My Brother

 

December 4, 2020 the world changed forever. Some never noticed, others might have felt a blip in the energy around them and for many others the world will never be the same again. On that day I lost my brother. The demons that plagued him for much too long attacked when he was most vulnerable. They don’t fight fair and work in the darkest places of the human soul. They won the Earthly battle and the world will be less bright. Friday the 4th was one moment in time and I believe one moment should not define my brother. Frank was human, had flaws, made mistakes, and fought daily with the person he saw in the mirror. But he was a good man, a good person, a good husband, a good father, a good brother, and a good son.

My brother was the second oldest in our family of four siblings and the oldest son. He was three years my senior and oftentimes was my hero. I was the runt of the family, small, awkward, dorky, a bookworm, and an easy target. Growing up I was picked on often for being all the things I mentioned  and more. Frank was the big brother every little sister could want. He was big, strong, teased me like crazy, but always protected me with a fierceness only understood by big brothers. In grade school he squared off on more than one occasion to protect me from bullies. He always protected me, made sure bullies apologized and spent time in detention for his efforts. I adored him.  

For a time when we were both in elementary school, we lived on a small ranchette outside of town. It was the type of place that sparked creativity, imagination and hours and hours of time outside. When we moved out there my sister started junior high and my other brother was little and not yet school aged. My Dad taught school in town and my Mom was working in town, meaning every school day they loaded up my sister and baby brother and headed in. Frank and I would get ready and head to our country school, about three miles from the ranch house. During the winter, when the roads were blocked and the bus couldn’t make it to the house, we would bundle up and snowmobile to school. A few times we even rode our pony. Being well before all-day kid TV, cell phones, electronic games, and even regular phones; we shared a party-line with several other ranches in the area, we learned to entertain ourselves. Getting home from school, we would rush through chores, so we had time to play. We made up games that were ridiculous,  with rules that constantly changed, ran wild and laughed a ton. Many of our indoor games, during cold weather, were serenated by my crush from my parent’s era of music. Fabian was very handsome to my little six, and seven year old, self. It drove my brother crazy when I played the same 45 record over and over, and over again; Turn me Loose, Hold That Tiger and Mug Mates. He was easy going though, and rolled with it.  

More than a couple of times our activities could have landed us in very, hot water. Our old ranch house had, what seemed at the time, to be a huge, very long rec room. The front door was on one end of the rec room and a large couch was at the other end. I don’t quite remember how the game started, but we discovered how much fun it was, with Fabian crooning in the background, to start by the front door, run as fast as we could, jump on the arm of the couch and flip onto the cushions. It was a perfect way to pass the time when we couldn’t be outside. That old couch weathered hundreds of jumps, falls and bounces, until it didn’t. One cold day, mid-way through an afternoon of couch jumping, I bounded off after a very successful flip. Frank was hot on my heels. He jumped, flew, bounced and CRACK! Our eyes grew to the size of saucers and we both went, “Uh Oh.” Like all kids we didn’t want to get in trouble, so began to think of potential fixes before the rest of the family showed up. The first, most obvious thought was, maybe they won’t notice. We stepped back, looked and went, “Yea, they’ll notice.” Deciding to look underneath to see if maybe we could put something under it was a brilliant next step. Thankfully it looked like a clean break right in the middle. Maybe, if we found something that was just about the same height as the legs we might get away with it. We scoured the house, trying several different options, watching the clock and panicking as the seconds ticked by. Finally, we thought about blocks. Running to my brothers’ room I grabbed a couple little blue square blocks. With our fingers crossed, Frank lifted the end of the couch, I placed the blocks right at the break point and he gently set it down. We stepped back and sighed, you couldn’t tell.  The blocks were the perfect height at the skirt from the couch covered them up. We gingerly stepped away from the couch, like it was a rabid dog, and said nothing. For those that are wondering, we did not get caught.

Another favorite game was to run from our faithful basset hounds, Sam and Charles. We would start at the house, get them excited, and then take off behind the house, down the fence line that separated the courtyard from a small pasture, climb up some wood and boxes, jump over the fence, land in a play yard and do it all over again. The fence was a 10 foot windbreak fence so we had to be a little careful with how we landed. Frank was bigger and faster, but I held my own staying as close to his heels as possible. Sam and Charles would give chase, barking, tails wagging, tripping on their ears and loving every minute of it. One brisk fall day we set off for a good round of chase.  The sky was grey, the light was dim and it was chilly so we had on our coats. We made a couple laps without incident and then . . .  Frank made it along the back of the fence, climbed up and jumped over. I  ran, climbed up, jumped over and my coat slid over a fence plank. I was caught. Too short to reach anything to boost myself I couldn’t move and swung back and forth like a pendulum. I called Frank, who was already headed toward the house. He turned around and in appropriate big brother fashion, burst out laughing. He walked back and I thought he was going to help me down. Nope. He grinned, gave me a slight nudge, and started laughing again as I swung back and forth. The dogs had made their way back around and were underfoot, tails wagging enjoying the whole thing. I hung, periodically getting a nudge from my brother and an interested look from the dogs, until they started to bark. Realizing my folks were on the road toward the house, Frank quickly climbed up and boosted me off the fence, all while whispering a familiar phrase for anyone with siblings, “Don’t tell Mom and Dad.”

Frank always had my back, even in the littlest of things. My active imagination, something that has helped me become a writer now, provided times where I conjured fantastical creatures in my mind. One time, after reading The Elves and the Shoemaker, too many times, I swore I saw an elf running around the corner in our rec room.  I confided in Frank and he teased me a little bit, but never made me feel bad. He said, “If you thought you saw an elf, it was probably an elf.” In my little seven-year-old mind I didn’t want my elf to be hungry, so that night decided to leave part of my supper in a drawer for him. My brother, with a very  large appetite, thought it was a great idea. At supper, I snuck part of my pork chop off my plate and left it in the drawer. In all innocence I asked my brother if he thought the elf would know where to find the food. Frank assured me he would know. Waking up early the next morning I ran to check the drawer. To my delight and surprise, the pork chop was gone. I shared the wonderful news with my brother, who was not surprised. His comment was, “See, you did see an elf.”

    Our bond continued as we grew, and our lives changed. He went off to the Army and wrote me every single week. I grew up a little more and was ecstatic when he came back. When I was in college, I would bother him at work between classes. As a manager first at Ideal and then Northridge I would pop in, lounging in a chair or on his desk and talk until I had to leave for my next class. We shared stories, challenged each other’s thoughts, and thought about the future. It was during one of those conversations that he brought up the beautiful, brunette checker at Ideal. He wandered over to the store often to grab one little thing or another and strategically tried to get in her check-out line. Finally, after hemming and hawing for weeks he got the gumption to ask her out. Not to sound clique, but the rest was history. My brother was smitten. They began dating, I believe, in September, he proposed on Thanksgiving and they were married in February. Their romance was a whirlwind and I watched my big brother fall head over heels in love!! Terry was his heart and soul, grounding him and helping him to see his own goodness. I remember watching him when we went to see her sing as the Little Mermaid in the Centennial Singers program. He was all eyes and pride watching her sing. He had complete adoration and love for his Terry Jo.

Frank and I were blessed, when he returned from the Army, to follow a similar timeline with milestones in our lives. He and Terry were married a year before Jim and I and we made incredible memories as young married couples together. Trips to Breckinridge, sharing a condo, playing games and skiing. Dinners at each other’s houses, a few drinks and dancing like goofs to old songs. Fishing trips, to catfish at night while the rain pounded on our tents. Playing cards by lantern light waiting for the rain to let up just enough to fish. All of this was flavored with his ever-present grin, his wild humor and laughter.

When Frank and Terry started a family, I watched my brother fall in love all over again. There was such pride and the look of being completely humbled when he held Ben for the first time. Those feelings grew exponentially with each kiddo. He loved Ben, Josh, Sarah, and Rachel with everything he was. Every conversation he talked about how proud he was of them. When the boys were little, he would bring them by trick-or-treating, all of them dressed up. We got to babysit and share in his love for his children.  

Frank and my husband were incredible friends and would spend hours and days fishing together. Frank would come into the house, “What’s up, Jim Bob Kelly Sue?”, his favorite thing to call Jim. Frank introduced Jim to ice fishing for the first time and Jim knew it was the one time he could fish and not come home on time without getting in trouble. They hunted together and Jim marveled at Frank's ability to scale a mountain straight up, walk around the backside, hunt, and haul out an animal all in a short period of time. He was strong and in perpetual motion.  

My brother had an incredible appetite. Our cook at our country school adored Frank and would make extra food, just for him. I remember one-time, he sat down at lunch and ate 26 pieces of chicken. As long as he continued to eat, Mrs. Beidleman brought it out. He was comfortable in my home and would walk in, give me a hug and go straight to the refrigerator. Finding leftovers, he would fix himself a plate, heat them up and then start to visit as he ate. I loved the comfort level that prompted that and the fact that he would clear my fridge of leftovers.

Even as our lives changed, we saw each other often and talked on the phone regularly. We covered theology, politics, life, kids, laughed at stories and grew learning something new from each other. When we talked he always paused and genuinely wanted to know how I was, how Jim was and how the kids were. We attended events for our kids and always seemed to end up poking each other, whispering goofy things as we cheered and celebrated our kiddos. He loved my boys as fiercely as he loved his own. He was proud of their accomplishments and made sure they knew it.  

Frank was a passionate fisherman and would fish until they stopped biting. Sometimes it would mean hours or sometimes a day or two before they stopped biting. Terry was a saint, recognizing and supporting his passion. She understood that a set time for him to be home when he fished was nearly impossible. He shared his love of fishing with his kids and shared moments on the lake with each of them.

Frank was strong and could hike a mountain without a break. He was top in his class in the Army earning medals and awards for his dedication and focus. He would be dropped in the middle of a field, in the middle of the night and he would always be the first back to base. He lived life with a full, open throttle. His heart was bigger than the state of Texas, always being the first person to offer help. He would give you the shirt off his back, his shoes or anything he thought you might need. His smile warmed rooms up and his laughter was contagious. In business he always went above and beyond working tirelessly for everyone who was lucky to do business with him. He didn’t judge and always wanted everyone to feel comfortable. He usually loved people where they were, without expecting them to be something they weren’t. He loved his family with everything he was. His faith was strong and was evident in every aspect of life. Frank was larger than life.

I have already cried more tears than I knew I had, missing him dearly in the few days he has been gone. I think ahead and know I will miss his presence when I am navigating hospital stints with my parents, realizing I won’t have him to lean on, take walks with or help with Mom and Dad. I will miss his calls and how he asked about what was going on in my life and really wanted to know. I will miss him calling me Shanny and Scrappy Do, teasing me for being little. I will miss his ability to love with no judgement and no expectations, just pure love and acceptance. I will miss him every single day. Tears will sneak up and choke me and my heart will ache for a long, long time. I will reach for my phone 1,000 times to call him about something silly and I will see him in places he used to be. I will miss his voice, his hugs, his pokes and him squaring off to pick on me. I will miss how he teased my boys and hugged on my husband. My heart hurts that he will never get the signed copy of my book that he was anxiously waiting for or that he will miss so many milestones. My heart cries for Terry, Ben, Josh, Sarah and Rachel and for our entire family. My mind stutters when I think memories of Frank stopped on December 4, 2020.

I believe life is never measured by the house or neighborhood you live in, the car you drive or the things you have. I believe success is not measured by the zeros on a paycheck or how expensive your clothes are. Success and life are better measured by the people you loved and the lives you impacted. Frank loved fiercely and impacted thousands of lives. He was many amazing things, so much more than his humanity and the final time the demons succeeded.

Now, as the initial shock settles and my brother carries his smile and charm to the gates of heaven, I think of Frank. I cried for the anguish and darkness he was fighting in the final moments and agonized that he was alone. I realized in my heart, though, he was not alone in his last moments. I imagine, The Lord cradled my brother, even if Frank didn’t realize it. Tears streamed down The Lord’s face as he knew and felt the battle Frank fought. He rocked my brother, hoping not to lose his child in the Earthly realm. My brother is now in heaven.

In the peace after the storm, I see the Lord pulling Frank aside and inviting him to fish in His favorite spot. Knowing my brother better than anyone, they sit side by side in a boat with their lines in the water. The water is still as glass with only an occasional ripple and the sky is brilliant. Fish swim around the boat, peering out occasionally. Understanding my brother, the Lord ensures the fish aren’t biting until after they can have a conversation. They talk, they fish, they cry and for the first time my brother sees himself through the eyes of the Lord. My brother is finally at peace. I love you Frank.

Fear

Stepping into the quiet pre-dawn I smiled at the dark sky. The new moon had darkness sneaking into  every crack and crevice. Breathing deeply I embraced the beginning of a new week knowing it meant new possibilities, new opportunities and new hope. Setting my tracker I let the blackness engulf me. The stars were bright, beautiful, and wonderful companions in the black ink of the day. Eight solo miles loomed on my horizon and I welcomed the time, the distance and the solitude. My steps were quiet as they danced with the asphalt, periodically kicking a stray stone. Hugging the center line of each road, I celebrated the familiar slope of each section of my route. The yellow and orange of streetlights shined like beacons between shadows and the stoplights welcomed me with their familiar rhythm. The route was a favorite, run hundreds upon hundreds of times. The hills were challenging, but offered brilliant views of the vast night sky. 

My mind wandered while keeping time to the music. It was a glorious morning and I was thankful to be running. Last week I had set out on this route, enjoying the morning, the run and the solitude. The music was perfect, the air was warm and the moon was peeking out. Just shy of my half-way mark, another early morning riser felt it necessary to harass me. Forging uphill on one of our main streets it had been quiet. Many times I can run the entire main street with only a car or two to share the morning. Passing through one of the major intersections I noticed headlights coming behind me. Always running against traffic, even when everyone was still sleeping, allowed me time to adjust if people were coming at me in the same lane, and gave me space for people coming behind me in the other lane. Watching the lights bounce off other cars and signs I noticed it was going slowly, almost too slowly for my comfort. Giving up the center I scooted more to the middle of the lane, even with the median. Watching from the corner of my eye a pickup pulled alongside, on the other side of the road, and paced me for blocks. His window was down and I knew he was saying things to me, but I didn't engage. He crept along pacing every step and when the median opened up, he sped up, swerved and stopped in front of me. I sidestepped, hit the sidewalk and continued, aware of his vehicle and what he looked like. I could hear his truck coming again and he paced me for another five blocks before continuing on.  My heart spiked and I could remember fear bouncing around in my mind. Despite the desire to be slightly hysterical, I chose to respond without fear. I searched escape routes in my mind, thought of the last place I had seen a police officer. I didn't stop, I didn't engage and I didn't show fear. My heart climbed back down out of my ears to find a normal rhythm as his taillights got further away and a local patrol car drove by. I didn't stop my run, I didn't call for a ride and I got up the very next morning to run again. Fear had no hold on me. I wouldn't allow it. 

When I first started running by myself in the early, early morning, fear was a familiar companion. It whispered constantly reminding me of the "what ifs". Being female and running solo in the wee hours of the morning conjured more than a few "what ifs". Eight years ago, I allowed fear to dictate my first few runs. Those around me, that were uncomfortable with me running, added fuel to the fear bonfire. Every shadow had a potential mugger, rapist, kidnapper or murderer. I rode that negative emotion and fear until finally I couldn't take the mental exhaustion. Taking time I researched statistics, numbers and possibilities, not just for runners in general, but crime rates in my area. I learned that while things can and do happen the actual probability of something bad happening during my runs were extremely remote. In fact, I had a better chance of being in a car accident on the way to the grocery store then having something nefarious happen during my run. 

Once I conquered that initial fear, my runs became amazing. My mind could enjoy the music, soak up the morning and thrive in quiet solitude. In eight years I have run thousands of times, logging thousands of miles without fear. In all that time and in all of those miles only five runs required me to be more diligent with two of those causing a level of fear. In addition to last week's encounter I had another morning six years ago when I was prompted to outrun a man on foot. Had fear fueled my responses and future actions I would have missed thousands of runs and thousands of stolen moments. I have seen a sky full of falling stars, mountain lions, deer, antelope, raccoons, bats, owls and so much more. I have unraveled numerous issues, watched seasons change, buildings go up and come down, and found myself. I have become part of an unspoken comradery with others as they bustle of to work, recognizing familiar cars, understanding the rhythm of our community. Choosing facts and statistics allowed me to combat the irrationality of my fear and to respond with clear-headed logic when faced with a situation. 

My feet flew this morning, excited to be running pain free for the first time in weeks. My achilles was behaving and I was taking full advantage. Enjoying the warm air as it kissed my shoulders, my mind continued to dance with issues of fear and how it has affected our country and my town. Unfortunately, fear has become the driving force recently for decisions being made. Heightened emotion fed by fear has clasped people by the throat, squeezing to force acquiescence. It has prevented intelligent people from dealing logically with issues affecting our town and country, launching them into the land of "what ifs". When the grip of fear is extremely intense and people are submerged in emotion, responses to any given situation are skewed. Like a mother bear with her cubs, any threat, perceived or otherwise, is met full-on with a vicious response and attacks. No thought is given to the resulting damage or the actually validity of the threat. 

Our country has been buried in fear and "what if" over the COVID virus since January. The rampant emotion has prompted beliefs that the virus is a death sentence for everyone, an increase in cases is a horrific event and the fear that if we try to resume normal life we are sealing our death sentence. Those that are operating on such high emotion look and fight for validation of their fear. They want everyone else to be cocooned in the same situation, pushing and pushing and pushing to place everyone in the same box of illogical fear. Difficulty arises when they are so underwater they can't step back to see the irrationality. Fear pushes a person to only accept data if it justifies their emotion, losing unbiased and critical evaluation.

School in my town starts in just over a week and my heart aches for the children as fear has blacked out common sense, statistics, numbers and logic. My senior will attend two days in the classroom, wearing a mask and sitting 6 feet from everyone else with no socializing. Three days he will be relegated to a computer at home. The school has chosen to split secondary students to maintain a "safe environment." Half will attend on Mondays and Wednesdays the other half will attend on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The scheduling doesn't take into account friendships or athletics, simply class schedules. Taking that into account, my son will not be attending with his friends, as his class schedule is much different. The letter from our superintendent didn't address the possibility of moving to a more positive framework with everyone in class five days a week, only addressed the likelihood of reverting to 100% online. There are so many issues that surround our students and their continued quarantine that are more important than the possibility of contracting a virus; suicide, drugs and alcohol.

Masks, social distancing and isolation? Breaking down the numbers, the plan is beyond overkill. My community of 38,880 people, in seven months, has administered 4,200 tests. 85 of those tests were positive, 64 have recovered and we currently have only 21 active cases. Thankfully we have had no deaths. Only 2% of total tests have been positive with a 0% death rate. That means only 0.2% of the total county population has been positive and only .05% of the total population currently active. Cases are declining. Based on these statistics the probability of contracting the disease is very, very slim. In addition the knowledge that the most affected are those 65+ only adds to the overkill when dealing with school age students. Other facts are not taken into consideration. These students social distanced probably the first couple of months. Seven months into it and they have played baseball, softball, volleyball, lifted weights, vacationed with their parents and hung out with friends for the majority of the summer. The vase majority has not worn masks. Our town also sits on a transportation artery. Trucks have been in and out stocking stores across the country since the beginning and through all of this there has not been a drastic increase in numbers. Cases have not increased exponentially despite these situations. The other fact is that people will continue to catch this virus, it doesn't mean isolate the city and everyone in it.     

Fear rides through my state as well. 90,962 COVID tests have been submitted state wide with a total of 3,286 positive cases, 30 total deaths with 2,668 recovered and only 588 total active cases. Death is always tragic and never something to minimize, but unsurprisingly 76.7% of the deaths were in people over 65 years of age. 90% had underlying health conditions. Statistics show 3% of all tested were positive with a .03% death rate. When this virus began, speculation was the most impacted would be those 65+ and those with underlying health issues. That speculation has been substantiated again and again. Of course there will always be an outlier, someone who doesn't fit those demographics, but as with everything those are isolated and should not be used to fuel fear. Based on the above numbers over the last seven months it is possible to catch and die from the virus, but the probability is extremely low. So why allow fear to keep our students from going back to class normally? Why allow fear to keep our communities closed and our businesses on the brink of bankruptcy? The virus has not swept through the state via community spread like models indicated over and over again. We haven't even come close to infection rates or death estimates, even considering masks were only made mandatory in many places in the last month. 

The run continues to coax thoughts on fear and what is currently happening. The entire country begs for the same analysis as fear is strangling not only towns and states, but the entire country. Is it validated? What do the numbers show? 

In the U.S. 71,022,808 COVID tests have been conducted. 5,574,276 were positive with 173,189 deaths. 2,570,780 active cases exist across a country that has over 328 million people. 7.8% tested positive in almost 25% of the country being tested with a 3% death rate. The entire population will not contract COVID. As with every virus and disease, some will and some won't. The demographics of the deaths again show 75% of deaths in the 65+ age range and those with pre-existing conditions. Logically it would make sense to protect the most vulnerable without endangering an entire country, especially based on statistics.

Globally the statistics are in-line with national and local numbers showing very similar trends. There have been 21,914,980 positive cases, 14,639,840 recovered meaning only 7,275,140 active cases with 64,221 listed as critical in a population of over 7.8 billion. The total deaths, as reported, are 775,756, approximately 3.5% of positive cases.

Whenever death is involved it is very sad, but when you break down the numbers does it warrant the current amount of fear? Initially all of this was new, justifying additional levels of caution, but now? 

When fear continues to drive decisions, focus is drawn from other disturbing worldwide numbers. Currently there are 845,278,661 malnourished people in the world, almost 11% of the world's population and so far this year 7,029,570 have died of hunger. Over 14,857 people died today of hunger. 

1,697,631,990 people are overweight in the world and 763,432,878 are obese. In the U.S. alone over $322 billion has been spent, so far this year, on obesity related diseases. 

There are 42,028,426 HIV infected people in the world and so far this year there have been 1,056,628 deaths due to HIV. 

Cancer has claimed 5,162,215 people. 

3,142,134 deaths have been caused by smoking, 

1,572,060 deaths this year are alcohol related. 

674,024 people have committed suicided.

848,478 deaths are traffic fatalities. 

529,301 deaths are water related diseases and 798,667,995 have no access to safe drinking water. 

Fear has the ability to grow horns, create monsters and entice people to act illogically. People will lash out at others who don't carry the same amount of fear. Remember growing up, the fear of monsters under the bed, the fear of learning how to ride a bike without training wheels, learning how to drive? Remember how fear of the dark or staying alone could turn a sweatshirt at the end of the bed into an axe murderer or the slightest sound outside the window was someone coming to take you?

As a parent I have acted out of fear in the guise of protecting my kids. Trying to prevent them from doing things because I was afraid of what might happen. I learned, as most do, there is a price to those fearful decisions. Our fear causes damage when we try to protect and isolate from things that don't pose a large risk. The greatest risk is the perception our fearful parent brains created.

My body rejoices as I enter the final mile. My legs stretch out as the stars cheer me on. My only interruption is to pause and watch a trash panda dive into a drain. Had I allowed fear to control my actions I would have missed this perfect morning and my first run, in a long time, without pain. I will be cautious. I will be aware. I will exercise additional caution when necessary, but I will not allow irrational fear to stop me from living.

*All statistics were current as of the writing of this blog and were obtained from worldometers.info and verified independently on their listed sources. 

 

Rekindled Passion

My alarm broke through the early morning, startling me. The house was quiet and my family slept as I would get up, get ready and sneak into the darkness. For over seven years this affair had been going on, and already my mind was making excuses to not continue this morning. In the beginning my heart woke me up well before my alarm, anxious and excited. Each new morning was an incredible experience, the anticipation of meeting, the pounding of my heart, the joy of something new. I felt powerful, beautiful and like the best version of myself. My heart would beat wildly, my body would become slick with sweat and my lungs would labor with each passing moment. I felt invincible. Sometimes I would push the envelope and the allure would draw me out in broad daylight to meet. Every moment was different and I felt whole. My soul would soar and my body would respond with joy and reckless abandon, not caring what other people thought. 

Now, over seven years later, things are different. It was bound to happen, as change happens in all relationships. People talked of the seven year itch and I wonder could that be what has marred this relationship. The sheen of newness has worn off and the years have aged me. Now my body waits for the alarm and rolls out of bed stumbling through the routine without joy. Could this affair that gave me purpose morning after morning have reached its end? Heat and passion have been replaced with excuses and the mechanical feeling of going through the motions. The love is still there, centered deep in my soul, but the flame of passion is gone. All relationships ebb and flow and I wonder if this is just a step, a moment to be worked through or if it is time to let it end? Do I focus on something else, stay tucked tightly in bed each morning, not daring to leave the house in all kinds of weather for those golden moments? We have struggled and we have fought, rebelling against time and fighting for what we had, but now it seems different. 

I have changed. I am older and wonder about how I look and how I feel. What I used to be able to do seamlessly no longer happens, injuries, detachment and fatigue weigh me down and the relationship suffers. So much has changed since we started this journey, over seven years ago. My boys are men on the brink of starting lives of their own. I am older with grey streaks running through my hair. My body creeks and cracks more than it did, and I wonder if I am even worthy. Why did I start this crazy relationship that occupies my thoughts, pushes me and calls to me day after day? Even as questions swirl through my sleepy mind, I begin to dress my tired body just right, choosing the perfect outfit. Hidden just beyond the curtain of  discipline and routine I can feel a familiar hum just below the surface. The desire surges to meet, to remember and to rekindle the passion. 

Stepping outside I breathe deeply. The sky is dark, no moon to be seen and the stars are faint and hidden mostly by the clouds. My lover waits calling softly to me. In response, music races through my veins, warming my body and I take off. Ten miles speaks softly to me, seducing me as my feet kiss the pavement. Familiarity, comfort and joy tickle my senses. Houses are quiet, the birds are still sleeping and nobody is around to see us stumble or to see our struggle. The night sky and the stars watch knowingly, having experienced over 2,500 days of our relationship. The moon has celebrated the highs and wept during the lows. Pre-dawn, when darkness reigns and the world sleeps, is the time for my lover, the run and me. There are no boundaries except those self imposed. It is in the thick of this relationship I am the truest form of myself, when I feel strongest, most beautiful, most passionate. Despite this difficult season the run seduces me, accepts me and welcomes me.

As I eat up the miles I remember the feelings, the tingle and the excitement. These moments are just for me, not for a race, not for anything other than joy, passion and beauty. Stoplights blink their familiar rhythm and the tiniest bite of chilly air brushes my arms and ruffles my ponytail. My lover grabs ahold of me, whispering sweetly to my soul, reminding me. You are enough, you are strong and beautiful. We will always have ups and downs, but I will be here for you mile after mile. I remembered the thrill as passion fueled my feet and the familiar joy of being reconnected and rekindled. I waved good morning to a bright eyed cat and thought over other mornings recently where my soul was awakened. 

I remember stepping outside weeks ago, it was warm by my standards. The sky was dark, dappled with the twinkle of stars and planets. My soul was craving time, I was tired and my eyes were scratchy from a restless night, but the road called. Breathing deeply I whispered good morning to the stars, set my watch and took off. My body felt angular and took a few minutes to warm up, but my shoes were anxious for their meeting. Day after day we have met, the early morning, the road and I. My shoes have changed, the weather has changed, my mood has changed and sometimes even my purpose has changed, but every day the road meets me. Houses sit back, lumbering giants in the darkness of pre-dawn quietly watching as I disturb the serene morning with the rhythmic, soft, muffled meeting of soles to asphalt. Music winds its way through my ears into my soul, coursing through my veins working to bring my body into sync. The moon is hiding, not yet rising in the east so the way is lighted only by the yellow glow of intermittent street lights and the quiet blink of red and yellow. It is early and the birds have not yet started their singing, bunnies are nestled into the tall grass, quietly watching, enjoying the chance to snuggle in. My runs are solace and this morning I needed the time, the quiet and the moments by myself. For the duration of my run I can get lost. It is only me. There are nobody else's expectations to meet, simply my own. I don't have to play nice and this is when I am the best version of myself. My shoulders are tense as the last few days burden my mind and my heart. Purposefully, 1/2 mile in, as I corner the blinking of an intersection, I breathe deeply and relax my shoulders. I will stress, other's expectations, sorrow, worry, and sadness to travel my body and escape through my soles to the road. They will be washed away, forgotten, at least for now. As I begin to eat up the miles I struggle, my mind is lost in the moment, but the last few days have seeped into every part of my body, muscles aching, mind tired and body not completely in sync. Running by the park, lights reflect off the pond, trees peek through with the hint of buds tipping the branches. No cars, no headlights, just quiet, music, the soft pad of my shoes, and the sleeping town. For these moments, everything else disappears, time stops, static disappears and my mind is at peace.

Another morning surfaces as I dance ten miles. 

In the darkness I heard the steady rhythm of the rain, drumming on the roof, knocking at the windows. It was 2:30 a.m. and I quietly rolled out of bed. The morning was ready for me and the run was waiting. At a beautiful 40 degrees, despite the rain, I felt shorts were warranted. Tucking my hair into my neon marathon cap and securing my earbuds I stepped onto the porch. The streetlights highlighted the steady curtain of rain, not a drizzle, but not a downpour. The black of the sky was deep with banks of clouds blocking out the stars and moon. The only sound permeating my music was the quiet insistence of the rain. With a deep breath and a click of my watch I set out, music working its way through my system, ready for a Monday morning run. Creeks flowed across the road, down gutters and the sound of rushing water increased near drains. It was a beautiful morning and with my mind blank I disappeared. For the next 8 miles my mind relaxed and everything was at peace. Raindrops bounced off my cap, small rivulets reached for my shoes and the inky black puddles gave the impression of endless depth. My shoulders relaxed, and my mind let go of everything. My morning meeting was a stolen moment, a time when the chaos of the world didn't intrude and when the only demand was taking the next step. The steady pitter patter created ripples on the puddles and continued a creek down each of the roads, The streetlights caught the fall of the drops centered in the warmth of yellow light. It wasn't cold, but I could feel the wetness creep through my jacket. When life is full of static, when it is near impossible to escape the division and fear that explodes over every venue, the quiet of a rain swept morning is an escape. There are no expectations, everyone is asleep, houses lie dark and quiet, sheltering their sleeping occupants. Animals have crept into burrows and trees to escape the wetness and I find solace. I am a lone runner in a town of 30,000. There are days when that solitude seems monumental and days, like today, when it is treasured and welcome. My time, my escape, my moments to enjoy. As my run continues I see familiar headlights, of the few regular cars, that hadn't fallen off with the chaos. I scoot over to the side of the road, wondering if I am invisible to them. Is their mind caught in the to do list, the job, the family or whatever else and do they drive with the mechanics of a robot moving from one place to the next, not pausing to see a solitary runner. Do some catch a glimpse and wonder if I am real, a mirage or a ghost? Do they just catch the slightest movement or an outlined shape before I move from the center of the road? On the darkened streets I pole bend the many puddles, knowing my shoes will be wet, but hoping to minimize how wet they actually get. Today my body is in sync and the run is not difficult. Songs coincide with my mood and I mouth the words as I make corners, smile at familiar landmarks and scooch out of early morning risers. I love the chance to be out, no mask, no people, no worries. Before dawn breaks the town is mine, allowing me to escape, where a single thread of normal exists. Hope lies in the routine and familiarity while darkness extinguishes the constant static intent to drive me crazy. Clarity exists without fear of offending someone. Midway through the run, heading down into a favorite stretch of the run, I feel normal. Absent are fear and cloudiness, almost as if the earth is cleansing the darkness. Raindrops continue to bounce off the payment, streets are slick with water and the crosswalks glisten as if freshly painted. Drops hug branches, growing chubby with more water before plummeting down to splash on the asphalt. On the downward part of my run I race the water as it courses through gutters splashing soothingly into the drains. My steps become cautious, sidestepping earthworms as the gather on the road. Stress and frustration eek through the bottom of my shoes  to be caught up in the rolling creeks running and be swept away in the drains. Grass glitters with diamond waterdrops breaking the darkness with emerald brilliance. The fragrance of wet earth and budding trees fill my senses. My soul is at peace.

Drifting back to the present and the comfort of my lover's arms I watch the sky begin to lighten. The familiar hiss and rat-tat-tat of the sprinklers mixes with the soft kiss of my shoes. Pushing through the final couple miles, heart pounding, muscles aching and body slick with sweat I realize my stamina is not what it used to be, but the relationship is the same. As I sip quietly from the Big Dipper and race the rising of the sun I believe in another seven years we will be together, sharing the beauty, the quiet moments and the stolen joy of a sleepy town. Moments I will treasure regardless of my pace or mileage. Those moments will remind me who I am, center me, give me hope and will comfort me as only the run can. 

Racing to finish I know the affair won't end. It can't. Daily my heart is drawn to our relationship and the spark of rekindled passion. 

Pandemic

For the first time in I can't remember how long, I didn't want to run. My body was tired, not physically, but emotionally. Knowing I would regret not running, I dragged myself out of bed and slowly got ready. Stepping onto the porch I missed many of the things I usually found beautiful during my runs. It was a pleasant morning, but the stars and sky seemed to be as introspective and somber as me. My legs are heavy as I start out and my heart isn't truly in it, but the activity is needed along with the hope of clearing my mind. The music is almost indiscernible, simply background noise as my mind begins to involuntarily swirl. My town is eerily quiet.

COVD-19 has taken over our lives. I am terrified and it has nothing to do with the virus. We understand the risk and do not make light of it, taking all of the appropriate steps we have stayed away from people, but there is so much that doesn't make sense to me. Unfortunately, even as a child, I was the "why" person. Never content to simply accept what I was told, but wanting to understand and learn. I would research, dig, learn and educate myself. Education is imperative in all situations, especially when emotion is the overriding catalyst. I have learned to be wary when people use emotion over logic to sway people. My history classes have taught me time and again to be vigilant.

As I run, thoughts race to the panic and hysteria washing across the United States over the last two months; people panic buying, sweeping shelves of necessities, cleaning supplies, hand sanitizer and even surgical masks. Cities and states on lockdown with more following daily, schools are shut down, businesses closing their doors and millions of people being laid off. To add to the overall stress the message is single-minded, delivered many times unprofessionally and treats an entire nation as if we are children; wash your hands and as so eloquently put by many physicians on social media, #staythefuckhome.

I have been running my household for 27 years. We taught our children good hygiene and to wash their hands early on. When they were sick we didn't let them go to school, have playdates or go in public nor did we take them to see their grandparents. If the school had cases of kids going home sick, our kids stayed away from grandparents for a few days to ensure they weren't passing things on. As adults we do the same thing. I find it beyond interesting the government and health industry now believe we are incapable of doing those things on our own and need to shut down businesses and regulate things that have been daily parts of our lives. I understand how many will respond; "The severity of this virus has astronomical ramifications, we are two weeks behind Italy and look at what is happening in Italy today, they have passed China in total deaths, with over 4,000. If we don't lock everything down our death toll will be much higher because of our population. People will lose their jobs and businesses, but that is just going to have to happen."

If you react or question any portion of the message, you are labeled as somebody that doesn't care about those impacted the most or there is an incorrect thought that you aren't taking it seriously. I am unable to speak for those around me but I will speak for myself and my family. Questioning the data and the "cure" because I am looking beyond the end of my nose, does not mean we are not taking it seriously. We are, I just happen to want a more thorough understanding of what we are being told and forced to do. In addition, it is imperative to look beyond the single crisis especially knowing that the current approach could potentially have the ability to collapse our economy and our country. I believe it is socially and economically irresponsible to focus on only one solution and situation without viewing  the entire impact of that solution.

My legs weigh thousands of pounds and I find myself walking, something I don't do. The music echoes in my ears and I only catch bits and pieces of songs. So much of my discomfort comes from the fact that I am a logical person, loving numbers and apples to apples comparisons. I don't blindly believe headlines, articles, every piece of information and hype people throw my way. I don't follow the crowd, nor have I ever. Over the last two months I have watched our country demonstrate sincere loss of individual, critical thought. Simply following propaganda, reposting without logically thinking about what they are reading or posting. Our news media once prided itself in researched, accurate information. Today it is about short soundbites designed to get the most clicks and manipulate as many as possible and it doesn't have to be true. Truth is a quality no longer scrutinized or required in the news. Headlines often share only partial information and are designed to elicit emotion, cause fear and panic. "Coronavirus sweeps through the United States with confirmed cases topping over 32,356 and the death toll over 400 as medical facilities across the nation face the inability to handle the mass of people being admitted, lacking on medical supplies and ventilators the country faces a crisis." The use of verbiage and hysteria make the information thousands of times worse. When you stop and think about the headline critically; the population of the United States is a little over 329,450,000 people. So currently .009% of the population has been confirmed, .009% and that doesn't count those that probably have it, but have not been confirmed. Does it honestly warrant the doomsday headline? Also, according to the CDC of those reported cases 98% are mild and 2% are listed as serious or critical. I understand it will spread and we will talk about that soon. Questioning the headline doesn't mean I'm not taking it seriously. I am choosing to think for myself, critically analyze the information and understand the full impact.  

The inconsistencies weigh heavily on my shoulders as I think about the national fallout of the current path our country is following. I feel the need to share the information I have found, but wonder if the better course of action is to respond like so many others; put my head down, post happy pictures, do what I'm told and hope that my family comes out ok on the other side? I wrestle with keeping quiet and letting others decide my fate or sharing my thoughts and risking social persecution?

Pausing about half way through my run, I walk, eyes watching my feet, shoulders drooping. In my attempt to understand, I take a step back to look at ALL of the repercussions of our current approach. It would be easy it to let it go, letting the news headlines continue to whip people into a panic, continue to watch as the government decides they know best and put us all in lockdown. Our state is currently not in lockdown, but I see it coming as more and more people are crying for a national lockdown. 

As I ponder, a song from the movie Small Foot breaks through my reverie, Perfection, sung by Channing Tatum.

"And hey, hey it's another day
Like every other
And I don't wanna change a thing
Not one little thing, I mean, because
I do what the stones say
And I'm doin' okay
What could be better than this?
It is what it is, it is perfection.

Look at everybody do their part
And they do it with a happy heart
And it gives them all a sense of greater purpose
Well that's the that I wanna be
I wanna make them all proud of me
Just be a steady yeti and deserve this."


In my exhausted and somber state I wonder if this is a sign? Am I supposed to ignore everything? And then I hear,


"(Do you seriously believe mammoths are holding us up?)
(Mhmm.)
(What's holding up the mammoths?)
(Uh, hello? It's just mammoths all the way down. Don't listen to them, they're questioning the stones and we don't do that, okay?)
If there's a question causing you to astray
Just stuff it down inside until it goes away."

The next song prompts me to step out, stand alone and speak out when nobody else will. These were the only two songs I really heard on my run. To swim against the current to share facts that could reduce panic and allow people see a more accurate comparison, prompting them to look at the entire situation and find a better solution is terrifying. The full implications, if I don't at least get people thinking critically about things, are even more terrifying, but it is better to be part of a better solution than part of the problem. So here goes.

I have heard, "we are two weeks behind Italy and it is spreading swiftly." Based on my research being two weeks behind Italy is false. According to the CDC and Wikipedia the first recorded case of COVID-19 in the United States was January 20. The first recorded case in Italy was January 31, meaning, Italy is almost two weeks behind the United States.

"We will see more deaths because of population if we don't shut down the country." I have seen videos, passed around hundreds of times, showing what could happen when COVID-19 spreads. Those make sense and seem valid, if it were an apples to apples scenario. Italy to America is not a balanced comparison.

Italy is part of Europe and sits on 116,347 square miles. The total population of Italy is 60,500,000 people. Meaning, on average, there are 519 people per square mile in Italy. 26% of their population is over the age of 65.

The United States has 329,450,000 people and sits on 3,797,000 square miles in the continental United States, equating to 86 people per square mile. 14.9% of the population are over 65 years old.

China has 1,435,000,000 and sits on 3,705,000 square miles meaning 387 people per square mile. 17.9% of their population is over 65.

Wuhan, China, where the virus originated, has a little over 11,000,000 people and sits on 3,280 square miles meaning there are 3,353 people per square mile.

New York City has 8,623,000 people and sits on 302 square miles meaning there are 28,552 people per square mile.

So why is this information important? Working in research, scaling is an important aspect. You can complete an experiment in a laboratory, but you need to be able to scale the results up or down to estimate results appropriately for different situations. What we are currently seeing in the United States, in regards to Italy, is a conversion of the virus based solely on population and perceived death rate percentage. The problem is, the scenarios are completely different.

Using basic biology and the information above here is what I see, starting with averages.

In Italy there is an average of 519 people per square mile with roughly 31 of those in the high risk category, because of age. This does not include additional health conditions. To put things on a more even ground we need to look a little deeper and consider culture and health care. Italy is a very gregarious culture, social greetings often consist of kissing on the cheeks and hugs. Many families reside together and large gatherings are a normal occurrence. When you look at the statistics published by Statista Research Department heart failure was the main cause of hospitalization in Italy followed by COPD with 65+ being the largest group hospitalized. This means the population in Italy was already fighting many of the issues that made people high risk for COVID-19. Italy just passed China in total deaths as a result of the virus, which makes sense based on the above information.

The United States has an average of 86 people per square mile with only 12 being high risk based solely on age. I among others, are huggers, but kissing is not a normal social greeting in the United States. In some circumstances we will shake hands, but it is more often, a simple, "Hey, what's up?" Two other things weigh in favor of the US; I believe health care is better in the United States than in most countries, with access to hospital's, physicians, and specialized medicine. Our society also leans toward germaphobe. In fact, many countries have been confused by how often American's wash their hands. Society has been wiping down shopping carts, restaurant tables, door knobs for years. The U.S. faces heart disease and the 65+ age group being the highest rate for hospitalization.

Based on all of the above information, logically, a virus in going to spread much quicker in Italy than it is in the United States and be more deadly. Using basic math and the numbers above the virus could spread 83% quicker in Italy.

Average population per square mile is not perfectly distributed across any country. Higher populated areas will see higher numbers of infected and the virus will spread at a faster rate. With 28,552 people per square mile in New York City with 4,254 at high risk based on age means you will see more confirmed cases and more deaths. Higher populated areas typically have worse air quality and  different living conditions.The three largest cities in the United States are New York City, Los Angeles and Chicago, not unexpectedly all of those cities are seeing increased cases of COVID-19.

Looking at where the virus originated, Wuhan China, you can understand  with 3,353 people per square mile how it spread so quickly. Increasing the impact of the virus is the fact that air pollution and poor air quality is a very real issue in China. The population is already fighting lung issues putting them at a higher risk.

In Wyoming, where I live, there are 577,737 people in 97,818 square miles, averaging only about 6 people per square mile. The risk of spreading is much lower. In fact, many of the current 24 cases in Wyoming are traced back to a handful of people. This is a good indicator that a one size doesn't fit all in implementing lockdowns.

The other thing that weighs heavy on me is the skewed death rate percentage. The number being used daily for the death rate percentage is incorrect as it doesn't include ALL cases of COVID-19. Both Wuhan and Italy only tested the most critical, especially at the beginning of the spread. CDC and WHO have both stated that over 80% of those that have the virus will experience little to no symptoms and are not being tested or counted in the total, which skews the death rate percentage.  Right now in the U.S. there are 32,356 confirmed cases and 414 deaths. Using those numbers means the death rate is currently 1.27%.  When you add the estimated 80% not currently included in the total number of cases the total goes from 32,356 to 161,780, meaning 129,414 cases have not been reported. Using total cases, including confirmed and estimated unreported, the death rate drops to .25%. Why do I think these numbers are important? Because I am afraid, in fact terrified, that by using partial information and fear we are going to cause unbelievable, potentially irreversible damage to this country. The "cure" is going to be more devastating than the virus itself, especially when you hear whispers of a pandemic causing multiple waves, lasting 12 to 18 months, requiring lock downs and work from home scenarios for that length of time.

In digging into research and attempting a more multiple-focus approach to COVID-19, I looked at the economic impacts as well as other impacts. While searching for the most current numbers citing layoffs, furloughs and jobs affected I ran into roadblock after roadblock. Every search led to multiple articles talking about how a nationwide lockdown might be necessary to contain the virus. Based on my numbers above, I struggled with these headlines. To find the jobs impacted I had to go directly to company sites. Here is small sampling of layoffs and job impact estimations, 70,000 jobs were stopped when Disney World shut down, 23,000 jobs were stopped when Disneyland shut down. The travel industry estimates 4 million jobs will be affected. IATSE had 120,000 lay offs, Halliburton just furloughed 7,000. These are all big corporations. and only a small sampling, there are thousands more, not including the small local businesses.

When I look around my town, our University is essentially shut down, and they are the largest employer in Laramie, parking lots at our hotels are empty, local shops, bars and restaurant have shut down. Many working to try to provide some curbside service and/or gift certificates. Local gyms, retail establishments, service businesses like hair salons and spas and even churches are shut down. EVERY business has been affected and the majority have already taken a dramatic plunge in revenue. The overlying thought is, we will deal with that later, the loss of jobs and businesses are collateral damage. If the pressure for complete lockdowns and longer closures continue we will be in a situation where millions of jobs are lost with thousands upon thousands of businesses being impacted beyond repair. Currently, in Wyoming, it is estimated that everything will remain closed for two weeks, but if we follow peer pressure we could look at businesses being closed through April, May and even longer. 53% of Americans currently live paycheck to paycheck and in small towns like Laramie, where so many businesses are locally owned, the impact will be catastrophic. People look to lose their entire livelihood by doing something that, based on the above numbers does NOT MAKE SENSE, especially considering there are other options.

We are looking at losing millions of  more jobs in the next couple of months. Some employees will receive checks for a few weeks, some will work from home for a while and others, many of whom I know, will no longer have an income stream. How long until they lose their homes? Now with borders closing to only essential items in states such as New York, Pennsylvania, California and Illinois, other small businesses are closing. Let me remind you, the current total is 32,356 with 98% of those mild cases and 2% serious or critical, and we are closing hundreds of thousands of businesses and putting millions into unemployment. Many large companies, in an effort to avoid the hike in unemployment are listing employees at zero hours rather than laid off. Those people won't qualify for unemployment and for those that do qualify, claims have already risen exponentially. The unemployment system, is not meant to be flooded with millions of claims. This will bankrupt unemployment and hike rates, making it financially difficult for any small business, if they are even able, to come back online, When businesses resume in 6 months, 12 months or even 18 months from now, most small businesses will not have survived. Large corporations will be first to respond and in an attempt to recoup lost revenue, prices will increase. People who have been without a steady income for months or even a year will struggle even more. The economic implications go even further and deeper, but I will leave the simple ramifications here.

The next implications make my heart ache. Our world is in chaos, people are flooded almost by the minute with ads, discussions, social media posts, news information, stories from friends of friends, all with an underlying doomsday message. The stress from trying to navigate what we are being told along with many losing jobs, paychecks and worrying about the loss of their homes and livelihood will increase mental health issues. I believe we could see a significant rise in adult suicide, especially if lockdowns continue for months. The feeling of hopelessness could be magnified when the nation seems to put little value in their jobs or their situation beyond COVID-19.

Cases of reported domestic violence and child abuse will increase and if reported cases are on the rise, unreported cases will increase as well. Clinics around the country have already seen a sharp rise in child abuse cases. Many children in abusive situations look to school and daycare as a sanctuary. A large majority of child abuse cases are reported by teachers and day care providers. School and day care provides a safe island for these children to escape 4 to 5 times a week. Now, these same children are unable to leave volatile situations. Already agitated parents are experiencing even more stress. Currently more than 4 children die daily from child abuse and neglect with 70% of those being children under 3 years old. 2.9 million cases of child abuse are reported yearly, with many going unreported. A study conducted during the last recession saw a 30% increase in child abuse and neglect. Applying those numbers we could see an estimated 870,000 more children as reported victims of child abuse. 870,000. Using the current estimated number of 4 children per day who lose their lives to child abuse, we can estimate an annual reported number of 1,460. Applying the 30% increase from the last recession that number could jump to almost 1900 with the economic implications of our current plan for COVID-19.

None of this takes into account other aspects of life that are being affected. Schools across the country are closed, seniors are losing their senior years including final years, for many, to participate in loved senior activities; whether it be sports, culinary, FFA, drama. Students are facing not being able to take college prep exams such as the ACT or SAT, which will impact the junior class immensely. Teachers are thrown into situations from K-12 where they now are required to design an online course that meets all of the requirements. How do you teach weights, wood shop, auto, PE or other similar classes online. How do you teach the first years of elementary school online? How does it work for students who don't have dependable access to the interne, those who learn better in a live environment or those that need specialized learning? College students are also losing graduations, being forced to online classes with many that require labs. College athletes are losing seasons and for those who are seniors it is not as simple as adding another year of eligibility. College graduates are now facing failed, stalled and non-existent job markets.

As I piece together my research, one more thing nags at the back of my conscience. Just recently it has come to light that those representing us in congress have capitalized on the current crisis. Of those accused one story continues to cause me to really evaluate my numbers and the country's response to COVID-19. Kelly Loeffler began to sell equities January 24, just days after the first reported U.S. case, and the day congress received a briefing on COVID-19. Over the month she made 29 stock transactions totaling over seven figures with one of the two purchases being into a company called Citrix which offers work from home software. There have been a total of four congressmen that have been accused of potential insider trading. This makes me question whether or not these people truly have our best interests at heart. Unfortunately when we allow the government to enforce a police state and choose what is best for us they move from serving the people, to controlling the people. The implications of this virus will not affect those in office. Their health care is exponentially better than the average Joe, they will not experience job loss and currently all representing us are millionaires or if they aren't they will be soon.

As I near the end of my run I follow the trail of my thoughts, and think of my mom. My mom is extremely high risk. She is 70+ years old, has heart issues, diabetes, lung issues, is on oxygen and has immune system issues. I take her health seriously as does she. She has quarantined herself, to the point of not even taking mail from the mail person. We have not gone to see her, even though, we have remained at home and do not have any symptoms. To help keep them safe, I helped my dad with errands, meeting him, rather than traveling in the same vehicle. I went into the public places to take care of his errands, minimizing my contact with people. I delivered their taxes and prescriptions through his truck window. I didn't touch him or hug him, which was difficult for me. As a family, we are working to keep them both safe. 

In light of  everything I shared, I don't believe the current response is the best solution, and I am not one to chatter without sharing a potential solution. This solution doesn't rely on one extreme or the other, which seems to be the current state. The group most impacted, with the highest chance of fatality are those 60+ , those who are immune compromised or with pre-existing health issues including heart and lung issues. There seems to be an increase in cases of young people. I would believe there is a direct correlation between those young people who have vaped and those experiencing more severe symptoms of COVID-19. Many of those falling into the serious or critical category live in retirement homes or were already admitted to hospitals. The last deaths listed were as follows; 83 year old, 50 year old with underlying medical conditions, 77 year old with underlying medical conditions, 90 year old with underlying medical conditions, 52 year old with underlying health conditions, 70 year old, 90 year old and a 67 year old with underlying medical conditions. I imagine many of those at high risk, like my mom, are used to watching out for themselves during high risk situations and have already taken on the responsibility for their own health. 

My solution, 

1. People take responsibility for their own personal health and the personal health of their families, including those that are high risk. If you are high risk. Stay home. We don't need the government telling us how to do something we have been doing for years. 

2. Multiple cases have been traced to single nursing homes or even hospitals. Nursing homes, assisted living and retirement communities are on quarantine and shut down to the public.  

3. Hospitals are on high watch with no unnecessary visitors and those needing to be at the hospital for other things are tested for temperature and symptoms. 

4. Health care workers for hospitals, assisted living, retirement communities and nursing homes are on high watch, monitoring their personal health, temperature and signs of the virus. Contact with your family is limited based on their daily activities.

5. Highly populated areas are handled in a case by case basis and are not used as an example for the rest of the country.  

6. As we have done for years and years, if you feel sick stay home. If your kid is sick keep him home. This is not new information and really shouldn't even need to be shared.

7.  For those that are high risk, stay home. We can create situations allowing them to work from home.  If their job is not conducive to working from home, then as a community we find a way to assist until they are able to return to work. This allows them to be safe and continue to bring in income. It is much easier to assist a select few this way than a large majority of the country. 

By forcing national shut downs, we not only put those who may contract the virus at risk, but millions of others, just in different ways. The current single-minded, all or nothing, approach has led to panic, hoarding and the exponential loss of jobs, without verification it is the best approach. By taking responsibility for ourselves and our family and placing the emphasis on those most affected in our communities, we are better equipped to deal with the long-term and short-term affects of this virus. Allow businesses and schools to resume and call upon our country to help those otherwise compromised. 

As I finish my run, my heart is heavy. I ask our government and our health care industry to look at the situation clearly, using full comparisons. As leaders explain, educate and have faith in your community. Don't use fear or panic. I encourage everyone else to look beyond this moment. Is this the best solution? If not, start asking questions, start making noise, work to make change before we are past the point of no return.