COVID-19, smoky air, blackouts and dead bats. Hang on, Fresno. We’ll get through this
Which mask do I bring?
The other day before leaving the house, an occurrence that has become less frequent lately, the question popped to mind.
My first instinct was to grab the homemade cloth face mask I’ve been wearing in public to be a good citizen in the coronavirus age.
On second thought, maybe an N95 mask was the better option. To filter the searing, sooty air enveloping Fresno and the central San Joaquin Valley before it enters my lungs.
COVID-19 versus PM 2.5 — quite the conundrum. One can make you deathly ill in a matter of days, the other over a period of years. Uncertain which mask to choose, I wound up taking both.
In 2020, you can never be too careful.
Fresnans, by and large, are a tough, hearty bunch. We’re accustomed to scorching summer weather and dirty air, a combination that would make most of our fellow Californians tap out after a day or two.
“The heat is oppressive,” my Bay Area father moans every time temperatures there approach 90 degrees.
“Dad, you have no idea,” I always reply.
But even on the Fresno scale, these past few weeks have been off the charts. Dare I say apocalyptic. Between the ongoing pandemic, constant 100-degree days, smoky air from hundreds of wildfires and the threat of rolling blackouts, you start to wonder whether we’re living out a chapter in the Book of Revelation.
It happened to me the moment I stepped outside Wednesday evening and saw a faint red orb overhead that wasn’t immediately recognizable.
Hang on a second, is that the sun?
At this point, there’s no telling what else 2020 will throw at us. Locusts? Earthquakes? Bubonic plague? Dead bats that we shouldn’t touch because we might catch rabies?
Only kidding about the locusts. (I hope.)
Back in early March, before any of us really knew what was in store, I wrote a column about social distancing (a new concept at the time) that contained a wisecrack about how introverts like myself have been practicing all our lives.
Five months and change later, the joke’s on me. Sitting home day after day, week after week, with windows closed, blinds drawn and the air conditioner running sure is monotonous. Every trip to the supermarket, Home Depot or a friend’s backyard pool becomes a temporary reprieve from staring at the same walls.
It’s enough to make someone batty. No wonder they’re falling from the sky.
Nectarine lends perspective
In times like these, a little perspective can go a long way. Thankfully, I gained some by reaching into the refrigerator (sorry PG&E) to grab a nectarine from the crisper drawer.
Taking a bite made me think of the orchard where that nectarine was grown and then the person who picked it. While I sit on my butt at the computer, fortunate to have a job that allows me to work from home, farm workers don’t have that option.
Thousands of them toil under the broiling sun, breathing air unfit for human lungs, hoping not to become the latest coronavirus statistic or bring the disease home with them. Just to eke out a meager existence in a country that largely ignores them — so people like me can have fresh produce in their refrigerators.
What about everyone else who spends their work days under the broiling sun? The construction workers who build houses and fix roads. The gardeners who tidy our yards with their annoying leaf blowers. The crews who maintain our parks. The supermarket employees who round up the shopping carts we leave in parking lots.
Bet those folks would enjoy the luxury of working in an air-conditioned home office, iced tea and nectarines within easy reach.
Easy to feel overwhelmed
Let’s not overlook the first responders. The police officers that respond when crimes are committed. The ambulance drivers that transport those in life-threatening emergencies. And, of course, the brave firefighters that risk their lives battling blazes in the harshest, most extreme conditions.
A few of them, including helicopter pilot Michael Fournier of Rancho Cucamonga, pay the ultimate sacrifice. He was piloting a helicopter near Coalinga helping battle a blaze when the aircraft when down. My heart goes out to his family and friends.
With everything we’re living through right now — the divisive political climate, the daily drumbeat of coronavirus cases and deaths, schools and churches closed, air that isn’t fit to breathe — it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. I sure do at times, even though there’s only one person (me) in my household that needs looking after.
It won’t be next week or next month, but there will be a day when we can leave our homes without worrying if we have the right mask. Our collective strength, as individuals, families and a community, will get us there. These dire days will pass.
I’m certain of that. But until then, remember, we’re Fresno tough. Times like this are the ultimate proof.
