Everything from house finches and hydrangea to cavorting rabbits is putting on a show—flashing colors and trilling arpeggios. Our lockdown is their liberation.
I thought I was done with this sort of thing after a decade as the Seattle Weekly’s riot guy, spending day and night chasing the upheavals provoked by the first Bush vs. Iraq war, in 1991, the acquittal of the Los Angeles cops who beat Rodney King in 1992, and the disastrous World Trade Organization meeting here in 1999. But the feeling of déjà vu all over again is too strong to turn away.
“Drive in WiFi” is the stopgap solution of the day: using the powerful fiber connections at shuttered schools, libraries, and other agencies and business to provide the WiFi equivalent to the old drive-in movies, with signals directed out to open parking areas. The state is scrambling to provide WiFi service to the 200,000 Washington residents who live beyond connectivity.
It's one thing to close restaurants, bars, and concerts; we pampered urbanites can switch to take-out, Zoom happy hours, and endless cultural and entertainment online. It's another to ban a rural community's essential rituals. “Our funerals are not one or two days,” Tulalip Tribes chairwoman Teri Gobin told me two weeks ago.
Are we just bidding farewell to the old normal before entering the new? What’s remarkable is how long-ago that old normal seems now.
Businesses are falling over themselves to tout their prevention measures, but it can take awhile for new rules to trickle down to the checkout counter.
You might imagine Trump’s jaw-droppingly fumbling, unfocused response to the pandemic and the stock market’s subsequent crash would convince even diehards that this emperor has no clue. Not in Trump country.
The coronavirus crisis has stomped the restaurant and bar trade like a health inspector’s red tag.
What does this suggest? That response must be rapid and cast a wide net. Any hope of containment means isolating and, if possible, testing those showing mild symptoms immediately.
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