On the Necessity of Everyday Heroism
Love in the Time of Corona — Days 5 + 6: Celebrating the (extra)ordinary heroes among us.
Today I want to talk about heroism and bravery. At a time when we’re seeing a lot of our fellow humans react to this crisis in fear and ignorance, it is vitally important for us to be able to look around and notice the amazing resilience, kindness, dedication and selflessness of our fellow citizens.
This is a time when ordinary people will—and already are—converting themselves into the warriors, healers, inventors, educators and leaders we so desperately need. In the age of Marvel superheroes, we’re witnessing our very own real-life Avengers. And no, they don’t all wear capes.
It’s been evident for a few weeks now—and many people, perhaps even the president, are starting to realize it—that this is, as the Talking Heads once sang, life during wartime. Unless a miracle drug or some other unforeseen savior arises in the next few weeks, the COVID-19 crisis will be a months-long battle that tests our resolve more strongly than almost anything most of us (especially those of us under 50) have ever experienced. A great many of us are at risk of losing loved ones, jobs, life savings, and potentially our own health and lives.
What we must never lose is our humanity.
In spite of people hoarding resources, refusing to self-quarantine and stocking up on firearms like it’s Armageddon, I don’t believe that the American people as a whole will succumb to our base impulses—I believe we will rise to the challenges ahead of us, the way we have done in the past when our number has been called.
Why do I believe this? Because there are already so many examples that demonstrate Americans’ strength, compassion and bravery.
Life during wartime calls for nothing less.
Right now, we already have thousands—likely hundreds of thousands—of Americans on the front lines.
Who are they? They are the employees at CVS, at ShopRite, at the gas station, at Chipotle and McDonald’s. They are staffers at food banks and homeless shelters and senior living communities. They are police officers, firefighters and sanitation workers. They are members of the media, who are proving during this time exactly why journalism—especially local journalism—matters. They are the scientists, public health experts and, yes, even elected officials who are working around the clock to develop treatments, plan courses of action and allocate resources to minimize the damage of this catastrophe. And above all, they are healthcare professionals (to whom I’ll devote an entire post in the future).
These are the people who are fighting for you, fighting for us, every day of this crisis. While the rest of us #stayathome to #flattenthecurve, binge Schitt’s Creek and share memes with each other, these are people who don’t have that luxury because we are relying on them to walk out their doors each day, to do their jobs in the face of an invisible enemy that can — and most likely will — strike them at any time.
I was in the checkout line at CVS the other day (before I had any symptoms, obviously), standing as far as I could away from the cashier while still being able to pay.
The cashier was a black guy, in his 50s or 60s, wearing nothing but gloves for protection. I thought to myself: “How many people does this guy help every day? How many of them might be infected?”
It seemed almost impossible that this man wouldn’t be exposed to the coronavirus. And if he were to be exposed, I knew, he would be significantly more at risk of serious or fatal infection than someone in my age group.
“Does he have a wife?” I wondered. “A family? Grandkids?” Most likely.
Think how many of our fellow citizens are out there every day of this crisis, literally risking their lives because that’s what this moment requires of them. Think how many of them are immigrants, some of whom are here illegally, doing their part to keep America running despite all the anger and ignorance that’s been thrown at them the past few years. Think how many of them come from poor communities that’ll be hit hardest by this public health crisis and the economic crisis that accompanies it.
These are your soldiers, America. These are your Avengers. And by the time this is over, we will owe them an astronomical debt for their service that we will never come close to repaying.
(I’m very much afraid that we’ll repay them by saddling them with incredible amounts of medical debt and economic devastation, but that too calls for a post of its own.)
Just because you’re not in one of the groups mentioned above doesn’t excuse you from your own responsibility during this time. We want YOU to find your inner hero, too.
How can you do this? Here’s an example:
The other day, when I posted that I might have the virus, a large number of friends and relatives reached out to make sure I was Ok. One of them happened to be a new friend who I only met recently at my friend’s wedding, when we discovered that we were practically neighbors.
“Let me know if you need anything!” she said. “Hang in there.”
And I was like: Well, I might need some Tylenol, because Amazon is all out …
“Of course!” she responded instantly. “We’re all in this together. It’s scary times. I have some. I can bring it to you in a little bit.”
But she didn’t just bring me Tylenol—which could, by the way, be a very important thing for her and her family to have if any of them get sick—she also went on two separate grocery runs and delivered much-needed Trader Joe’s goodies to the back gate of my apartment complex, where we did a responsible, social distancing, bag-drop-pick-up kinda thing.
Now, she volunteered to do the grocery shopping and said she’d be going anyway, and she wasn’t super concerned about putting herself at risk because she wore a mask and gloves in the stores … but come on! We’re living in a time when any excursion outside the house brings at least some risk of infection with it, and she was ready and willing to go out of her way for me—a person she barely knows.
This is the kind of heroism and bravery that will carry us through this crisis. It will show up in countless ways we might not even notice all the time, but which will make an enormous difference when all is said and done.
It will show up when we ask each other how we’re doing—from across balconies, from the other side of the street, on social media and on workplace video calls. It will show up when we listen to local officials and experts about what they need us to do, and respond to their calls when there are actual actions we can take to help. It will show up when we choose to acknowledge the humanity of the others around us, and not simply to recoil in fear or get buried in our own BS.
Remember that cashier at CVS? As I paid for my stuff, I said to him, “Listen, man—I just want you to know that I really appreciate you being here, working.”
He looked up, smiled, and thanked me. That was all there was to it, just a quick moment between strangers. But that moment, believe it or not, was created by bravery.
Why? Because bravery shows up in the small choices, the little extra momentary acts, when we do that which is not easy—but right.
It is easier not to notice or think about the cashier at CVS, let alone to speak openly and honestly to him about the value of his work. It is easier not to go on a supply run for that person you barely know. It is easier not to think about who might need that extra package of toilet paper more than you do. It is easier not to check in with people, to not talk about the difficult things they’re experiencing during this time, to tune out what’s happening and withdraw into a protective cocoon because you’re scared, you don’t know what to do, and all of this sucks.
But it is not right to do those things—at least, it’s not right in the way that life during wartime necessitates. For us to get through this, we desperately need those little acts of bravery. We need those people who go above and beyond themselves, sometimes in superhuman, save-the-world kinds of ways, but much more often in ordinary, make-someone’s-day kinds of ways.
As my new friend said, these are scary times. They will be far less scary — and we will all be far less alone — if we fight our way through them together.
So go on: Be somebody’s hero today. It really doesn’t take all that much.
Quick health update:
Still no fever so far, knock on wood. I was pretty fatigued during the morning, but my energy levels picked back up later in the day.
So … do I have the ‘rona? It’s too early to tell, as it’s apparently very common for people to have only mild symptoms. Based on reports I’ve seen in a number of articles, some of these symptoms align with what I’ve experienced. Obviously, the most alarming signs are fevers and a dry cough, which I’m hoping to avoid.
One very tricky thing about this virus is that it seems to at times be milder during the first week someone has it, with the ability to intensify (sometimes violently) during the second week of infection. This is what keeps me focused on the long haul, instead of my symptoms day-by-day: It’s entirely possible that next week could be a battle, and I need to be ready for it. (Of course, it’s entirely possible that I don’t have the virus or that I’ve already experienced the worst of it, but again, being over-prepared won’t hurt me.)
As I said in the first post of this series: Not today. Not today. Not today.
Read other posts from the “Love in the Time of Corona” series by Sam Rosenthal:
Read more of Sam Rosenthal’s work at samrose101.com, check out his #businesscardstories collection, follow him at @SamRoseWrites and stay tuned for his debut novel, Walking Backwards. Please RECOMMEND (clap) and SHARE this story, and always Keep It Movin.
