By Brigitte L. Nacos
As we adhere to the stay-home regime, most of us have our ups and downs. Often, mood swings have very personal origins. During this Covid-19 crisis they are also brought on by accounts of heartbreaking deaths or miraculous recoveries, dispiriting or encouraging statistics, gloomy or optimistic sentiments about the future of this health emergency and its individual and collective economic costs.
This morning, during my one-and-a-half-hour walk, I thought how lucky I am not to live in New York City at this time but rather in one of its suburbs on Long Island. Whereas my children and grandchildren at the Upper West Side of Manhattan have not left their apartment for seven weeks, I have taken my daily walks except for a few bad whether days.
To be sure, I know the many advantages of living in the city, most of all, the shorter commute to and from work, concerts, opera, Broadway, Zoo, Botanical Garden, special restaurants, and so much more. But while I always preferred suburban life, I have never appreciated it more than in the present crisis.
This morning I started my walk around 7:00 a.m. There was no other walker on the route I take; I saw two moving cars besides some parked ones in the neighborhood. I saw dozens of running, jumping, and climbing squirrels, two approachable bunnies, five beautiful cardinals, a brown cat, and a multitude of other birds. When the sun peaked through the clouds, the red and yellow tulips in a flower bed opened up and stretched towards the sky.
Returning home, I saw a woman feeding a bunch of bird in her front yard. I harvested a few stems of chives that survived the mild winter in pots on my patio. Cut into small pieces this was the perfect herb to top slices of tomatoes on the cheese sandwich I planned to eat for breakfast.
My morning walks during the shut-down weeks are the same as they were in many months and years before. Same time of the day; same neighborhood, same route. But whereas these walks always energized me physically, today they invigorate me even more so spiritually. Instead of wondering whether life will return to normalcy—and when—I see somewhere in the distance the end of the crisis tunnel.
To be sure, this burst of optimism does not last the whole day. This day, I reviewed how extremists utilized or planned to use biological agents in the past. In 1993, members of the Japanese Aum Shinrikyo cult tried to aerosolize a liquid suspension of bacillus anthracis in order to launch an anthrax epidemic. Except for spreading foul odors in one part of Tokyo the effort was unsuccessful. In 1995, two members of the Minnesota Patriots Council were arrested for producing ricin (produced in the seeds of the castor oil plant) and planning to assassinate a deputy U.S. marshal who had served papers on one of them for tax violations. The anthrax spores contained in letters sent to U.S. media organizations and politicians shortly after the 9/11 attacks killed five and infected seventeen others people. Several of the victims were postal workers who handled those letters.
Now, I wonder whether the coronavirus’s killing spree around the world could inspire transnational and/or domestic extremists to weaponize viruses more successfully than extremists of the past.
Thankfully, there will be another walk tomorrow morning.
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