The long winter just gets longer and longer
Years from now, when historians wonder how Canada handled the idea of a highly contagious pandemic, I hope they’ll be able to give us a full “two thumbs up”. Or five stars. Or whatever the rating for excellence in the field. Right now, it seems to be cobbled together.
For example, travel. We can’t. If I took the car down to the bridge, I would be rebuffed. If, through some miracle of teleportation, I found myself in NB; well, that’s where I’d be. Air travel is off the counter. Train travel is gone. Inter-city buses are returning to their garages, as the big firms realize that the return on their investment is gone. Yes, the Greyhound has gone to his bed.
Most cities and towns are without anything other than a few essential retail services. Until the economy starts up, forget a spring shopping spree. Even Amazon has slowed; that two-day service feels more like two-week. Although some provinces are chomping at the proverbial bit (finger pointed at Quebec, which wants to get kids behind the desks as soon as the concierge can give another complete wipe-down of the desktops.
We’re even thinking about “immunity passports”, where those that have gone to the dark side of things and returned can brag about their antibodies. It doesn’t matter that science doesn’t know if antibodies imply immunity. We just want things to appear as if we’re moving on. I remain frightened, and have decided that no retail is just fine. Oh, and one of our few local restaurants burned down last evening, so I won’t be going out for a celebratory breakfast any time soon (should the all-clear be sounded). And it’s snowing, still.
