time since early March, so two cars is a luxury. Maybe it's a good time now to push for that Green New Deal, for Medicare For All, for a much reduced consumption of everything. As we say in Judaism "Therefore Choose Life."
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