I got back an hour or so ago from a 90-minute walk to and from -- and a winding route through -- the University of Washington campus. It certainly wasn't sunny; it was at best drizzling. I sit here typing with the bottom six inches of my jeans clinging damply to my legs.
But sometimes when the weather's not so great -- cloudy and wet -- but not lousy -- pouring rain -- I enjoy it the most. I find myself observing my surroundings more closely than I might when the sun is shining blissfully.
Classes have been cancelled at the university since Monday. The buildings are still open and functioning, however. The libraries are still checking out books; the on-campus Starbucks outlets are brewing coffee; the dorms appear to have remained open for those students choosing to stay on campus. Still, one would hardly describe the campus as lively.
But as I ambled along past a dorm, a student walking toward me raised his eyebrows and exchanged grins with me while passing. And I realized that, ever since the COVID-19 epidemic got its grip on Seattle, casual smiles had become a more frequent occurrence. Students, adult men and women, old timers out puttering around in their damp yards -- nothing dramatic, just a smile, or a humorous grimace, or a hi or hello, or even a "stay healthy." Maybe in your part of the country, your part of the world, this behavior is normal. But it's not all that common, usually, in Scandinavian-rooted Seattle, the home of the dreaded "Seattle Freeze."
I've noticed it before only during big snow storms, when life has slowed down and neighbors stay home from work and walk to the store, actually looking about them as they stomp through the snow, rather than cruise at the speed limit in their SUVs.
I like it. And it's set me to thinking about people -- in Seattle and elsewhere. About how giant organizations like the NBA have canceled their seasons, at enormous cost, to avoid spreading the virus. And about how people are increasing their donations to those charities that support folks affected by job layoffs and by other collateral effects of the pandemic. I received an email today from a local professional organization to which I belong -- one representing attorneys who primarily work for insurance companies -- sponsoring a drive for donations to benefit homeless kids in local school districts and children from families affected by epidemic-related business closures, reminding us that "the biggest and most immediate impact [of the pandemic] will be economic; monetary donations will be used to meet this need and prevent families from potentially losing their shelter, heat or electricity due to the economic slowdown."
Our state and local governments have been at the forefront of efforts to contain the epidemic and to prevent spikes in contagion that would overwhelm our local ability to provide health care to seriously ill residents. The public has widely supported these governmental efforts.
So I thought as I walked in the rain, and as I sit here and type -- people really are pretty decent and willing to be helpful, aren't they, when given a chance? Especially, I tell myself chauvinistically, here in the Northwest Corner!
As we view the chaos and acrimony and finger-pointing back in Washington, D.C., we realize that -- at this time in our history, at least -- the feds don't really represent all that's best about our people. How we behave toward each other -- even if by just a smile when passing; how we contribute time and money to charitable efforts; how we govern ourselves, with reasonable efficiency and with compassion, at the state and local levels -- these represent the kind of people we are, far more than does that guy we see on television, the one with the orange face, who so obviously is trying, even as he speaks, to get a grip on the coronavirus, and figure out how to use it best to his own political benefit.
“The government
closest to the people
serves the people
best.”
--Thomas Jefferson
Of course, this is what the old-time Republican party at one time tried to tell us.
Ironically.
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