May 6, 2020

We live in a part of the province of Ontario, Canada, called Brant County. In area, Brant County (including my town, a couple of rural communities and the city of Brantford) stretches out to about 325 square miles, with a combined population of about 140,000. And in this area and among this population there are currently 5 people hospitalized with Covid-19 and 16 people self-isolating at home, as of yesterday’s statistics.

Most people hereabouts have been heeding the advice to stay home. David caved over this past weekend and went to the grocery store with our daughter. He had his own cart and wore a mask and gloves. And when they got home, the first thing they both did was to wash their hands.

I have no pressing need to socialize with other people. I am perfectly content to stay home. I have been in quarantine mode for 53 days as of today. There are two exceptions to that isolation. The first was the fifteen-minute scooter ride I took a few weeks ago, just a quiet ride around the neighborhood. I didn’t come any closer than ten feet to another person (well, except David, who was riding with me). The second will happen shortly. I have to go and get my quarterly blood work done at the community lab this morning, in advance of my doctor’s appointment tomorrow. An appointment that will be held over the telephone, and not in person. Being diabetic, I go every three months to see the doctor; under the circumstances, that won’t be a physical visit this time. They are conserving their PPE for those people who need to be seen. I have no objections to that policy.

For me, my “appointment”, usually is a matter of checking my labs, which they will receive tomorrow morning, and their recording my medications, issuing prescriptions where necessary. I will count the number of pills I have for each medication and let them know if there are any refills pending. Since those medications are all right here in a baggie in my office, that’s easy enough for me to do.

My point is, for the most part in this area, we are all doing what we can to reduce the spread of one of the most transmittable diseases in modern history. I think it would be different if everyone who had the disease displayed symptoms. But they don’t and can therefore be unwittingly spreading this novel coronavirus to others.

I have been completely flummoxed by the protesters taking to the streets—mostly in the United States but sadly, a few here in Canada. Those who feel their liberty has been impugned by the necessary stay-at-home orders, devised to keep everyone safe. Some held signs that read, “give me liberty or give me death”. I seriously don’t believe that Patrick Henry would consider temporary stay-ah-home and social distancing restrictions imposed upon him to be worthy of that line. He would have heard of the plague, if he hadn’t experienced it. He very likely would have complied.

Give me liberty or give me death, indeed.

Friends, that just tripped my switch. What would I say to these common-sense deprived people? Why, I’d say this: You see, protesters, I would be fine with that. You want to take the chance of dying? Go for it, baby. But the problem, you see, is you could get the disease without having any symptoms, and then pass it on to someone who’s not a protester, who’s just, you know, hanging home and trying to be safe. What you’re really saying with that sign is, in fact: “give me liberty and give my mother death”. Or father, or child, or wife, or whomever has the misfortune of being close to you.

This kind of behavior in society isn’t new at all, though this may be a unique rendition. It isn’t necessarily born of these times in which we live, either. There have always been stupid people willing to do stupid things for stupid reasons. 

Maybe that’s a little harsh. Maybe this behavior doesn’t hearken so much to stupidity, as it does to immaturity. I’m reminded of young children sent to their rooms for a time out. Or teenagers grounded for some infraction or another. I can see them stomping their feet and having little hissy fits. They’re instructed to do something for their own good and they throw themselves on the floor and kick their feet and cry out, “I don’t want to, I don’t want to!”

When I was younger there was an expression my mother would use, and I am reminded of it in this instance. I consider it a cliché of sorts because it’s been around even longer than from when I was a child, and it certainly applies, in my opinion, to these circumstances.

All those people gathering in large crowds to protest their state government’s dedication to the protection of their lives and the lives of their loved ones? Why, they are doing nothing more than cutting off their own noses to spite their faces. 

Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury