Listen. We’re all afraid. Not of the virus so much or even death but of financial ruin. How are we supposed to pay the bills? Millions have been laid off, hopefully most with a promise of returning to their jobs in the glorious aftermath—a month, now two, perhaps three, by midsummer … The only people who are comfortable coasting through this universal economic disaster are the ones with guaranteed monthly income like retirees, the independently wealthy, and the top brass who have the gall to tell the American people to stay home, don’t go to work or school, work online if you can (while figuring a way to pay the bills). See, they’d never tell us that last part because they are so far removed from the common man, they have no idea the fear of unpaid bills and loss of home, auto, food, furniture and a mountain of other obligations can drive some people to extreme counter reaction.
Listen. What’s been asked of us—to live without income for a few months while bills mount; to risk homelessness; to break the economy—it’s just too much. A real war would be preferable. At least it comes with combat pay. Two trillion dollars, an obscene amount, somehow will not be enough to tide over American families for more than one month. Why can’t they understand that? Many if not most of the American people would prefer to take their chances and keep working their ‘nonessential’ jobs if it means food on the table, money in the bank and a roof over their heads. But we’re not allowed that option, because the new virus with no vaccine or cure is so contagious plus our nation of plenty lacks hospitals, medical equipment, beds and trained health professionals to care for the projected hundreds of thousands who soon will get deathly ill.
Listen. Hear that? Do you sense it? Prayers! Voiced and silent, with and without tears. In every language. Every person around the world is praying simultaneously for divine intervention, a cure, a quick solution. Americans are notoriously impatient. But we’re resourceful, too, and will figure out various means to survive: moving, dropping expenses, begging, borrowing, whatever we gotta do. Pride has no place in hard times. We’ll find our individual resilience and collective dogged determination to get through this crisis. Overnight we have been forced to rely on one another, family, friends, neighbors, and our government local and state and federal. The government really has done all it can do to help us. We have been aware of an insurmountable budget deficit for a long, long time. We’ve needed to toughen up. Stiff upper lip. Come on, now. Crying time’s over. Re-arrange, reshuffle, toss in the air.
Listen. What’s the worst they can do? Kick us out of our homes? Courts are closed and backlogged for months. Besides, the President has declared no evictions during this pandemic. Will they cut off the electricity for lights, gas for heat, water for bathing and life itself, internet in order to work at home and for necessary communication? Maybe but doubtful. In the age of social media, cutting power and water from tens of millions of American families unable to pay the bills would be a corporate and municipal public relations disaster. And if they do cut us off, let us reclaim the intestinal fortitude of our backwoods ancestry who built this country. Portable toilets if we have to. Bread, water and canned food if that’s all we can scrounge up. Candles and matches and flashlights to see at night. Tents and towels for shelter. Live along rivers, lakes and creeks if need be. When there’s a will, there’s a way. Besides the hard times are supposed to be temporary, extremely temporary. Sleep on it, sleep in shifts, and ask for help: Salvation Army, major churches, food pantries and all the other nonprofits providing sustenance and relief. The TV ads proclaim “We’re all in this together.” Let ’em prove it.
Listen.
Breathe. Feel. Observe. Hear. Taste. Touch. Think. Read. Watch. Work. Rest. Walk.
At this moment we’re alive, healthy and aware. We’re in control more than we realize. And listen, folks lose their homes every day. Attachment comes with a price. Embrace what really matters.
Listen. This sudden empty time we’ve been given, it’s like a gift. Isn’t that what we’ve wanted throughout our busy lives, week after week, year after year? Time to watch children grow and learn and be part of the process. Time to think. Time to relax, sit outdoors and watch each day as nature blooms fresh with beauty, contently swaying gently in the breeze, happy just to be alive … again. As we gaze upon nature, our thoughts turn inward. Before the crash, were any of us really happy, rushing through the work week, feeling tired all the time, tense about money because there was never enough and now none? Instead, we’re left with this priceless commodity, an unexpected intangible present because Someone somewhere thought we needed it now. Soon enough, we’ll never have this gift again—time to change our lives for the better.