The bluebonnets came up this year. That’s anything but remarkable in Central Texas, but this year I think a lot of folks found comfort in at least one event carrying on undeterred by COVID-19.
Note: I don’t know what the current status will be by the time you read this (it seems to change daily), but to those infected by the virus or who have lost friends and family to the virus, I’m sorry. How serious of an issue this is across the entire nation is not clear, but what is clear is some people are made seriously and even fatally ill by this virus and that is truly terrible.
As you know, this column tends to be fairly lighthearted, but I don’t want that to come off as belittling those who are dealing with, or have dealt with, actual tragedy associated with the virus. I don’t think the panic or the cable news fear mongering have helped at all, but it’s easy to forget (regardless of how you think this should be handled for all of society) there are individuals who it’s impacted personally.
There’s also likely to continue to be some serious fallout from the effects of COVID-19 and society’s reaction to it. Many people have or will lose their job in the economic rash that accompanies and follows this virus. This too is not taken lightly.
There are some upsides to a society-wide shutdown though. For one, as a homeschooling family, we now look ahead of the game. Also we finally found the optimum population for the Austin area road systems: pandemic level. Trips out (prior to shelter in place) are a breeze and I actually drove from north Austin to San Marcos on Interstate 35 without stopping. Even at Riverside, people!
I’m also thankful we’re staying at home in the suburbs. Walking around in the evening is far less zombie apocalypse-y than the movies have you believe. It’s nice to actually be able to hear the leaves rustle, the creek bubble, and the birds chirp instead of the constant wail of sirens and roar of airplanes. So many fewer airplanes.
Waking around suburbia after dark, using all my senses, I’m struck by the overarching smell in all the neighborhoods: laundry soap. I guess it’s always like this, but the more natural experience of walking around when the town is mostly hunkered down makes the synthetic smells stand out.
While it’s probably a good change that people are out taking walks and enjoying the spring-time weather some of it seems due to the deep discomfort many people seem to have with being alone. For the young, perhaps it’s an unwelcome glimpse into their future.
It does make you wonder if a little self reflection is warranted about why superficial regularities getting cancelled impact one’s sense of self so much. Sports fans, bar hoppers, foodies and exercise nuts are forced to acknowledge the closed destinations and cancelled events are either really important disruptions, or if not they sure feel that way. Why?
In the U.S., on any given day, most of us have been blessed with family, friends and freedom worthy of hot tear gratitude. These things aren’t accidents, and this virus demonstrates they’re certainly less in our hands than we perhaps typically think.
And this takes me back to the wildflowers. Most of them aren’t planted, watered or fertilized by human hands. Yet, even in a relatively unsettling time in American history, they continue to bloom. There’s a great deal of truth hidden in plain sight amongst the goldenrods and the bluebonnets, the flaming paintbrushes and the soft, pink buttercups.
The wildflowers aren’t afraid. And they will bloom again. There are lessons there for all of us.
Harris and his wife live in Pflugerville with their five sons. Please email comments or suggestions for future columns to thoughtsforcaleb@gmail.com.
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