Am I living in fear?
The problem with our pandemic response is that we're not afraid enough.
It’s going to be a different Thanksgiving.
Last Sunday, Michigan’s Department of Health and Human Services issued another sweeping round of restrictions to combat the surge of COVID-19 cases across our state. Starting Wednesday, restaurants closed to dine-in service, high schools and colleges transitioned to remote-only operation, and sports were cancelled. Residents were advised to only gather with one other household, and even that seems to be discouraged, as small gatherings seem to be where the majority of new outbreaks are occurring.
We’re entering a time of year where we regularly attend large gatherings and partake in special traditions, and many of those will either be canceled or look extremely different this year. Christmas parties are no-go’s. Big Thanksgiving dinners will revert to small, intimate affairs. There will be no live Thanksgiving parades, no Christmas tree lightings, no trips to the mall to see Santa. No New Year’s Eve galas.
Let’s take a moment, whether we agree with the governor’s orders or not, to admit this flat-out sucks. I love the holiday season. I love to be out looking at the lights, enjoying annual traditions, and taking in the sights and sounds of the holidays. I’m not an extrovert by any means, but I do enjoy gathering with family for big dinners; heading out to Crossroads Village with my kids, parents, nieces, and nephews; and, of course, chaotic gift exchanges with family. This year, there will be very little of that.
It makes me sad. It probably makes most of us sad. It’s okay to be sad about this and to dislike the turn this year has taken. After such a difficult eight months, I’m sure we were all looking forward to the holidays providing some semblance of normalcy and decompression, and now that’s not going to occur in the same way.
But not liking something is not the same as disagreeing with it. And I believe the MDHHS orders are not only necessary, but probably also coming a bit too late. On Thursday, we had more than 7,500 new positive diagnoses of COVID-19 in Michigan, and we’re up to more than 8,300 deaths in the state since the beginning of the pandemic. The last time we were under 1,000 new cases was at the beginning of October. We’re seeing a fast rise in the number of cases that mirrors what’s being seen across the country, and something needs to be done to stop it. These lockdowns are essential to saving lives. I don’t know why they didn’t come sooner, when we could have maybe curtailed this by Thanksgiving.
And yet, I’ll stress again, that doesn’t mean I’m not sad that we’re in another state of semi-lockdown. Businesses are going to take a hit; many local restaurants are not going to survive this round of closures. As a film fan, I don’t know how movie theaters are going to make it out of 2020 intact, especially as the last major release still slated for 2020 was just moved to streaming. Working parents will continue to be taxed as schools close back down and they try to serve dual roles as employees and teachers once again (K-8 schools are still allowed to operate in Michigan under the restrictions, but many districts have reverted to virtual classes through at least early December). This is going to have consequences. It’s going to be a sad, lonely and difficult winter for many people.
And it makes me angry, because it was avoidable. Technically, it’s not hard to stop this virus from spreading. Wear masks. Social distance. Stay home if you’re feeling sick. Do that, and you stand a good chance of stopping the spread. As I saw someone write, we’re in a pandemic that can be fought on Easy Mode. And yet, people have politicized masks, refusing to wear them because they see them as a threat to freedom (not thinking about their neighbors’ freedom to go outside without getting a life-threatening virus). People have refused to heed social distancing measures at bars, crowding together and taking down their masks. As the numbers have gone up, people have stopped listening to guidance about gatherings. The virus has spread; none of this is surprising. And if people can’t follow the rules, then restrictions like this are necessary to force them to stay home. It sucks, but it’s necessary.
I commented about this on social media late last week, before the governor announced these new restrictions. I said the number of cases was getting too high; something needed to happen, we needed new restrictions. And I had a number of people accuse me of being too afraid. We should just be able to go out and live our lives, they said. We shouldn’t live in fear. Some said I just want others to share my fear.
Here’s the thing: I understand that we shouldn’t live in fear. But I also think fear sometimes gets a bad rap.
A key reason why humans have been able to survive for millions of years is because of fear. Fear is how we were able to recognize threats in the wild, and it’s evolved with us to help us recognize and respond to dangers. If you’re at a hockey game and a puck comes flying at your head, you’re not accused of living in fear if you duck. Likewise, if you pull a piece of steak from the fridge and it smells rancid, you’re not accused of living in fear if you throw it out. You’re responding to the data you have to make a decision that keeps you safe.
I find the accusations that I’ve lived in fear throughout this pandemic ridiculous, particularly because there are probably an equal number of people who think my actions have been too cavalier throughout all this. We haven’t been holed up in our house for eight months. We’ve gone to outdoor family gatherings and hugged our parents. We’ve eaten at restaurants — outdoors whenever we can swing it, but we’ve done indoors as long as it’s been spaced out and the waiters have complied with mask-wearing. My wife and I have gone to hotels. Hell, we went to an amusement park this summer, and we wore masks and social-distanced in line over the space of two days.
Some may disagree with those actions, others may think we were overly cautious by keeping masks on our faces the entire time; we’ve heard from both sides. And I can point to a few decisions where, in hindsight, we either were being way too extreme with our safety measures or where we should have gotten up and left but did not. But I can say that none of the decisions were made lightly. Before entering a restaurant, we knew where the caseloads were in the areas we’d be, what the restrictions were, and whether places were holding to them. Weeks before our amusement park trip, I was on message boards with other park visitors, asking for video and photos that showed whether the park was taking the precautions seriously and whether other visitors were complying. We made our decisions based on the data available.
And now, we’re doing it again. We’ve decided to have a very small Thanksgiving this year. And even though it’s very small, we’ve still set up strict rules for ourselves. My son is not allowed to play with his friend unless he’s outside and wearing a mask. My wife and I have not left the house in a week except to drop our daughter off at daycare (which operates under tight precautions, doesn’t even let adults into their classrooms, and has not seen a COVID case since reopening in early July) or make essential trips to the store (and even those are rare, as we largely have groceries delivered). We’ve asked our guests to do the same, to mask up when they’re in our house, and spacing out at different tables. We’re making decisions based on available data. And some will think that’s crazy and fear-based, others will think we’re reckless for having anyone over at all.
There are two wrong extremes to treat this with. There is such a thing as living in fear and being so scared that COVID is going to get you or your loved ones that you refuse to take a walk around the block. And there’s also a recklessness that throws caution to the wind and declares “I’m going to live my life like normal because if I die, I die.” That’s not just dangerous to yourself, it’s unloving and dangerous to your friends, family, neighbors and any strangers you come in contact with. To think this is a hoax or that you’re untouchable, or that you can throw caution to the wind because, well, if you get the disease, that must just be what God wants, is stupid and dangerous. Make your decisions; do the best that you can, and do so under the best data. And don’t be so stubborn as to refuse to modulate if the situation changes.
But my detractors were right about one thing: I do want people to be more scared. Because the biggest problem we’re seeing right now is that people aren’t afraid enough, and that’s causing them to act recklessly.
Listen, I’ll say it again: This sucks. But remember: Thanksgiving isn’t canceled. You can still celebrate with your household (or, in Michigan, one other one). Your kids can still be taught to be grateful; maybe this year, we’ll actually think more seriously about those things. And if The Grinch and various other holiday movies have taught us anything at all, it’s that Christmas isn’t bound to our traditions, trappings and gatherings. The season will look different, but we can still find ways to celebrate.
Note: Next week’s newsletter will likely come out on Wednesday to get out ahead of the holiday. In that newsletter, look for a special announcement about something I’m going to be doing for this for the Advent season!
THE DIGEST
Where to find my stuff this week
The LEGO Star Wars Holiday Special review: Yes, this Disney+ animated special is much better than Star Wars’ last attempt at a holiday spectacular. It would be hard not to be. This 45-minute special is a sometimes funny sequel to The Rise of Skywalker for kids, filled with time-travel shenanigans and several franchise in-jokes, although there’s actually very little that feels holiday-ish. Still, the Lego take on these franchises are often just subversive and clever enough to be entertaining, and there are far worse ways to spend an hour with the family. It’s fun enough to deserve a watch. BHM Pop Culture review.
Crazy, Not Insane review: I’m typically not a huge fan of true-crime stuff, particularly anything having to do with serial killers. Sometimes it can be done well (I haven’t seen I’ll Be Gone in the Dark, but I enjoyed the book), but often it’s just all too tawdry for me. This HBO Max documentary from Alex Gibney is a refreshing take on familiar subject matter, profiling psychiatrist Dorothy Lewis, a pioneer in the field of Dissociative Identity Disorder. Lewis’ compassionate and empathetic approach to understanding serial killers lends a take to this that is more humane and interesting than the grotesque circus this subgenre of documentary too often ends as. BHM Pop Culture review.
Mangrove review: The first film in Steve McQueen’s five-part Small Axe anthology debuted on the BBC this week and hits Amazon Prime today. And if the quality of Mangrove is any indication, we’re in for a treat over the next month. The series of films looks at the history of the West Indian community in Britain over the years, and this first movie observes a crucial legal victory. The film is vibrant and powerful, brought to life with a strong cast. Its subject matter, concerning institutional racism and non-violent protest, has resonance to our current situation in the United States, but McQueen’s focus on the specifics of the story highlights the important role gathering places play in helping communities form and move toward progress. One of the best films of the year. BHM Pop Culture review.
Cross.Culture.Critic. Podcast: Joe and I are back at it with this month’s episode, in which we take a break from talking about pop culture to check in on each other as the pandemic rages. Initially, I’d thought this might be a “bright side of COVID”-type thing (realizing that, in a pandemic, bright sides have to be talked about very gingerly). Instead, it was almost therapeutic, leading to a discussion not just of the things we’ve come to learn thorough lockdowns but how we’ve processed our approaches, discovered our idols and learned to reprioritize. A little heavier than normal, but the thing I appreciate about these conversations is our ability to go deep when necessary. Listen online.
Chrisicisms
The pop culture I’m consuming this week.
The Mandalorian (S2, E3): I continue to enjoy The Mandalorian, even if I can’t always find much to say about it. The third episode was fun as always, and played to that joy of exploring the weirder areas of Star Wars iconography. In this case, it was the addition of high-seas adventure, coupled with a classic shootout with Storm Troopers. It’s always fun to see Katee Sackhoff show up in sci-fi, and I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of her ambitious Mandalorian. Not much to say; it was a fast-moving adventure, there was some fun blaster action, and we had some cute reaction shots from Baby Yoda. The Mandalorian still is the most fun I’ve had in this galaxy in a long time.
My Next Guest Needs No Introduction (S3, E1): I decided to check in with David Letterman’s Netflix interview show to see his interview with Robert Downey Jr. It’s an entertaining, but unremarkable discussion. Downey’s, of course, open about discussing his troubled past, and his talk with Dave about their substance-abuse issues is the most fascinating part. There’s some interesting talk about RDJ’s filmmaker father, but the conversation about the actor’s career feels perfunctory. Part of the problem might be Downey, who seems too eager to defuse everything with a joke or to ham it up. Part of it might just be that, despite the fact that he’s been in the biggest movies of all time, there’s not much to talk about in Downey’s career post-2008. He’s a Marvel icon, but the majority of the other things he’s done have been forgettable. And I really would have liked to have a little bit of a mention for this Oscar-nominated turn (and his best work) in Tropic Thunder.