Some things money can't buy in pandemic

This post was published in the Wilson Times May 15, 2020

Congress has appropriated more than $2 trillion to compensate for the loss of jobs and income caused by the COVID-19 pandemic. The spending is unprecedented, greater even than the recovery spending after mortgage markets collapsed in the 2008-09 Great Recession.

Among those receiving funds from Congress’ pandemic spending are laid-off workers, businesses unable to pay workers, individual taxpayers (at the rate of $1,200 each or $2,400 per couple) and big corporations, which lobbied Congress and the Trump administration to let them in on the largesse, too. Even state governments, usually tight-fisted and operating under a balanced budget mandate, have opened their coffers to provide funding to people and businesses insufficiently helped by federal money.

Now, nearly four months after the COVID-19 virus became a household phrase and shoppers panicked and cleaned shelves of toilet paper and other essential items, elected officials are wondering whether this unprecedented spending will be enough to compensate all (or nearly all) Americans for what they lost because of a virus neither they nor their government agencies could predict or subdue.

There are other losses besides the monetary ones. People are dying because of this pandemic. Earlier this week, deaths from COVID-19 topped 80,000 in the United States. No one thinks the virus will stop there.

Each death is a tragedy. Each needless death resulting from poor healthcare, lack of insurance, uncaring others who ignored precautions such as washing hands, cleaning counters, social distancing and wearing face masks, or stay-at-home orders is doubly tragic. Nothing can bring back those who were lost in the pandemic, and that leaves a vacuum felt for years by friends and relatives.

 

Pandemic rules make each death more tragic. Funerals are either limited or forbidden. No one can get a proper sendoff, a comforting farewell, a shared mourning because of limits on crowd sizes.

High school and college seniors are being denied the usual capstone of their studies, a graduation ceremony. Although high school and college leaders have provided recognitions of their graduating class, a neighborhood parade or a sign in the front yard just isn’t the same as that walk across the stage. Some college athletes are missing their last chance at stardom.

Even more disappointed are engaged couples who have planned a wedding months in advance, put down payments on reception catering and venues, plus honeymoon trips. Restrictions on crowds and uncertainties about travel will force them to postpone their ceremony and honeymoon.

Similarly, families who planned vacation trips a year in advance (not an unusual practice) have had to cancel their long-awaited travel, hope for refunds and deal with it if refunds are declined. For many, a 2020 trip was to be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, a bucket list item. It may be possible to shift some trips to a year later, but for some people, this year’s vacation loss is permanent. Several years ago, a friend with a debilitating and ultimately fatal disease scheduled a series of trips to check off his bucket list of places he had always wanted to see. In 2020, such once-in-a-lifetime trips won’t be possible.

For some people of a certain age, a dream trip canceled this year might be a last chance. A year from now, they might not have the mobility, strength or stamina for such a trip.

We all know that there are some things money can’t buy. There are some things for which no government stimulus can compensate: a life ended too soon, a life-mark ceremony postponed, a long-nurtured dream denied, a life-changing opportunity canceled. Stimulus money can’t make up for the disappointments, the postponements, the tragedies this pandemic has wrought.

Travel is exhausting but worth it

Here are a few observations from our quickie weekend trip to Grand Rapids, Mich., for the wedding of nephew Mark:

• Airport security is pretty ridiculous. You have to be at the airport two hours before the flight. Even on Labor Day weekend Friday at RDU, a very busy airport, we ended up with more than an hour to kill after getting through security. On our return flight on Sunday, the airport was nearly deserted. The Transportation Security Agency agents outnumbered passengers by about eight-to-one. Apparently just to amuse themselves, an agent announced that he needed to open my bag and look inside. He opened the bag, took out a container of talcum powder and announced he'd have to test the powder. He shook some powder out of the original manufacturer's container, releasing enough powder to kill everyone in the airport if it had been anthrax, and carefully dropped two liquids onto the powder he had captured on a little square of paper. "Looks good," he said, then took a plastic probe and ran it through my suitcase before sending the bag back through the X-ray machine again. The whole process must have relieved their Sunday morning boredom.

• We tend to think of where we live or where we were reared as the best place to be, but I found myself intrigued with the Grand Rapids area. Major roads have no development — commercial or residential — abutting the roadway. It's all set back behind trees and other greenery. A wide sidewalk paralleled the road, even rural roads, giving people a place to walk or bicycle. What a great idea! Michigan seems designed for outdoor activities — kayaking, canoeing, biking, running, etc. And the topography is beautiful — forested rolling hills similar to what you might find in the Morganton or Mount Airy area. Of course, we were there in September, not February. I suspect the winters are brutal.

• When first invited to the wedding in Grand Rapids, my first thought was "home of the Gerald Ford Presidential Library." We didn't make it to the presidential library, nor did we make it to the famed gardens my wife wanted to visit. A two-day whirlwind trip left almost no time for personal activities.

• For the first time in more than 15 years, I rented a car. The agency gave us a "free upgrade" to a larger sedan instead of the compact we had reserved. I got to drive a Hyundai Sonata, which was roomy and drove beautifully. From my couple of days' experience, I'd say the Sonata is a rational alternative to an Accord or a Camry.

• Trips are exhausting and discombobulating. The rush to get to places on time, the unfamiliar surroundings, the anxieties, the scheduled activities all combine to tire you out. Being one place one minute and a thousand miles away three hours later plays tricks on your brain and your body. I'm convinced that humans were not meant to travel like that. Even a weekend car trip of a couple of hundred miles wears me out.

• There are occasions when it's important to "be there." Saturday's wedding was one of those occasions. Although I gulped at the distance and expense when I first learned of these wedding plans, there was never any question that we would go. Weddings are joyous occasions for bride and groom, and it is essential for them to be launched into their new life by those who have played important roles in their original, separate lives. You need to be there to see them off and to keep them close for the rest of all of your lives. Some of my greatest regrets in my life have to do with the funerals I missed. They were too far away; I had too many other things to do; the timing didn't fit my schedule. I missed final goodbyes to beloved aunts and uncles and cousins and a grandfather. At the same time, I missed helping support and feeling the love of grieving family members. It has been said that distant family members too often only see each other at weddings and funerals. Don't miss any opportunities.

A marriage that defies the odds

The wedding 39 years ago today could hardly have been less promising. He was a month shy of completing a college degree, and the omen of a low draft number was hanging over his head. She would give up her collegiate ambitions and sublimate her goals to his. They had known each other only a few months. Few would have bet on the longevity of their relationship.

But there was more there than the outward appearances would have shown. "Do you believe in a love at first sight?" the Beatles had sung just a few years before, and neither of this couple would have replied positively. Yet something had clicked between them when they first met. Within days or weeks, they knew. They just knew. They could spend their life — not lives; one singular life — together and be very happy. Or they could spend their lives separately and be miserable.

Here is what the odds that sunny April day that ended in thunderstorms didn't show: A good marriage is the embodiment of divine grace — an undeserved favor. Two people grow into the realization that they don't deserve each other but that they are better as one than they could ever be apart. Now that marriage that began so uncertainly has lasted twice as long as she had lived up to that Friday afternoon in 1971. Today is a wedding anniversary, but it is also the birthday celebration of a new life, one far better and far longer than I could have imagined 39 years ago. We have reared children and welcomed grandchildren; we have survived loss and disappointment; we have comforted each other; we have encouraged each other. We have occasionally disagreed but never fought.

"Grow old along with me" said Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and we have done that. Today, 39 years into this new life, I can only hope to have many more years of sharing a life with the woman who made me whole.