Spring flowers, vaccines and renewed gratitude are tilting our attitudes toward optimism
The latest symptom of the COVID-19 pandemic is whiplash. At one moment we get scared by the spread of new variants, rising case counts, and dire warnings of a fourth wave. In the next moment we are cheered up by the steady rise in vaccinations, now averaging 3 million a day. It’s a daily, head-spinning contest between fear and hope.
We have at least two variants in Thurston County. That’s scary. On the other hand, we see bright yellow school buses on the road again, which brings to mind the joy of kids and teachers finally in classrooms together again.
In the national media, we read that in the threatened fourth wave, more younger people are becoming ill. Even if their youth makes them more likely to survive, we worry about young, healthy adults getting those “Long COVID” illnesses, which include not only a lingering cough and shortness of breath but also the less common but super scary psychosis, organ damage and memory problems. That’s a lot to worry about.
Then we read that because more older and more vulnerable people are vaccinated, there will be fewer deaths. So we worry a little bit less.
Next we hear that the virus will continue to mutate and challenge the effectiveness to our vaccines. New ones may be needed, or we might need boosters. We really don’t know how long current vaccines will protect us. Fortunately we’re pretty impressed by our vaccine-making companies, and the federal agencies that vet their work. So at least this is a smaller, more distant worry.
On the hope side of the picture, it’s heartwarming to see vaccinated elders out partying together. There’s a charming article in the March 21 New York Times about how much fun they’re having. In it a restaurant owner reports a 17-year high in cocktail sales. He says “COVID was hard on everybody, but you can’t even think of the emotional toll in this group. They haven’t gone out. They want to have the complete experience. It is just joyful to see them again.”
But to add to our ambivalence about whether to be optimistic or pessimistic, there’s another national illness, this one political. It’s the lingering weirdness of having nearly half of Republicans believe the outright lie that the Jan. 6 insurrection in our nation’s capitol was the work of antifa, or that it was entirely nonviolent. (In a recent NPR/PBS/Marist survey, half of all Republican men also are not interested in getting vaccinated against COVID-19.)
This is an illness we call Long Trump. It is similar to the prolonged mental health symptoms that can follow COVID-19. There is no vaccine for this; we can only hope that relentless fact-checking will eventually produce herd immunity.
Into this competition between hope and fear, we lean towards optimism.
Our first reason for optimism is spring. Whose spirits are not lifted by cherry blossoms, daffodils, and bird song? Doesn’t it lighten your spirit to see a bird fly over with nesting materials in its beak? Or, for those lucky enough to live within earshot of a wetland, to step outside and listen to the nightly frog chorus? We made it through the longest winter of our lifetime, and spring congratulates us with sun, warmth and abundant new life.
Tying for first place in the reasons for optimism ratings is, of course, the rapid deployment of vaccines. There are good reasons to believe vaccines will win out over variants, even if it takes longer than anyone wants, and even if we go backwards before we lurch forward again. It is possible to be both optimistic and patient. Especially when it’s spring, and soon will be glorious summer. We will be outdoors more, where even the un-vaccinated are safer.
As to our national political illness, there is another reason for optimism: us. We live in a democracy, and the majority rules. Trump pushed the national culture backwards, President Biden is pushing it forward again. Democratic majorities in Congress are pushing with him, and so are millions of American citizens.
Our optimism is also lifted when we consider how lucky we are to live in Thurston County and Washington state. At both levels, our political culture is far healthier than the national average. Our politicians are civil, and our public health policies continue to be sensible and effective.
Finally, this last reason for optimism — or maybe just plain happiness — is a reiteration of our first. It’s our good fortune to live near Mount Rainier, the Olympics, Puget Sound, forests, prairies, rivers, and waterfalls. When the sun and the mountains come out on a brilliant spring day, we can’t help but think that all is right with the world.