How Coronavirus Has Exposed the Fragility of Capitalism

These days, I am staying safely in my home. I am following all of the governmental guidelines on how to slow the spread of the terrible coronavirus pandemic.

I haven’t seen my sons, haven’t hugged them, or laughed with them or fed them, since January.

I haven’t visited with my frail 90-year-old mom since March 8, which happened to be the night before my birthday. That night the two of us shared dinner, a couple of glasses of prosecco, and many good memories. I haven’t seen her since.

When my husband or I go to the grocery store, we wear our masks. We stay away from other shoppers. We come into the house and shed our clothes. We shower and clean and carefully unpack our groceries.

We worry about our neighbors with COPD. We fear for our young relative with Cystic Fibrosis. We talk in hushed tones about the first grader we know who is on the heart transplant list. We are conscious of the many people in our community who we don’t even know but who are vulnerable to this terrible virus.

We’re incredibly lucky.

I’m retired. My husband is able to keep working through the wonders of telehealth. We have enough food, in part because we live in a pretty rural community and filled our freezer with local meats and veggies well before any of this unfolded.

We have health insurance through the town where I taught for many years.