On Thursday morning I was at an operations meeting at work, walking through a couple of weeks of programs with my colleagues—all the performances, films, community meetings, lectures, rentals, youth projects, exhibition load-ins and everything else that makes the museum vital and necessary.
By Friday night, all of that was cancelled.
The museums are shut down, the opera house and orchestra are shut down, the famous theaters and the storefront theaters are shut down. Our fundraisers and ASL tours and film screenings: cancelled.
The schools, restaurants and bars are shut down. Churches cancelled their services.
I am allowed to go outside, but my fellow human beings are potential vehicles of contagion. I must avoid crowds and getting withing six feet of another person.
I am also a potential killer-virus carrier. If I have dinner with my family, hug a friend, kiss my husband, cuddle my nieces while reading them a story—I could contaminate them.
I am a the biggest contamination threat to myself: my own hands are disease laden and if I touch my own face I’ll wake up gasping for air in an emergency room.
Two weeks ago, I was planning to travel someplace safe. Now no place is safe.
I went for a walk around my neighborhood with HOB today. We didn’t hold hands.
Everything, almost everything, was cancelled today but the fresh air felt good and I then saw an—open!—fish shop with a painted snowman wearing a shamrock.