The sun will rise again tomorrow.
With each day and each news report bringing terrible news from around the world, it can be very easy to forget this. But it has never been so true and something that we must continue to keep in our minds.
We wonder where and when it can all end. We think about elderly family members and elderly friends, and we worry about them. And we also worry about how they must be feeling at this time. They cannot be immune to the warnings that they are in the category of people for whom the virus presents the greatest risk, including the risk of death.
Thankfully, I am not in that category (yet!) but I have tried to put myself in their place and I think I would be fearful, very fearful in fact. I am, and always have been, an eternal optimist, a person of hope. And so I think not of the setting but the rising sun. However, while being older must bring with it a greater sense of vulnerability in all sorts of ways, Covid-19 has just become the centre of a huge fear.
It is not so long ago that we celebrated Christmas and the New Year. At that time, we were all full of the family happiness that is all-present at that time. Some entered into 2020 with great plans, perhaps some New Year resolutions, thoughts of trips that would happen, of people that we would see during the year, of projects that we might complete – or start. The start of any year is its own version of springtime. And yet, here we are, only a relatively short time later, and all bets are off. No-one could have written the script for where we are now. Even if we thought it possible that in faraway places like China, that they could have an illness that would cause huge upheaval there, if we’re honest, it didn’t really enter the heads of most of us that it could happen to us too. And it isn’t as if we didn’t have an example to support such thinking. Ebola too, is a deadly virus. When it first appeared in 2014, in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and near the Ebola River – thus giving it its name – we never really thought that it could come to our streets and towns. And thankfully, it didn’t. Yet, very many died in a number of African countries.
We knew it was terrible, we knew that some of our hero medics got on planes to help, and yes, we knew that very many people died in those countries. But it was a disease of another continent. So when Coronavirus was first mentioned, perhaps we unconsciously thought about it as we did (and do?) about Ebola.
How wrong we were! While China might be a place to which few of us has travelled, and probably Wuhan even fewer still, Italy is not in that category. Each day brings news of more deaths in that country. We read of, and see on our television news, a country where no-one is on the street, where great landmarks and sites are empty of the tourists who usually throng there. Indeed, we read and see that in Venice, that most beautiful city of canals, the waters are becoming clear and fish are visible because of this absence of people and activity.
I cannot say that I know anyone in China (no doubt my loss but a fact). However, that is not the case with Italy. In Italy, I have so many friends. I think at this time of Alfredo, his wife Daniela, their children Paola and Anna (and grandchild) – we were guests at their home for dinner once. I think of Giacomo Damonte and his family, of Sergio and his family – all of these in and around Genoa. And I think too of Giacomo, his daughter Mariagrazia and their family. And there are so many others, people such as Simona, Georgio, Antonio, Giovanni, Danilo, the list goes on. These aren’t just names but real people. And I think about them at this time, certainly confined to their homes and perhaps being affected in some way by this virus as a result of themselves, or a family member who right now is ill.
And of course, Covid-19 has now reached our shores. Almost 1,000 infected, a small number already have died, and we worry each day about what it will bring in the months ahead. If the numbers are as projected, how will our hospitals cope, with a finite supply of ventilator and critical care equipment – will our doctors have to make decisions as to who will live, and who will die? Are our elderly relatives and friends sitting in their homes thinking that, if, God forbid, they succumb to the virus, that a doctor is going to (have to?) choose a younger person over them for treatment.
But is it all doom and gloom?
Signs of Hope.
I started this by writing that the sun will rise again tomorrow. Few could be unmoved by the sight on television or some of the many videos posted on social media, of Italians on their balconies, singing “Inno di Mameli” or more popularly known in Italy as, “Il Canto degli Italiani” (“The Song of the Italians”), recognised by us as the Italian national anthem, an uplifting, energetic, lively, emotional, and heartfelt song. Of course, I’m not an Italian, but listening to it would lift any heart.
At their lowest moment, as they are surrounded by such a catastrophe, the Italians sing. And to read the words that they sing, they are surely so poignant at this time.
L’Italia chiamò.
Stringiamci a coorte!
Siam pronti alla morte.
Siam pronti alla morte,
L’Italia chiamò. Sì!
Italy calls.
Let us gather together
We are ready to die
We are ready to die,
Italy calls
We have heard these words sung in so many places, so often at sports events. But today, and for me, they are words of hope, of a people who are not brought low because of what is happening to their country and of people who are unified in the face of terrible things happening about them.
For me, I think a new world is emerging from this. All around me, I see and hear of, so many acts of kindness, thoughts of concern for others, for the old, and the vulnerable. So many people are now speaking of ‘us’ and not ‘I’ or, ‘me.’ And it isn’t confined to individuals. This is a crisis that affects the commercial world. Factories, hotels, pubs, restaurants, stores, so very many are closed or facing closure very soon because no-one is buying what they offer. And yet, so many businesses are turning their capabilities to doing things that will help others, whether it is production lines at distilleries that are being converted to produce hand sanitiser, or small restaurants using their kitchens to prepare food and provide it to those living alone and the vulnerable, or a factory that produces soups asking hospitals to tell them what they need for their staff and they will deliver. And all of this at no cost.
Signs of hope for sure, signs that we are about more than just ourselves, that for business, it is not just about making another euro of profit. For people, such as my wonderful Italian friends, it is of being able to look forward to the dawn.
A better world?
Are these signs of hope telling us something about how the world might be when all of this is over? Is there a risk that we will forget, and return to the way that we were? To be sure, we did a lot that is right; it is not to suggest that our lives have been lived in completed decadence. No, that is not the case.
But we have been reminded about what is important. People matter. That in our society, there are people who day in an day out, go out and do jobs that matter to the rest of us. Yes, and without doubt, our doctors, nurses and carers. But also those who work in our retail stores, those who work in our factories and warehouses, those who drive goods around the country through the night so that they are on our shelves in the morning when we go to the store, those who collect our waste. Every day, people do vital jobs, and right now, I think we are appreciating them a little bit more than we did yesterday. At least, I hope that we are.
And the clean canals of Venice that I wrote of earlier, these too are signs that the way in which we live can be changed, and that when we change, nature that we have damaged can quickly return to its glory. As I write, thousands upon thousands here in Ireland and across the world, are working from home. I read a piece in The Irish Times newspaper during the week to say that for the first time ever in its history, that day’s newspaper had been produced without any journalist being in the office! And this was the same at The Examiner. No-one had to be there. And no-one has to be in the offices of so many places. So when all of this is over, is it really necessary that people jump in their cars every morning, or on to the bus, tram, train, or even their bike, and head for some multi-storey building somewhere to sit behind a desk? Is all this commuting completely necessary? The world of business has not stopped. Without planning for it, and testing it, are we demonstrating that the world of work has changed, just that we didn’t really grasp the change?
When this is all over, I think we are going to re-appreciate what it means to be with friends, what it means to be able to go to a pub and have a drink, or a restaurant and have a meal, to travel. I think we’ll re-appreciate how we must care for those less able than us, those older, those alone, those who are vulnerable.
Most of all, I hope that we re-appreciate what it means to be alive and if ever there was a reason to say a prayer of thanks to God, a prayer of thanks for what we have, and who we have, then it is now.
And of course, let’s not forget that the sun will rise again tomorrow morning.