Reality hasn't just stumbled. It's twisted its ankle and is having a hell of a time staying upright.
Each of us is struggling to process and cope with the global pandemic. Many adults are discovering the challenge of daily worksheets and young minds quickly bored. Some are rediscovering music and exploring art on digital field trips. Some are reconnecting with friends and relatives through electronic magic. And a whole bunch are worried if their food, money and courage will hold until medical research, hard data, and clear thinking squashes these invisible bugs.
Me?
I'm remembering when a fellow named Wizard and I drove around for three months in a beat to hell truck spraying white fog into the air. We were both summer help, working for the township highway department.
We were called into the supervisor's office our first day that summer. He led us to a bay where a tired-looking pickup truck with a 50 gallon drum and a gasoline powered compressor sat on weary springs. He showed us how to pour a couple quarts of ink black, nasty-smelling liquid into the drum and then fill it with water. A rubber tube from the compressor went into the filled drum and another rubber tube with a long metal wand with a squeeze handle came out of the compressor. A spare gas can for the compressor and a lawn chair were the last of the equipment.
"Spray on every street in the township," he said. "One drives. Don't hit anything. The other sprays. Switch off. Keep it under five miles an hour while spraying. Log on and off everyday in the mileage book."
He walked away. It was the last we saw of him that summer.
"Do you know why he wants our mileage?" Wizard asked.
"No," I said.
"So we don't just sit under a tree somewhere all day," Wizard said.
"Do you know what the smelly black crap is?" Wizard asked.
"No," I said.
I was beginning to guess why the guy was called Wizard.
"It's DDT," he said. "Don't get any on your hands."
"Do you know what the regular highway guys will call us?"
OK. I knew this one.
"Mosquito Men," I said.
"No," he said. "We're now the Bug Fuc..rs."
And that's what we did. Everyday we added smelly black crap to the drum and filled it with water. Everyday we drove to a different neighborhood. Wizard offered to sit most days in the truck bed and spray the white bug fog into the air. He liked the sun and mostly avoided the spray.
Kids ran behind us in the fog and whopped and hollered. Kids road on bicycles next to me while I drove along in first gear, hugging the curb. I had to be vigilant that dogs and fearless five year olds on big wheels didn't bolt down a driveway.
We didn't run into anyone or anything that summer, and I suspect we decreased the mosquito population. Malaria was not an issue in the township, and West Nile Virus hadn't appeared yet. DDT was outlawed in the early 70s because of its effect on the environment, and I moved on to teaching by then.
I think of this now because I hope Dr. Anthony Fauci and other talented researchers around the world devise a safe and effective vaccine for the coronavirus. Then, nano-version injections of that long ago truck will throttle these pathogens, and kids can whoop and holler once again in schoolyards and playgrounds.
Copyright (c) 2020 by James Hugh Comey
