Author: Prof. Ornery

Posted on

Fear

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.


–Frank Herbert, Dune

The Bene Gesserit litany against fear is something that has (sort of) stuck with me ever since I first read Dune. I say “sort of” because I never memorized the whole thing, but I did remember enough to remind myself to not let fear overwhelm me and remove my ability to think and act.

This pandemic and lockdown we’re going through right now has brought this litany back to me once more. I do not consider myself a particularly brave person, but I also like to think that I can face things that might be scary or frightening and still manage to function. Lucky for me, I was correct in my self-assessment. While stories about the spread and destruction of COVID-19 have multiplied faster than the virus has managed to infect people, I believe that I have maintained my cool.

This does not mean I am not concerned about the virus. However, I am becoming more concerned about the economic and other destruction that is being wrought in the name of keeping us free from this illness. The information is confusing, conflicting, and constantly changing (how’s that for alliteration?) Masks are for all; masks should be worn by those showing symptoms; masks are not necessary; wear masks any time you leave your house, even in your own car…you are never immune, oh, wait, yes, those were false positives; it will die down in the heat and humidity of summer…no, it won’t. It will come back worse than before…it will come back less than before…

You get the point. A law in physics says that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. It seems that in the case of media and government bureaucracy reporting, for every report there is an equal and opposite report. What the hell do you do?

Well, I’ve decided that panic and fear are not going to be in my list of possible reactions. I’m watching friends, who are intelligent people, react in outright fear to any suggestion that the economy should open back up. I had a colleague say, with complete sincerity, that she didn’t think that students should be getting jobs at McDonald’s because that was “just too dangerous”. She then amended that to say, of course, if they needed the money…good grief. There is an absolute lack of understanding as to how the economy and supply chains work. I guarantee, these will be among the first people to lament the lack of food in stores and yet still fail to understand how that happened.

First off, reasonable people should be able to realize that the virus, no matter what we’ve heard about lethality, rapidity of contagion, droplets, etc. is NOT hanging around in clouds just waiting for us unsuspecting humans to walk out of the house and into a virulent cloud of infection. Really, it’s not. If you or someone you know is vulnerable, stay home, wear a mask when you go out, avoid sick people. These are things that immune compromised people have been doing for years…most of them quite successfully. If you are sick…stay the fuck home and don’t drag your sorry ass to work no matter how important you think your presence is; we’ve all done that and it’s stupid. It’s how common colds (a corona virus) float around offices. Why do you think daycares tell parents of sick kids that they cannot drop the kid off at daycare? Why do you think daycares are petri dishes of every random illness known to man? If your kid is sick, keep ’em home. But, because YOU are sick, that does not mean I have to stay home for fear of catching it. It is incumbent on YOU to take precautions not to infect others. If I am vulnerable, it is incumbent on ME to take precautions. It is not incumbent on the whole fucking world to protect you or me.

This is a rambling post, but fear is a rambling thing, I think. Again, I don’t think I’m fearful. Rather, I am concerned. Concerned about food supply chains in the immediate and near future, about the economy tanking so badly it takes a decade or more to get back to where we were in January (hard to believe that four short months ago we were at the top of our game), about mental health issues in general, about possible riots and other unrest as governors tighten the screws just as things seem to be waning.

A protest today around City Hall (or as many locals call it Shitty Hall), was met by counter-protestors several of whom held signs and banners saying “Reopening = Death”. Really? You believe we can stay closed permanently? That demonstrates a complete lack of understanding not only of epidemiology (I’m fairly certain they haven’t been out protesting against business as usual during previous flu seasons or during H1N1 or SARS or Ebola) but also of economics and how life and society depends on being able to do business. The government can give you money, yes, but it cannot make food or toilet paper. Only businesses can do that. And, many of those, and those in their supply chains, are closed. What good is government money if there is nothing to buy with it?

We need to overcome our fear of dying, our fear of illness, our fear of life. We need to recognize that people die. And, please. None of this means I or anybody else advocating for reopening WANTS people to die. What we want is to be given a chance to work towards preventing MORE deaths and preventing more AVOIDABLE deaths. Every death is a tragedy for family and friends. But, believe it or not, the world does not, and cannot, shut down for every single death (and trust me…when my father died I was shocked to walk out of the hospital and find people laughing…did they not understand what had just happened??) Fear of death cannot be allowed to overcome and obliterate everything we do.

Do not let fear become total obliteration.

Face your fear.

Let it pass over and through you.

In the end, only you remain.

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

Posted on

Turning the tide

It’s Week 19 of the More Odds than Ends prompts. Hard to believe I’ve been doing this consistently for 19 weeks! My plan is to say the same thing at Week 52. My prompt went to Mike Barker (again). This week my prompt was a photo from Kat Ross, “Dawn in the Cemetery”.

I used it to add a sort of epilogue to the short story In Defense of All We Hold Dear (link at the top of my page). So, here is Epilogue: Turning the Tide:

******

I stood stock still, staring around me. The ghost army, my ghost army, had done it. We’d taken the British supply depot that sat outside Trenton. We’d actually done it! We had turned the tide.

And, not a single one of my people had been lost. Yes, some were wounded, but everybody was alive, and the wounded would recover. We had regrouped after the fierce battle to a nearby field that bordered an old cemetery.

“The sun will come up soon, Miss…we have to leave,” a soft voice said from behind me.

I turned around and looked at the ghost of my father.

“I know…Pop, I really miss you, you know,” I was trying really hard not to cry.

“You are a good leader. I’m very proud of you. And, it’s a cliché, but I am always in your heart…I hope,” he responded with a grin.

Laughing, I reached out to hug him and got the best bear hug the world has ever seen. No, I don’t know why I could actually hug the ghost of my father, but at that moment I wasn’t interested in any explanations. I only knew that his bear hugs were one of the things I missed the most about him and somehow, this night, for this time, I got to experience them again.

Our mission to beat the Brits at their supply dump was a success. Finally, the on-again-off-again 250-year war for our independence might just be won by us. And we couldn’t have done it without the ghosts of all those past revolutionaries and soldiers.

He sighed and stepped back. I could see the shadows appear through him. I turned around and saw the sun coming up over one of the headstones.

When I turned back, he was gone.

“Bye, Pop,” I whispered.

******

Thanks, Kat. I enjoyed finding an ending to this short story and talking to my dad one more time.

Image by Keturah Moller from Pixabay

Posted on

Strange Days, Indeed

It’s hard to believe it’s been 18 weeks since Cedar started the whole More Odds than Ends weekly prompts. This week, my prompt went to Mike Barker: “So, he found a dead body when he was wakeboarding off of Jersey.” I was the recipient of Fiona Grey’s prompt: You’re at a drive-up diner, eating your meal, when up next to you sidles a bison. She gives you a polite nod, and orders a cheeseburger. This was a fun exercise in imagination. I really like both reading and writing the mixing of every day life with magical or supernatural beings and/or occurrences. So, here for your reading pleasure, my (very) short take:

********

It had been something of a tiring and strange day when I pulled up to the order window. My brain made a decision without consulting me and I turned in at the classic drive-in diner. I realize that fast food is probably not the best end-of-day stress reliever, but screw that.

This was my favorite place to go for a cheeseburger and fries. It was the last of a dying breed, the drive-up diner. They even have servers on roller skates who brought your food out to you. I always felt like I’d traveled back to a more relaxed time when I came here. I rolled down my window and pushed the button.

The speaker crackled. “Hi! Welcome to Dave’s Drive-In Diner! What can I get ya?”

“Hi. Bacon cheeseburger and loaded fries, please. And, a large chocolate milkshake. Thanks!” What? It’d been a long, strange, tiring day. I’ve earned that milkshake.

About five minutes later, the 19-year old server glided up to the car and deftly attached the tray to my window. “Here you are! Do you need anything else?”

“Nope, I’m good. Thanks!” I was already salivating at the sight of the cheeseburger.

I picked up the burger and was getting ready to take a big bite when movement in the next spot caught my eye. I froze with the cheeseburger part-way in my mouth. What the hell?

A huge bison was standing at the speaker. Yes, a bison. I was still staring when the humongous head swung around and gave me a polite nod before turning back to the speaker. I clearly heard the chirpy welcome spiel coming out of the speaker.

That was followed by a low rumbling sound, but I know I heard the words “cheeseburger” and “fries.”

The bison ordered a cheeseburger?? The chirpy voice on the other end of the speaker didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t wait to see what happened when the server came out with the tray. I finally took my first bite of my own cheeseburger.

Another five minutes and the server glided out of the main building toward the bison. There was absolutely no sign of surprise or shock. I was the one looking shocked…if anybody had happened to glance my way. The server was pushing one of those catering carts with the cheeseburger and fries sitting on top.

The bison was apparently a regular customer? I took a long sip of my milkshake. It was as delicious as it looked. I glanced back over at the bison and got a wink and a nod before she lowered her head and tucked in to her own cheeseburger.

I shrugged and nodded back. Yep. Strange day. But the milkshake is divine.

***********

Thanks for reading and please join us at More Odds than Ends for weekly prompt fun. You can submit a prompt to oddprompts@gmail.com or drop by the web page to pick up a spare prompt. The “rules” such as they are are on the main page. Come throw out a prompt response or two!

Posted on

Rampaging Beast

Once again, it’s time for an Odds and Ends prompt! I slightly modified the prompt I was given. I’m dealing with end of semester whining, attempts to gaslight me about assignments I created, and general angst that college students bring no matter what. That’s probably what gave me this little scenario.

Here’s the prompt from Misha Burnett: The supernatural creature rampaged through the crowded store, killing everyone but you. Why were you spared?

And here’s my response:

Rampaging Beasts

The noise was deafening. Between the shattering glass, crashing shelves, and screaming customers and staff, the store was chaos.

The rampaging werebear wreaked unimaginable havoc. It was roaring incoherently and throwing itself around the store like a toddler having a massive temper-tantrum. Nobody seemed capable of or willing to stop him.

From my hiding spot towards the back of the store I kept an eye on the beast and tried to come up with an idea. Abruptly, the werebear made a gesture towards the front door as if it were throwing a ball. All the remaining customers were flung out the door. Some went through what remained of the front window.

I knew that move! Suddenly confident, I stood up from behind the back counter. The werebear turned and started toward me.

“Goddammit, Brian! I told you not to experiment in the mall!” I stood my ground, arms out as if to hug it. My warding rod hung from its strap on my left wrist.

The giant creature came to a sudden halt. It stood panting and drooling about ten feet away. Slowly, its form appeared to flow and a disheveled young man about 19-years old stood before me, still panting and drooling.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry, d-d-Dr. Jones. I didn’t think…”

“Clearly you didn’t think! I warned you about this several times in class. Congratulations, you have just failed this exam. And, don’t even get me started on the damage and injuries. You’d better hope there were no deaths! If you are going to be successful in this class, you need to pay attention when I’m lecturing!”

Brian hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Good grief. Start cleaning this mess up.”

**********

I hope you found it slightly funny. The whole thing just kind of popped into my head after dealing with repeat emails from a couple of students.

Image by Waltteri Paulaharju from Pixabay

Posted on

Miracle garden

It’s Week 16 of Odd Prompts. I missed out on last week’s prompt due to a number of work-related stresses compounded by the quarantine/lock-down/house arrest we’re all dealing with. I’m hopeful that the reopening of the country which started yesterday will continue apace. I finally got back to writing yesterday evening and realized, I think for the first time, how truly important it is for me. Yes, it’s a form of escapism, but it also let’s me create problems and then create solutions to those problems. I dove back in to the editing I need to do on Book 1 and that should be done this weekend. Then I’m going to dive in to figuring out Kindle and working on Book 2. I’m also working on putting the series of cursed dolls into some sort of coherent story line. I think that’s going to be a new series.

I did write a small bit for the Week 15 prompt which I posted directly in the comments section over at More Odds than Ends and you can head over there to read that if you feel so inclined (I recommend going over to read the prompts from everybody over there simply because they’re all so good).

For this week’s prompt, I got this picture and this statement from Kat Ross:

“He’s been dead for 30 years, yet his flowers still bloom.”

Here’s my response:

*******

“Wow, check it out!” Greg stopped on the side of the path.

“Whoa! Those are gorgeous. How did they get there?” Andrea smiled at the large swath of deep red tulips that seemed to flow alongside the path.

“There’s a sign over here,” Greg pointed. The couple moved closer to read the inscription.

These tulips were a gift to the park from Samuel Beckwith (1900-1990). He planted them here every fall until his death in 1990. The following fall, park gardeners neglected to replant the bulbs, yet that spring, this river of tulips bloomed. Since then, the bulbs have never been replaced and the tulips have bloomed every year. This patch of ground was dubbed “Sam’s Miraculous Garden” by park gardeners. We hope you enjoy it as much as we do.

Greg and Andrea stared at each other. “Tulips aren’t perennials!” Andrea breathed.

“I know,” Greg answered. “Damn. Thirty years after his death and they still come back. Samuel Beckwith’s Miracle Garden for sure!”

The tulips swayed in unison back and forth and then were still again.

******

Short, but I like it. It’s sparked an idea for a short story and I’m allowing myself to take the weekend off from teaching/grading stuff so I think I’m going to chase down this idea.

Enjoy your weekend, get outside, and ignore the busybody Karens telling you how to behave! Don’t be afraid.

Image by monicore from Pixabay

Posted on

Announcement!

The first of two volumes of an anthology titled Fantastic Schools will be coming out this spring. The second volume will follow not long after. The announcement is…I have a story in one of these volumes! Not sure which one yet, because the editors (L. Jagi Lamplighter and Christopher G. Nuttall) got so many amazing stories they decided to publish two volumes. I am beyond grateful that they accepted my story “Going Home.”

Here’s the preliminary blurb:

Longing for more stories of life at magic school? Look no further! Here you will find stories of magic boarding school, but also stories of magic military school, stories of magical outcasts, of magical secondary schools, of magical preschools, etc.

Some stories take place at pre-existing schools of magic, such as Whitehall, Roanoke Academy, Black Magic Academy, Hundred Halls, and more. Others take place at new exciting locations that may just become your favorite magical school.

Join us for tales of enchantment and wonder!

Here’s a bit from my story just to peak your interest:

******

“Mo! Mo!” Sara was running across the playground toward me.

“What?” I quit trying to see if I could spot anything on the shore.

“Where are we? Did you do this?” she asked when she stopped next to me.

“Me? Why do you think I did this? I don’t run around moving whole buildings!”

“Yeah, you do. Remember that time last summer when you moved your dad’s garden shed across your back yard? He was soooo mad!” Sara laughed.

“Okay, yeah. But I never moved it elsewhere. And, no, I have no idea where we are. But I think Benny Dunleavy did it. He’s an idiot and thinks he knows everything.” I said we were elsewhere, that area of unknown that we all knew was in between our world and the world where magic didn’t exist. But I really hoped we had only shifted somewhere else in our own world. I had never heard of anybody bringing anything or anybody back from elsewhere or from the non-magical world.

Sara looked worried. “Do you think we’re really elsewhere?”

********

I’ll keep y’all posted!

Image by Darwin Laganzon from Pixabay

Posted on

Cursed dolls and cursed land

Here we are at Week 13 of the More Odds than Ends writing prompts. My prompt for the second week in a row came from Leigh Kimmel. And the prompt I submitted went to Kat Ross. My prompt: Warning that certain ground is sacred or accursed; that a house or city must not be built upon it—or must be abandoned or destroyed if built, under penalty of catastrophe. This struck me as something Jack, the free-lance curse breaker, might run across. In fact, one of his clients just might have given him this puzzle to solve.

*****

Walking carefully across the neglected yard, Jack surveyed the clearly abandoned house. Toys lay on the front porch as if they had been dropped in the middle of play. An Adirondack rocking chair shifted slightly. The front door was closed, but the screen door swung lazily back and forth in the slight breeze. Captain whined and leaned into Jack’s leg his tail firmly pressed between his back legs. Jack glanced down at Captain’s whine and stopped, surveying the empty house.

“What is it boy? What are you getting?” Jack whispered to the big German shepherd.

Captain whined again and crouched down. Jack leaned down and keeping his eyes on the house released the leash clip. If anything happened, he figured Captain would make it back home and Monica would bring help.

He slowly straightened up and studied the house. It seemed empty, but something wasn’t quite right. There was a heavy, watchful feeling about it. He was exceedingly happy he had decided to investigate in the bright light of midday. He just had a feeling that any other time with little to no sunlight would be treacherous.

“Come on, boy,” he said to Captain and made his way back down the walkway and through the little gate at the sidewalk. The dog followed right on his heels. Stepping through the gate he carefully closed and latched it before looking up at the house again. Standing on the sidewalk he felt better, and Captain was no longer whining, but his tail was still down, and his eyes never left the little house.

Reaching a decision, Jack crossed the street. Only then did he raise his camera to his eye and focus its lens on the house. The camera had surprised him the other day with its ability to show things that the unaided human eye could not. He made sure he took several shots of the house, zooming in and with a wider angle. He put the camera back in his bag without looking at the digital images. Clipping the leash back on Captain, he turned and walked to the end of the block where he had left his car. Time to go home and do some research on the house.

Back in his office, Jack pulled the camera out of his bag and plugged it in to his computer to download the photos. Captain whined once and retreated into the main part of the house. Jack could hear Monica talking to the dog in a soothing tone and the sound of kibble pouring into the metal bowl. He turned back to the computer, took a deep breath and opened the first photo.

Staring at the picture, Jack’s jaw dropped. The yard and the front porch of the house showed at least ten shades wandering about. Not only was the house haunted, it was filled with ghosts. Monica came up behind him.

“What the hell? Where is that?” She stared at the photo on the screen.

“It’s that house on 47th; the one that’s been empty for about a year. That guy cursed in the troll doll, Geoffrey, wrote down that address for me, but he didn’t want to say anything about it. I don’t know why there are so many shades there, but I guess I’ll find out.” Jack looked up at his wife. “This is getting uglier.”

“No kidding. Please be careful.” She gave him a brief kiss on the top of his head and went back into the kitchen.

Jack pulled up his browser window and typed in the address of the house. “Holy shit,” he muttered when the search results came up. “That explains it.”

The first link on the search page was a two-year old news story on the developer who was building a house on a lot that was long thought to be cursed. According to the news story, someone had once tried to build a house on that lot over a seventy years ago. That family had been gruesomely murdered one night, but no culprit had ever been found. No one had wanted to buy the house after that, and the original house had fallen into disrepair and rumors it was haunted had followed. The story around the house grew to the point where people said it had been cursed even before the first house was build, but nobody knew why. Eventually, the city had torn down what was left of the house, and the lot had remained empty until two years ago when the developer in question had decided that weird local stories were causing a perfectly good piece of property to go to waste. He’d bought the lot from the city for a song (they didn’t want it either), ignored all the warnings from the locals and built his house. A year later, he and his family had fled in terror.

Jack raked his hands through his hair. Somehow this was connected to curses he had been breaking recently. But he was at a loss to explain it.

He shut down the computer, saving the photos to a separate thumb drive and detaching that drive from his computer. No point in risking anything. He carefully closed his office door and walked into the kitchen where Monica was making dinner.

“Crap.” He sat down and put his head in his hands. “That house was cursed, and it’s haunted. Now I just have to figure out the connection between it and the dolls. Why did Geoffrey give me that address and why wouldn’t he say anything about it?” He groaned.

Monica pulled a beer out of the refrigerator, opened it and set the bottle in front of him.

“Have a drink, we’ll eat dinner and then work on this puzzle.”

“Thanks. You’re the best,” Jack sighed.

******

I really have to write this whole story. There are missing bits between what is serialized here. I’ve got a series idea for this…percolating, percolating…

Image by Peter H from Pixabay

Posted on

Old Books

My Week 12 prompt came from Leigh Kimmel: Peculiar odour of a book of childhood induces repetition of childhood fancy. My prompt went to Fiona Grey. Once again I have been working on getting my classes up (mostly) on line. We start back up again tomorrow. I was looking over the prompt assignments and thinking about mine when this just hit me. I didn’t even have a book in mind when I started and the title of this one just jumped out at me. For your reading pleasure (I hope), I give you…

Old Books

I was going through all the books in my parents’ place. Our whole family were readers and my parents were the ones who started my brother and I down that path. But my God did my folks have a lot of books!

I paused as I walked into the guest room. One wall held three tall bookshelves filled to overflowing. There were books stacked on top of books, books stacked on top of the bookshelves, books piled on the floor next to the bookshelves. This used to be my room and many of the books were from my childhood. The books on the floor were my dad’s that he’d obviously piled there for lack of space anywhere else. I grabbed a box and walked over to the nearest bookshelf. Yep. These were all my books. This was going to take a while.

I started on the very top of the shelf so that those books balanced up there wouldn’t fall off. Those were Dad’s. I briefly glanced over the spines – history, archaeology, physics, transportation – Dad had eclectic interests.

The top shelf held books from my early childhood, Mother Goose, Beatrix Potter, and others. There was also a strange but fun thing called The Space Child’s Mother Goose which my Dad had given me when I was little. I was definitely keeping that one. I sat down on the chair with the book and opened it up. Immediately I was hit by that smell. For some reason the book had always had an odd, not bad, but odd, smell.

As I read through the verses I was transported back to my earliest memories. My Dad reading the silly verses in the book which were all based on Mother Goose rhymes but with the giddy feeling that humans were just a year away from exploring the stars. I wanted to go meet Little Miss Muffett who’s force field around the tuffett kept the spider away. I was fascinated by Bo-Peep’s lost sheep meeting in parallel space “preceding their leaders behind them.”

“Um…” a voice came from the doorway. I looked up to see my brother standing there. “We need to finish this…what are you looking at?”

I held up the book and he broke out into a big grin. “I remember that book! You’re keeping it, right?”

“Oh, hell yeah. Do you mind if I keep it?” I really wanted to have that book near me again, but it was a part of both of our childhoods.

“Sure. It was yours really. I can always hunt around to see if I can find another copy.”

I smiled. “I’ll let you read it when you come visit.” I put the book down in the box that was going back to my house.

******

*It’s a real book, The Space Child’s Mother Goose by Fredrick Winsor and illustrated by Marian Parry, Simon & Schuster, 1958. I absolutely love it.

Image by Mystic Art Design from Pixabay

Posted on

Cursed Dolls

For the Week 11 prompt I received the following from Cedar Sanderson: You have a new camera. When you look at the photos you took that day, you see the lens captured more than you intended. My prompt went to nother Mike. It’s been a seriously busy week as the university is transitioning to online teaching and that means I have to get everything into a digital format, uploaded and ready to go. Along with making sure all the technology is working (alas no virtual Zoom backgrounds for me…guess I’ll have to clean up the office behind my desk). This is short, but adds to my cursed doll universe which is still deciding where it wants to go and what it wants to be when it grows up.

*****

Jack sighed and looked down at the latest dog with a doll sitting outside his office door. His office was in his home but had its own entrance at the side of the house. As a freelance curse-breaker, he was grateful for the ability to work from home. Beyond the 10 second commute, it allowed his clients some privacy when they visited as they didn’t have to walk through any offices or other public areas to see him.

Lately though, a string of dogs bringing in dolls which turned out to be cursed magic-workers had him on edge. The initial pattern was the same every time. A small tapping or knocking at either the front door or the office door, a dog, and a doll with a note. The last doll was the first one to identify who had cursed her and that had shockingly ended her life. Her German Shepherd, Captain, had come to live with Jack and his wife Monica after that tragedy and Jack was now fully committed to discovering just what the hell was going on.

This time, it was a Corgi standing behind an oversized troll doll. Captain trotted up behind Jack and sniffed noses with the Corgi. Both tails wagged briefly before the Corgi looked back up at Jack and whined. Jack sighed again, gently picked up the doll and stepped back to let the Corgi into the office. An idea struck him, and he grabbed his camera off his desk. He had just purchased it a few days ago intending to expand on his gardening photography. I should take before and after photos of the dolls and dogs and see if there’s a pattern there.

He set the doll down on the floor next to the Corgi. “I’m going to take a picture so that there’s a record of your arrival. You’re the fourth one in about two weeks, and I want to see if I can figure out the pattern, OK?” He didn’t expect an answer from the doll, but the dog gave a small yip which he took as permission.

“OK, boy. Sit. Excellent. Good boy!” The Corgi lay down next to the doll and Jack got down on the floor to take his shot.

Climbing back to his feet, he checked the digital screen for the picture. His jaw dropped, and he thumbed the zoom feature to get a closer look.

“Holy crap!” He stared at the now enlarged photo. The outline of a man could be seen encased inside the troll doll. It looked almost like an x-ray. What the…??

He turned the camera over again and stared at it. It looked like an ordinary digital camera. What the hell was going on?

******

Image by Busink29 from Pixabay

Posted on

Don’t Panic!

Are you panicked about coronavirus yet? Why not?? You should and you shouldn’t. It’s getting more difficult to decide what is overblown panic and what is realistic precautionary information. Should you <b>plan</b> on being quarantined? What if you have to? How do you plan for that? The whole situation is scary, uncertain, and seemingly constantly changing. But, I think with the most recent announcements by the president, namely the collaboration between the private sector and the feds to distribute and conduct the testing for COVID-19 will give us more realistic numbers, and give the number crunchers and those who have to respond to the numbers, far more accurate information. The key to damping down the panic is accurate information and we haven’t had much of that since before China announced that this virus. My plea to everybody is please don’t panic.

It’s a very weird dynamic, I must admit. On FB, I’ve seen a lot of my friends insisting that either we’re so complacent that we will all be dead by Easter and the world will end. At the other end of the spectrum, there are those who are absolutely certain that the whole thing is a hoax, or at least so completely overblown that anybody saying it’s a bad flu should be ashamed of themselves. My take is that rational people recognize it’s somewhere in-between, but I will say I lean toward the it’s not really as bad as we’re being told it is by the media. Remember, the media, no matter how sophisticated they like to portray themselves as, are governed by the mantra “if it bleeds, it leads.” In other words, they <b>like</b> the sensational, emotion-inducing headlines. Dramatic pictures of empty store shelves, long checkout lines, etc. These all contribute to that feeling that society is thisclose to collapsing. And they’re gonna be with you every step of the way through that collapse.

My university has gone all on line for classes as of yesterday in response to some of this fear-mongering. We have a week to gear up and become functional in an on line environment. I understand why the decision was made. And, honestly, I’m looking forward to the increased flexibility in my days. But, at the same time, I think that it was something of an overreaction. It came in response to the cancellation of the NBA, NHL, MLB, and NCAA seasons. It’s as if the president and board of trustees said, “Oh, crap. If the NBA is shutting down, we should too.” I mean, between Wednesday afternoon and Wednesday night, everything changed dramatically. I’m just happy I’m not in administration and dealing with the logistics of all of this. Now, I just have to record my lectures.

But seriously. It’s a bit surreal. I went out for a long walk this afternoon. There were a lot of people out. Groups of friends, couples, individuals like me. All kinds of people out, living their lives, out and about. Not isolated, not quietly staying inside and avoiding all human contact. The world keeps going, and life goes on. Compare that to the grocery store this morning. Insanely long lines, carts piled high with 10s of things, panic-buying all the things. There was no meat, no frozen anything, and of course, no TP (what the hell is up with that anyway??) But the contrast was telling. Me, I’m going with continuing on with life and not giving in to panic.

Seriously. STOP PANICKING! That is what’s causing so many of the problems. Just stop. We’re not being confined to our homes, we’re not going to lose power or water. Do your usual grocery shopping. Buy your usual amount of TP. Go for a walk. Play with your kids in the park. And, for my students, do your class work. Me, I’m going to keep putting my classes on line, and post reminders to myself to check in with them from time to time (kidding…I’ll be there on line, every day).

OK, so this was a bit of a rambling post. But, please don’t panic. We’ll be fine. Testing is increasing. Trump has done the right thing in partnering with the private sector to get tests out and available to everybody. (I know that a number of my friends will screech at that comment, but it’s true. This is the right thing to do. Try not to let your hatred for the man cloud your judgment on actions taken.)

Take care, stay healthy, wash your hands, and avoid panic.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay