Under the baobab: Pandemic offers reminder of past grief we’ve made it through
There is a time for everything, and a season for every purpose under the heavens ... a time to be born and a time to die.
-Ecclesiastes 3
In this time of pandemic many have died, leaving many to grieve our parents, children, siblings, spouses, friends, neighbors. Mourning for them all, we weep for each other. We went to a family held service for our friend and colleague, Harry Zimbler. It was standing room only. Harry died from a different disease — cancer — but we were reminded of our own mortality in this time of pandemic.
I am going to die. Sooner or later we all will. I have been blessed with three score and ten and I am thankful. But there were over 600,000 of our fellow Americans who were not blessed but cursed. They needlessly suffered because of incompetence, ignorance and misguided “leadership.” Now we are at the threshold of a third wave which could potentially slaughter more, even though we have the scientific means to stop it. For those of us past a certain age, this is the third time of epidemic dying in our lifetimes. In the ‘60s, 50,000 Americans and over 1 million Vietnamese were killed during the Vietnam War. We buried our friends and mourned with their families. The Vietnam War was a tragic misadventure that also grew from misguided leadership.
In the later part of the last century and first decade of this one, more than 700,000 Americans died of HIV/AIDS. Around the world more than 70 million people contracted the disease; 35 million people died. We nursed and comforted the victims. Then we buried them, and mourned with their families. Scientists say AIDS first arrived in New York in 1971 and San Francisco in 1976. The AIDS epidemic officially began in 1981. President Reagan did not publicly mention it until 1985. Eight thousand people had already died during his silence.
“…a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak”
There was little silence and a lot of speaking at the final public input meeting for the proposed Community Oversight Board (COB). Under the patient and disciplined leadership of Jesse Barlow the discussion became loud and contentious. The room was packed with supporters and disgruntled opponents of the COB. The opponents stormed out of the meeting. The council is scheduled to vote on the ordinance establishing the COB at its Aug. 16 meeting. The best thing to come out of the meeting was that at least all contesting sides were in the same room.
“... a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance”
Brothers and sisters, after much weeping we are beginning to laugh again. The Penn’s Woods Music Festival is starting up Wednesday. As a precursor to the Route 45 Getaways event, Ronnie Burrage brought his group, Holographic Principle, to Pine Grove Hall for some welcome and refreshing jazz. The Hall’s owner, Liz Jones, has created an intimate and innovative venue for grown-ups. At times I felt I was in a club in the West Village of New York. Some other local folks were joyously out clubbing for the first time since the pandemic: retired vice-provost Grace Hampton and her husband Nadhir, who recently returned from Ghana; Gary Abdullah, program coordinator of the MLK Plaza Committee; Savita Iyer, senior editor of the Penn Stater with her husband, Farshid Ahrestani; retired professor and local drummer impresario Andrew Jackson, his wife, Victoria, and son. There were two sold-out shows and good time was had by all.
We will make it through these times. It is promised:
“... a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.”