My
physical therapist and I were discussing how much we are each willing to break
quarantine, now that we, like many others, are fully vaccinated. He, more
willing to get out and about than I, had been to in-person church at Easter,
while I stuck with virtual. His parting words were, “You got to get out more.
God’s got you.” A few days later a friend wrote that she agreed with me and
ended her message with what I presume is an old Arabic proverb: “Trust God, but
tie your camel to a tree.” To me, that says it all. I’ve spent a lot of time
tying my camel to trees.
In
truth, I tie that camel (okay, I’ll quit with that image) because I’m confused.
We are inundated with news of how wonderfully well President Biden’s vaccine
roll-out is going—way ahead of the schedule he predicted for his first hundred
days. And I am among the first to clap loudest and longest. But that statistic that
now one out of five is fully vaccinated? Try putting the word “Only” in front
of it: it means that four out of five people are walking around without full protection.
Apparently one-third of our population has had one shot—I wonder how many never
get that second one.
And I’m
assuming we still can’t hug, unless the huggee is also vaccinated. Which calls
into question all those newly vaccinated grandparents who are finally hugging grandchildren
after a year (call me guilty—I hugged one because she had covid a month earlier
and, as she said to me, was “full of antibodies”). Aside from the rare case
where a vaccinated person gets sick, if we hug unvaccinated grands, are we
putting them in danger? They are almost all, at least in my family, too young
to have been vaccinated. I haven’t heard a definitive answer about the
vaccinated as carriers of the virus. And how long is the vaccine good? Six
months? A year? So much still to be determined.
We get
advice from several sources, and I’m never sure what the CDC is saying.
Apparently, it’s all right to gather indoors with a small group of
vaccinated people but we should avoid large groups in enclosed spaces. Yet
domestic travel is safe—but they just ruled out planes, trains, and cars. And
we should avoid bars and restaurants that are open to full capacity (hello,
Texas!).
The
most sensible restaurant advice I’ve heard came from local journalist Bud
Kennedy who recommends eating on a patio or in a well-ventilated indoor
restaurant where they only seat every other table, staff is masked, and
customers are masked except when eating. Of course, that means you either check
it out as you walk in the door or call ahead and ask their mask and social distancing
policy. And in Fort Worth, and I imagine other cities, patios are a problem
because many of them are enclosed with ugly plastic to ward off the winter chill.
The result is no moving air and a space without ambiance. I suppose in summer
they’ll be enclosed for coolness. I’m on a search for open-air patios with
distanced seating. Suggestions welcome.
This
morning our minister talked about how emotional many people felt when they
worshipped in the sanctuary once again, the first time in 54 Sundays. And I
have read posts from many people who cried in relief when they got their second
vaccination. It’s like the vaccination wipes away all the tension and
frustration of the past year. But as Dr. Fauci cautions, we must not get
complacent too soon. There is hope on the horizon, but we have to hold on.
Here
comes that camel again. Now where’s the nearest tree?
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