So…I’m sure that everybody gets the reference, right? Oh yeah, we all go around quoting Shakespeare to all and sundry who will listen. Anyway, what came to me as I sat down to take quill in hand to write about what’s going on, was this famous line from the Bard, encouraging his soldiers to take heart, make the great effort yet again and emerge from battle victorious. The oft-quoted line is, “Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more….” Struck me that it might be a propos of the situation we’re in here.
Some troglodyte up in Wisconsin is apparently urging his followers (the ones with their knuckles dragging on the ground) to head out, defy directives to stay away from social situations, refuse to let “the government” keep them from doing whatever they d—-d well please. Sounds like a real healthy attitude and concern for one’s fellow man (and woman), doesn’t it? Lord knows that “the government” has plenty to answer for that’s not been particularly helpful in a few pretty desperate and/or important situations but a piecemeal approach to something as widespread and worldwide as what we’re dealing with here is just not rational (Not that government has a corner on rationality, that’s for sure). We all need to pull up our socks and get down to pulling together to take care of the ones among us who are the most needful. If that means heeding the directions of government scientists and public health officials, so be it.
In the meantime…what to do , what to do?
I’ve been out supervising the demolition/excavation going on on State St. where the long-rumored Taco Bell is supposed to be going. Wish that I could have got my hands on some of the rocks in the site. They were old buildings; they had stone basement walls. They also had some old timbers, old and long and notched; too bad someone couldn’t have salvaged either the stone or the wood but that’s not often done, nowadays. It’s all “Wham Bam! Thank you, Ma’am” as the bulldozers and big scoopers move in and start shoving things around.
Speaking of which, the guys operating the big shovels are pretty skilled, the way they can pick up just the pile of whatever or the slab of whatever else and move it up, up, up and then down into a truck or a hole. I watched them fix the tread on one of the smaller treadded earthmovers (Didn’t look wild enough to be a Bobcat, but it sure was no kitten); saw somebody shovelling dirt out of the tread of another big one. Fun watching. You know the saying, “I love work; I can watch it for hours.” That’s me. Anyway, no burritos were harmed in this construction, but we’ll just have to wait ‘til it’s done.
And back to the other topic of discussion–at a distance, of course–the disruption (and some real suffering on the parts of some individuals) of the Covid-19 virus situation. My niece just got back from a celebratory hiking trip to Peru (Not sure what was being celebrated, but I guess that I don’t have to) and caught the LAST plane out of the country; her mother was relieved, so was her grandmother, so was I. A lot of that stuff going around. And on another note , Bob Dyer in the AB-J noted that , with the most recent closings, we’re about three weeks away from knowing what everybody’s REAL hair color is.
I found it intriguing that a number of artisan distillers–not modern-day moonshiners, they are completely legal–are getting into the hand sanitizer business as an in-demand side hustle. See, they’re making alcohol, right? So, say, they tool back a little on making their usual product, which is rum or vodka or whatever, get an official recipe from the government, adding, say, hydrogen peroxide, glycerin, water, fragrance–Presto-Change-O, you’ve got your 80-proof hand sanitizer. The notion of fending off the novel corona virus with a cousin of Jack Daniels just tickles me. Back in the day, of course, when Prohibition was the law of the land, stuff like that was not all that unusual; guys would buy the hair preparation called bay rum and drink that, if they couldn’t find a bootlegger in the neighborhood. Most probably could.find one. I had a kid in class once tell me that her grandma had been one of the locals in that particular service occupation. And, supposedly, the Baptist Church which was located where the Veterans’ Memorial stands now, was blown up when its minister railed on a little too long and loud about the evils of strong drink.
Heads up! Arbor Day is coming. Plant more trees. The SWCD has a bunch of reasonably-priced trees and shrubs available. I bought a bat house; it’s to try and persuade the little buggers to stay in their own place and not mine.
Hang in there, everybody. This too shall pass.
