#4 — “Normal”
Disclaimer: I believe in science and medicine. As someone who also spent numerous years in post-secondary education, I value the expertise of doctors, scientists, microbiologists, and other individuals in related fields. Over the last year and a half, I have grown ashamed of the countless people in America who have, what feels like overnight, become experts in these areas. Certainly, it is a self-proclaimed knowledge, and sadly, social media and a growing political polarity has driven the divisiveness amongst many. If anything, my greatest fear, when we look back on COVID-19 and examine our failures, is that, as a nation, we let it become political instead of focusing on what truly matters.
I tell you that to tell you this: I’m ready for “normal.” Whatever your version of normal is may differ from mine, but here is mine: Given my medical background, the moment I became eligible to receive a vaccine, I was calling the health department until my fingers tired from pressing the buttons. I got through. I received my shots. I ordered masks. Good masks — not just cute gimmicks being sold to make a buck. I wore them, even when it, well, sucked, to wear them. I never once thought I had been injected with a tracking device — ever heard of cell phones? — nor did I think the government was stealing my rights . . . bless, I’m not going there right now. I missed big concerts with my wife, didn’t take my daughter to Disney World while missing a summer of baseball games with her, and I didn’t see my parents for months at a time. As an educator, I had to change how I teach and deliver high-quality content while also maintaining connections and relationships, and all of this happened in one week, for five classes and approximately 100 students. From there, for the duration of the disease’s peak, I taught online primarily, where I was mostly at home, thus creating it’s own physical and mental impact on my personal being and psyche. And this, to acknowledge that I’m not whining, is obviously nothing compared to the people who went through so much worse.
So last night, when I attended a MercyMe concert in my hometown, in a big outdoor baseball stadium, with family, with most everyone in the place maskless, including myself, it felt — forgive me — damn good. I felt safe, too. I felt comfortable — finally. And, you know? It felt like “normal.” I watched children dancing and doing cartwheels in the outfield while I watched my daughter bopping around without a care in the world. Aside from the great music, this observation alone was enough to warm my heart.
Here’s my point with this entry: I’m not trying to “stir the pot.” Folks will believe what they believe, and my little blog will probably not change it. If you believe differently than me, that’ s okay, I still love you. You just have to, reciprocally, be okay with me doing what I have done to, not only protect myself, but also protect you. For me, it is the courteous and decent thing to do, plus my faith teaches me to do unto others as I would have done to me and to love my neighbor as myself. In this crazy world, it’s the least I can do.
Meanwhile, no matter where you stand with all this, let’s remember that, at the end of the day, “normal” can’t really be defined, nor should it. As an old friend always reminds me: “Normal” is just a setting on the dryer.
- JB
