MARCH 8, 2020 – Yesterday one of our sons said to my wife and me, “You have to quit looking at the news.” Sound advice—after reading that one more article by an infectious disease physician or one more report about a statistician’s explanation of risk algorithms, either of which article/report seems to leave me with the image of a prestidigitator presenting a fanned deck of cards, face down, and saying, “pick a card, any card.”
On my way to “Little Switzerland” for my daily ski outing, I pondered some of the parameters inherent in any person’s risk analysis apropos of corvid-19. I wondered whether Big Tech, which knows before I do, where and when I’m going to buy my next tube of toothpaste, is yet able to identify my precise risk factor for “the disease.”
I also thought about Tony Gilombardo, our family’s friend and violin teacher when my sisters and I were kids. He’d taped a hand-written note to his studio door. The sign read, “Do NOT come to your lesson if 1. You haven’t practiced; or 2. You have a COLD.” “Mr. G,” as everyone called him, was terrified of the common cold. Yesterday I wondered how he would’ve reacted to the current PANIC. (I remember when my fear of Mr. G’s fear clashed head-on with my staunch dislike of violin lessons. On one lesson day, I was coming down with a cold. I hadn’t practiced much that week either. Double excuse! My mom didn’t believe me when I told her about Mr. G’s sign. I wound up having to go to my lesson—angry with Mom and scared of Mr. G. Stay tuned—and in tune—for a subsequent post.)
Then I thought again about the corvid-19 risk factor. How much greater risk is the novel coronavirus over the common coronavirus? If ultimately that math reveals roughly equivalent risk factors, then the “BREAKING (PANIC) NEWS” appears this way (at least on SNL):
[Image of three people in haz-mat suits, fumigating a hotel lobby] “REPORT: cleaning staff member at Holiday Inn in Mandan, ND tests positive for common cold.”
OR
[Image of deserted subway car in NYC] “NEWS BULLETIN: Common cold outbreak in NYC breaks 300.”
I felt mildly insane by the time I reached the foot of my “personal ski area” on the backside of “St. Moritz.” Having the place to myself, I began my workout—12 rotations of skate-skiing up the slope, then descending, executing 10 parallel turns to the slushy bottom. The snow conditions made for wonderfully perfect spring skiing. Under the circumstances, little could’ve brought me greater joy, as I enjoyed my 94th day of the current season. With each run, I attacked the hill, pretending, despite my x-c skis, that I was on a downhill slalom course with alternating red and blue gates, racing for the gold medal or just a medal or just a ribbon (no medal) or just the ephemeral pleasure of being alive and well on this precious planet . . . free as a ski-bird.
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© 2020 by Eric Nilsson
