Standing on shifting ground

I think many of us feel we are standing on shifting ground, the earth beneath our feet so uncertain that we have quite lost our balance. Schools and churches are closed, sports events and conferences cancelled, travelled advised against. Even grocery shopping sounds a bit perilous for some of us.

My mom always told me some good comes out of all bad situations, and we are seeing that today. Someone online pointed out that the closings show that we are coming together, as communities, as a nation, to protect each other. When my church announced a two-week closing, the minister wrote that it did so “prayerfully and carefully” because the health of the congregation was most important. When Left Coast Crime, a California writer’s conference, was cancelled at the end of the first day by order of the county, many attendees turned down their registration refund and donated it to the sponsoring group that had worked hard for three years and incurred many debts to sponsor the meeting.

Of course, there are the price gougers out there. I have heard of $20,000 airline tickets from Europe and $150 bottles of Purrell. Those folks are always among us, but most Americans are rising to the occasion and meeting this crisis with common sense and caring for others.

And still life goes on. I spoke at a luncheon yesterday for the Arlington Woman’s Club, a lovely bunch of women who apparently like to read and talk about books. The mood was upbeat, and you’d almost not have known there was national panic about COVID-19. But there was an undertone. The president of the group said to me, “We may have to quit meeting. Most of us are of the at-risk age.”

One of the things I worry about is whether or not I am making a contribution to the common good. Over the years people have tried to reassure me that my young-adult books foster the habit of reading in children, and my adult books bring much-needed pleasure and distraction from reality and its frequent difficulties. Still I often feel a bit frivolous.

Yesterday I unknowingly gave these women a gift. I told them school children always ask, “How much money do you make?” and “How old are you?” I said the answer to the first is “Not as much as you think,” but for the second question, I said, “I’m proud to tell you that I am eighty-one and still writing.” My audience cheered, clapped, and laughed. Afterward. Sue Hogg, president of the group and a wonderful woman with a great sense of the joy of life, said to me, “You gave them hope. You told them that they too can do something at our age.” Her words really encouraged me.

I am not an easy speaker—I work myself into a tizzy beforehand, sure that I will embarrass if not disgrace myself. But usually, with good preparation, I’m okay once I get going. But I was a bit dismayed yesterday to come away with four new invitations to speak. Not sure I can screw up my courage that many times.

Friend Subie and her lovely sister, Diana, went with me to the lunch, and an old friend among the listeners made me laugh by referring to them as my “staff.” When I told Subie I had four new invitations, her response echoed my thought: “I’m not sure I can do that many.” Subie and Diana hauled books for me and sold them, and several women said now they were going to read more of my books. I left in a glow.

But I have the feeling that’s my last public appearance for some time. That ground has shifted, and I’ll be pretty much staying in my cottage. How about you? How is the virus impacting your life?