C E Morse
Days of turbulent emotions: despair, apprehension, hope, and confusion.
Throughout the world, people struggle with Coronavirus and the pervasive, continual stress associated with it. Wistfully recalling past experiences tinged with nostalgia, I ponder my age, my family and dear friends, well aware that I am privileged
These challenges demand new approaches to our art. However bleak my thoughts, however isolated I feel, I try to appreciate the bursts of happiness that I have taken for granted.
Where are those dreams and wonderings?
Years ago I taped this verse by Emily Dickinson to my refrigerator. I read it every day.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
– Emily Dickinson
Human nature is to socialize and despite the lockdowns and sheltering-in-place during this pandemic, people are going to get together. Like the 1920s and its Spanish Flu pandemic, Portland, Maine has speakeasies to flock to. They are underground, hidden hideaways where people can risk congregation and go maskless and get together closer than six feet apart. Is it a dream to think of this devil-may-care attitude we’re seeing that revels in the abandonment and rebellion of these restrictions; an escape and violation from the cordon solitaire that has been placed on us since March? When the pandemic is over it will be the beginning of the “Roaring 20s” of this 21st century. A booming economy is on the way.
Although first seen as a smoking gun for how many cases of the virus we have here in Maine, now it has become an umbrella term for the number of cases because of the CDC’s new rule to eliminate all those who are asymptomatic. Will we ever know the exact number of cases again? Was this a political move to make the country look less sick? Turns out Maine is not abiding by this new rule and so are a few other states. Experts became alarmed that their contact tracing would be hindered. Will these case numbers now become a smokescreen to some people so we don’t know how many other people actually have it, or where they’ve been, and with whom? It just seems that all these numbers just go up in smoke. Asymptomatic people are responsible for transmitting up to half of the cases.
Image at top: C E Morse, Who’s My Daddy?, photograph, 12 x 8 in.