Better careful than sorry

Eight months ago Barb and I cut short our vacation and raced home to take shelter.

It was a scary time. So much about the pandemic was unknown. We kept to ourselves, wore masks when necessary, and carried on with our lives as best we could.

At the time, however, Covid pretty much remained a problem elsewhere. A lot of Montanans began to doubt the threat the virus posed. They railed against health measures they said weren’t needed.

Reports that coronavirus affected primarily the elderly fueled their skepticism. Folks continued to gather in large groups, rarely wore masks, and called for life to return to normal.

There were no cases reported in the rural county where I live in northcentral Montana until mid summer.  Since then there have been hundreds of cases here and four people have died.

About the only change I’ve seen, however, are fewer snarky comments on social media about the severity of the pandemic.

It bewilders me that following the advice of health professionals to social distance, wear masks, and avoid large gatherings is somehow seen as a sign of fear. I live in fear of God, my wife, and being seen in public with my zipper down. I also fear Gaboon vipers, and a virus that is particularly hard on old folks and take precautions to avoid both.

But while I have fears, I don’t live in fear. I’m simply trying to be careful. I’d like to hang around for a few more years and not succumb to a lung-eating virus.

Admittedly, keeping to myself is probably easier for me than it is for many folks. Even before the pandemic arrived I was social distancing, spending much more time in the company of dogs than people.

I long ago quit hanging out in bars, prefer my own cooking to what most restaurants offer, and actually enjoy the company of my wife most of the time.

I miss my daughters, sons-in-law and my grandchildren, who I’ve seen only briefly since this all began. I miss sharing meals with my Hutterite friends.

But if hunkering down for a while longer will help us get past this pandemic I’m all in. It seems a small price to pay.

In the meantime I’ll say my prayers, try to do whatever my wife tells me to do, and check my zipper when I’m out in public.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected]