I grew up in the tornado belt, and for a chunk of the year “shelter in place in the basement” was a social activity. A tornado is an odd thing, as it pops up without much notice and moves through pretty quickly. In the pre-internet days, we would be provided a warning of impending doom via a crawl on the TV and an intrusive beeping noise. The crawl would provide an update on the ‘nado’s location and ask  “if you have a deaf neighbor, please tell them”. So, it became a weekly event for us to run to our neighbor’s house and yell “Hey, you’re deaf!” Along the way, we learned the difference between a watch and a warning (true story: years later we were in Hong Kong and were offered a very cheap Rolex warning. Couldn’t fool me!). Fortunately we were never struck, but it was a part of our lives – it is what we did on Sunday nights, and it was much more exciting than bingo. In fact, I know several families who have had family reunions in the SW corner of their basement.

I now live in the hurricane belt and in our current age of hysteria, anytime there is a hint of a ‘cane, we are urged to “shelter in place somewhere else”. But hurricanes are the polar (coastal?) opposite of tornados – you are given plenty of notice as they develop in the tropics and head this way. And on some level, they are TV’s version of Revenge of the Nerds, as meteorologists take over the station and for a couple of days, rule the world and get the chicks. But these storms develop and move slowwwwly  – like being stalked by a turtle –  so there has to be a lot of hysteria to hold our attention. And once you learn that there is a hurricane center update only every three hours, you know the nerds have big blocks to fill with hysteria: Is it raining yet? Have they rebuilt Puerto Rico? Never wear plaid during a weather disturbance!  But while they take much longer than tornados, they too have an end.

We all now live in the pandemic belt, where half the world is choosing to “shelter in place” and the other half is choosing to “die in public”.  (Saw a local news update today showing dead jellyfish on our beach.  Killed by the man my captor calls “the governor”). And while tornados are the collision of high/low pressure and WalMart’s destruction of local stores, and hurricanes are warm water meets warmer water meets you haven’t evacuated yet, you’re dead! , C19 is infinitely more complicated, potentially caused by: excessive hand washing, General Tso’s chicken, or Louisville Sluggers, which makes it difficult to imagine a cure or way forward.  That might be the hardest part of C19: There is no end in sight.

I will always remember where I was for Omaha’s 1975 tornado, and Hurricane Matthew, and  I guess I will always remember where I was during C19. Sitting on the couch.  For months at a time.  But maybe what C19 needs to make it more memorable is a catchy name, maybe: The Great Depression 2, Spanish Flu: The Chinese sequel, The Death of Hope 2020. Let’s hope that if they name pandemics they don’t get past the letter A.

Got to go now – Tropical Storm Arthur has just been named – need to turn on the Weather Channel to see what I should wear. And what piece of furniture I should hide under

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