Remembering a 'Party at the End of the World'
Four Years Out and We're Still Dealing With Covid's Aftermath
We were in South Carolina four years ago this week, a mini-vacation that, as it turned out, coincided with what felt like the end of the world. We were spending a few days with Annie’s cousin, who had moved to one of the massive retirement communities outside Hilton Head. Everything was in flux — even the trip itself — as a new virus was spreading, leaving a trail of mostly older bodies in its wake. A virus that would kill millions around the globe and that would spawn a related political virus that has left the body politic in the United States coughing and wheezing and on life support.
It was still very early in what had just been declared a pandemic. The U.S. numbers were small, the but that would change quickly, with infection and death figures exploding within months. Television soon would be dominated by images out of Sci-fi: refrigeration pods stacked outside hospitals, hospitals ships off shore, men in hazmat suits. The NBA suspended its season. Major League Baseball would soon do the same. And the night before we were to fly south, the mayor of Savannah announced cancellation of the upcoming St. Patrick’s Day Parade — the largest outside New York. The parade was slated for Saturday, March 14, when we expected to be in the city for the day.
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