Always An Advsenture
STRANGE TIMES
BY AVALANCHE
TAKING STOCK OF THE LAST SEVERAL WEEKS MAKES ME THINK WE’RE LIVING IN A BAD COUNTRY SONG - Staci hit a deer on the way home from work and the car’s in the shop (Staci and the deer are OK); two beloved local dogs have died; some good friends had to close the doors to their general store for lack of business during the current medical mayhem; two other local businesses are struggling to keep the bankers and tax men at bay; one neighbor’s septic failed, and another had a water line break. A nearby couple is on the verge of hiring divorce attorneys. By far, the worst of all is that a young man whom I’ve known since he was a toddler was murdered while performing his duty as a state trooper, setting up a spike strip to stop a fleeing robber. Rest in peace, Justin Schaffer #646. The world keeps turning during a pandemic. But it does seem that a lot of things that happen on rare occasions are happening all at once right now. Those day-to-day challenges are harder to deal with since everyone and everything is shut down. Everyone around the world has their own tales of trial and tribulation. The big picture of how all this will work out remains to be seen. Struggle and despair are in abundance at the moment. Happiness and optimism are in short supply. In spite of it all, the sun still comes up in the east and sets in the west. The sky is blue and the birds are singing – quite a bit right now, since it’s spring. Our garden is planted (on time, for once) and we have been spared much of the misery befalling our friends and neighbors. Maybe we’re simply more aware of what’s going on since we’re actually talking more frequently with our friends and neighbors. Around here, “if you need something, say something” is the prevailing ethic. Someone will help out. Lots more sharing and helping is occurring than has been the norm in the past.
12 | CROSSROADS | JUNE 2020
Our grocery stores are still stocked enough so that no one who enters will come out hungry. Favorite brands and quantities might not be there, but you won’t miss a meal. A few travelers have arrived, but they’re greeted with gated-off forest roads, and closed campgrounds and motels. A quick, clandestine trip into the neighboring county – forbidden territory for non-residents – yielded a glimpse of life from a few decades ago. Traffic was almost nonexistent; parking lots were completely empty, even a popular fishing lake was deserted. For those residents of the area, it’s a mostly-welcome respite from the sometimes overwhelming crowds of the last few years. The crowds and the traffic will return soon enough. With luck, they’ll bring money to spend. Yards and garages have been cleaned out. (Unfortunately, the local counties didn’t keep the landfills open. Some of the detritus from private property has found its way onto the sides of the highway.) Landscapes look better than they have in years. Those neighbors whose plumbing systems failed quickly found contractors eager to complete the repairs, they’re happy to have the work. Calls for service to the local police and fire departments have dropped precipitously. While the numbers are down, the severity of the calls to 911 seems to have increased. Those previously on the margins of society are falling off the edge. This situation gives all of us some time to ponder just what is “essential” to us, not necessarily synonymous with government edicts. More time and less money tends to focus one’s attention on the immediate hierarchy of needs. Our species has weathered far more calamitous situations in the past; we’ll get through this situation as well, maybe with a bit more understanding of ourselves and our place in the world.
