You had better prepare for an August that will look an awful lot like April
It doesn’t matter if you’re a cat person, for the purposes of this exercise you are a dog.
When explorer Robert Falcon Scott made his bid to become the first person to reach the South Pole in 1910, he and his team used sled dogs to trek over the ice and snow.
When the journey reached an empty horizon, with no visible point of destination, the dogs became unmotivated, listless and did not run fast.
Once the dogs saw any point of destination, they were motivated, focused and hurried.
We are all currently sled dogs on this expedition across COVID-19’s endless terrain. Right now is a good time to acknowledge we are currently pulling a sled in the fog towards a spec on the horizon we cannot even see.
Anyone who says we can see a destination is a liar, a politician, and they are not as smart as a dog.
Some 90 days ago we kept saying, “When this is all over” and, well, we’re still here. Only now the crisis is no longer toilet paper, but cloth masks.
Personally, three months ago I set the mental finish line as June 15. I blame my doctor who gave me this advice, but at least he didn’t charge me which is a win as much as it is a surprise.
When our schools began gently throwing out that the regular fall semester was in jeopardy of returning to the way we are accustomed, most of us either did not listen, or we disregarded the message.
In March, the idea that the NFL season and college football would not proceed as scheduled was inconceivable, regardless of whatever model said otherwise.
We are now approximately 25 days away from an August looking a lot like March, April and May.
That was when spring break turned into the spring break from a Saw sequel.
Zoom classes. Projects around the house. Waiting ‘til 5 p.m. to drink alcohol without guilt. Or less guilt. TikTok videos. Completing puzzles. Bored games. (And, no, that’s not a misspelling.) Walking the dog five times a day on a trail so crowded it looked more like I-35. Online chat sessions with friends you had not seen in years. Working out at home.
We are one week deep into July and I have taught myself how to juggle and perform card tricks. I am learning how to play the harmonica. I work out often. I’ve caulked the shower stall. Twice. I’ve let my daughter cut my hair. I learned how to make a calzones, donuts, perfected fried chicken, and there is a beer-making kit to conquer. I also taught myself how to sew.
Where are my merit badges?
Time for another list. We are better to prepare for an extension of this journey than to celebrate a second premature arrival.
As badly as we want to step out of the car and stretch our legs, we were never there regardless of what “Phase” we were told we were in.
This does not matter if you are a Republican, a Democrat or a Libertarian. This is where we are.
I hate wearing a mask, but I’ll do it.
I am sick of writing “canceled,” or “canceling,” because I still don’t know how many times the letter “l” goes into either word.
I am sick of house projects, but I can do a few more.
If our kids have to do a little more online learning, they’ll live.
I don’t know the answer, and you don’t either. Neither do a lot of people who are trying to figure this all out, and want us to reach a destination safely.
No elected, or campaigning, official wants to be here.
Did we panic? We always do.
Did we screw it all up? We always will.
Even though we can’t see the destination, we need to just keep running and deal with it.
If you wonder how Robert Falcon Scott’s journey ended, glad you asked.
Upon reaching the South Pole in early 1912, Scott and his dwindling team saw that they were beat to the spot by Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen. Scott and his five men began the return home, and en route they all starved and/or froze to death.
Not sure if they were wearing masks, but this alone is a compelling reason to be a cat rather than a dog.
This story was originally published July 7, 2020 at 5:00 AM.
