The year the world shut down
Theatre Three in Port Jefferson is one of the many businesses that have had to close during the coronavirus pandemic. Credit: Newsday/John Paraskevas
By William F. B. O'Reilly@wfborEach day brings new and terrifying speculation. It’s as if we want to frighten ourselves with the unknown and carve “2020” into our consciousness as a delineating mark in material history.
The economy is forever changed, we’re told. We’ll never shake hands again. Cash, that prolific germ spreader, will disappear. Offices and physical universities will be a thing of the past, as will be business trips, the family airline vacation, afternoons at malls, mass sporting arenas, movie theaters ...
It’s all very anxiety inducing. But it’s probably untrue, at least most of it.
The truth is that we have no idea what the world will look like in six months, never mind six years, but it will probably look a lot like it did six weeks ago physically — the sun will rise in the east and set in the west; grass will grow, birds will chirp and children will jump joyfully at the sight of popsicles on hot summer days.
It’s us that will be different, though, and not just from the loss of friends. Of that we can be sure. In just a few short weeks, we’ve been changed, reminded of our vulnerability to nature, to God, to the universe, to whatever one wants to call it. In that, we’re living in normal times — experiencing something as old as time itself. It’s only new to us.
History is filled with wars and pandemics, but they skip decades when we’re fortunate. Americans have been lucky, for three generations now. In that time we’ve willfully discarded the lessons of our forebearers. Now we are reminded.
There’s an arrogance that came from the security we enjoyed. We came to expect it — to demand it as a right — and the past six weeks has rendered it laughable. Just a taste of what could be has shaken us to our core. It is a gift wrapped in fear for those willing to open it.
There was a gratitude in the eyes of our parents and grandparents that has gone missing in ours. My father had it. He’d seen his parents go broke during the Great Depression; retrieved pieces of friends on European battlefields. It’s taken 56 years and this coronavirus to understand that he got on his knees each night not to ask for things but to say thank you.
There was a reason he saved his money.
All of us can say the same of their ancestors. They knew.
An effective antiviral drug will come along soon enough, God willing, and life as we knew it will begin again. Armed with temporary protection, we’ll return to movie theaters in time and probably even shake hands again. But beneath it all will be visceral awareness and humility; gratitude for the smallest things, if we’ve learned anything at all.
One wonders how long it will last. Is today’s world disruption enough to notch the souls of our children? Will they have the look our grandparents did or will that take something worse? Will they tell their own children about the year the world shut down and beg them to count their blessings?
We are empty without gratitude. One prays the answer is yes.
William F. B. O'Reilly is a consultant to Republicans.
William F. B. O'Reilly is a Newsday Opinion columnist. He works as a corporate and political communications consultant. He works with clients on the Republican side of the aisle.
