by Pa Rock
Sheltered-in-Place Citizen Journalist
So much has changed during the past several weeks. People who must still go to work do so nervously, and reluctantly. And those of us who support our own health and the health of our community by staying home are bored and easily annoyed. Doctors' appointments have been cancelled, events postponed, haircuts aren't happening, and when a trip to town is an absolute necessity, the fewest possible stops are mapped out ahead of time along with a comprehensive plan for getting the absolute maximum out of the trip.
There are alcohol wipes in the car, and everything that must be touched gets wiped down first.
Gas is cheap, but there is no place to go - and the price of toilet paper is through the roof. Schools are closed, and so are bank lobbies and restaurants, and some stores are limiting the number of customers who can be inside at once and making them walk the aisles in pre-determined patterns.
And gun sales are up because we have all been taught since the cradle that when it comes to survival, the person with the most firepower wins.
This coronavirus plague, or COVID-19, or whatever you choose to call it has upended our lives, and every aspect of society seems to be feeling the hit.
Churches have also been impacted by the killer virus. Most states - and many communities - have enacted size limits on public gatherings, and many have eliminated public meetings and events altogether. Some churches have complied with these public safety manifestos without complaint, while others, particularly in the South, have raised holy hell claiming that government was restricting the ability of people to worship as they pleased - and defied the emergency laws by holding large religious gatherings and passing the collection plates.
Other churches have chosen to adapt to the crisis without engaging in all of the low-brow, government-bashing theatre.
Last week I received a letter in the mail. It came in a standard-sized envelope with my name and address handwritten - in a very nice script - on the outside - along with the name and address of a couple in a neighboring community in the return-address corner - a couple whose name I did not recognize. I passed my son on the way into the house and asked if he knew the couple, and he said that he did not.
I was concerned. My first thought was that this was from someone who regularly drove past my home and small acreage - which I like to keep as immaculate as possible - and was perhaps going to inquire about buying the place. Or maybe the letter was from a pair of young realtors looking for listings. Or maybe it was a threat to sue for God-knows-what, and they would accept a quick payoff if I left the money in a brown paperbag out front by the mailbox. (Those mysteries that I enjoy reading and watching on television generate occasional whiffs of paranoia!)
Once inside the house I sat down, calmed down, and carefully opened the bothersome piece of mail. To my relief, it was nothing more than a proselytization packet of information. A church, known nationally for stopping by people's homes uninvited to hand out pamphlets and discuss scripture, had - due to the coronavirus outbreak - resorted to harassing the masses with personal letters.
The envelope contained two very small pamphlets inviting readers to write or go on-line for more information - as well as a computer-generated personal letter from the wife of the couple whose name was on the envelope. She invited me to join in two special services which were being presented over the internet at specific times.
And I guess that I am okay with all of that. It is at least preferable to being called away from my daily routine to stand in the front door and try to figure out a way to politely tell meddlesome friendly visitors to get the hell off of my property and not come back.
But once the danger is past they will undoubtedly return - like the chiggers, and ticks, and seventeen-year-locusts.
Maybe I should erect a watchtower so I can see them coming!
Sheltered-in-Place Citizen Journalist
So much has changed during the past several weeks. People who must still go to work do so nervously, and reluctantly. And those of us who support our own health and the health of our community by staying home are bored and easily annoyed. Doctors' appointments have been cancelled, events postponed, haircuts aren't happening, and when a trip to town is an absolute necessity, the fewest possible stops are mapped out ahead of time along with a comprehensive plan for getting the absolute maximum out of the trip.
There are alcohol wipes in the car, and everything that must be touched gets wiped down first.
Gas is cheap, but there is no place to go - and the price of toilet paper is through the roof. Schools are closed, and so are bank lobbies and restaurants, and some stores are limiting the number of customers who can be inside at once and making them walk the aisles in pre-determined patterns.
And gun sales are up because we have all been taught since the cradle that when it comes to survival, the person with the most firepower wins.
This coronavirus plague, or COVID-19, or whatever you choose to call it has upended our lives, and every aspect of society seems to be feeling the hit.
Churches have also been impacted by the killer virus. Most states - and many communities - have enacted size limits on public gatherings, and many have eliminated public meetings and events altogether. Some churches have complied with these public safety manifestos without complaint, while others, particularly in the South, have raised holy hell claiming that government was restricting the ability of people to worship as they pleased - and defied the emergency laws by holding large religious gatherings and passing the collection plates.
Other churches have chosen to adapt to the crisis without engaging in all of the low-brow, government-bashing theatre.
Last week I received a letter in the mail. It came in a standard-sized envelope with my name and address handwritten - in a very nice script - on the outside - along with the name and address of a couple in a neighboring community in the return-address corner - a couple whose name I did not recognize. I passed my son on the way into the house and asked if he knew the couple, and he said that he did not.
I was concerned. My first thought was that this was from someone who regularly drove past my home and small acreage - which I like to keep as immaculate as possible - and was perhaps going to inquire about buying the place. Or maybe the letter was from a pair of young realtors looking for listings. Or maybe it was a threat to sue for God-knows-what, and they would accept a quick payoff if I left the money in a brown paperbag out front by the mailbox. (Those mysteries that I enjoy reading and watching on television generate occasional whiffs of paranoia!)
Once inside the house I sat down, calmed down, and carefully opened the bothersome piece of mail. To my relief, it was nothing more than a proselytization packet of information. A church, known nationally for stopping by people's homes uninvited to hand out pamphlets and discuss scripture, had - due to the coronavirus outbreak - resorted to harassing the masses with personal letters.
The envelope contained two very small pamphlets inviting readers to write or go on-line for more information - as well as a computer-generated personal letter from the wife of the couple whose name was on the envelope. She invited me to join in two special services which were being presented over the internet at specific times.
And I guess that I am okay with all of that. It is at least preferable to being called away from my daily routine to stand in the front door and try to figure out a way to politely tell meddlesome friendly visitors to get the hell off of my property and not come back.
But once the danger is past they will undoubtedly return - like the chiggers, and ticks, and seventeen-year-locusts.
Maybe I should erect a watchtower so I can see them coming!
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