My wife was walking by herself in the park across the street from our place yesterday, when a woman from the building said hello. While keeping her distance, of course, the woman said that she’d hoped to see Melinda out and about before she left. She said that she’d lost her job of many years, and that she was moving back to Kentucky.

There’s so much damage right now. Losing our jobs. Friends losing theirs. Our kids losing theirs. That’s before we even get to the sickness and the fear we all face.

How are you coping?

We’re sad for our losses. By ‘our’, I mean more than mine or my family’s. I mean all of us. The country. The world. I follow China closely. We spent several weeks there a couple of years ago, and I had studied it intensely before we went. In January, I came across a reference to a Black Swan Event. I’d never heard about that before, and I had to look it up.

A Black Swan is an unpredictable event that is beyond what is normally expected of a situation and has potentially severe consequences. Black Swan Events are characterized by their extreme rarity, their severe impact, and the widespread insistence they were obvious in hindsight.”

Investopedia.

That pretty much sums up what we’re in the middle of right now. After the initial ridiculousness of people panicking with their hoarding of water and toilet paper, I think we’re doing pretty well. (Were they afraid of the water being cut off? The end of toilet paper manufacturing? I don’t know what that was all about). But for the most part, I see people that pass me maintaining six feet of distance and many wearing gloves. Facemasks are not uncommon, and I expect we’ll all be wearing them soon. Of course, when Melinda and I biked Buffalo Bayou at Tinsley Park last weekend the under-thirty-athletic types were crowded in and way too close; we immediately left the park. Which of us hasn’t seen that behavior?

It’s more challenging to keep a sense of humor at times like these — but this is when we should. I look around and see that other people are living much more like I always have. For decades I’ve been somewhat of a germaphobe — much to the amusement of my family and friends. I won’t put a clean fork on a table: who knows whether the table is really clean? I thought the TV series Monk was a documentary. I never recovered from the episode about hotel rooms. (That’s actually true, not a joke). People punching elevator buttons with their elbows — saw that this morning. Now people in line at the cashier don’t crowd up behind you; I always hated that invasion of my space.

It’s hard to find ways to help people when you’re terrified that if you get sick, you will infect your family. People keep their heads down at the park when they’re walking for exercise. I try to greet them with a smile if I catch their eye. A smile is a help. A happy word or a word of support. Have you had those opportunities? I encourage you to look for them, and you will find them.

Oh, and Her Dog is still here. She’s wearing a pink bandana now. How funny is that when I take her for a walk?