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In a tiny loft, somewhere in northern Michigan

©2017 by Robert Bruce Adams, Author and Humorist

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  • Robert Adams

Duck Soup

Updated: Mar 31


LIKE MOST OF US, I am following the mandates from our governmental officials in dealing with this pandemic and have started to become acclimated to my physical isolation in my little loft in northern Michigan.


Transmission of airborne pathogens that started 5,000 miles away have become the newest twist in our global connectivity. I am trying to avoid becoming a causal agent in the spread of the COVID 19 virus. I thought sequestering myself in the sparsely populated north woods was a good idea. It still may be. We shall see.


I have taken to this quarantine and accept its prophylactic logic. I am also cognizant that I fit the profile of “high risk,” and believe that the virus might have the uncanny ability to spread using my body. My concern that I could do harm to those in my sphere is causing an amazing behavioral change in me. The old boy can indeed learn new tricks. Yes, I am also worried about my own hide, as I have not fared well with upper respiratory issues in my past.


I hope that this tried and true malaria drug (chloroquine family) reported to have been around for seventy years, will be our most immediate and available pharmacological remedy to help the unfortunate in a speedy recovery.


I read an account of the 1918 Spanish Flu in the Smithsonian. It came to me over the internet just as our new pandemic was being declared. Apparently, this flu’s devastation came in three waves over a couple of years and killed millions of us. Body counts were estimated to be ten times battlefield losses in both our world wars. I’ve read that 50% of those infected died.


Those are sobering numbers.


So, as a humorist, how do I spin this to find some happy place?


I think I’ll pass and give this another day to sink in. What have we learned in a hundred years?


Hindsight will be 20/20.


Hang in there.

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