The Pandemic Lives

When I press pause and reflect on the covid pandemic years, I can’t help but conclude we overcompensated for the very real public health risks. For example, now that we know more about the virus, I’m with a lot of people who have concluded we errored in closing schools for as long as we did. One weekend, our former governor even closed an outdoor park.

Like our former Luv Guv, except for the elderly, immune compromised, and otherwise physically vulnerable, many of us kind of lost our minds.

I can’t help but wonder if a covid pandemic “abundance of caution” mindset lives on in ways that might be related to the widespread conspiracy thinking that is so prevalent these days. Why? Because of the way some educated people spent September spreading fear about the safety of our pristine local lake.

First, an admission. Yes, sporadically, usually in the spring, Ward Lake has algae blooms that make swimming unhealthy and unwise.

In early summer, a member of Facebook’s Olympia Triathlon Training Group posted this missive, “FYI, possible but not confirmed toxic algae bloom at Ward Lake.” That’s all it took for lots of people to lose their minds. Rightly or wrongly, I blame the covid pandemic.

Here’s what the County reported about the lake.

So, nevermind that there wasn’t enough algae present to even warrant a sample/reading, and that actual swimmers said the lake looked perfectly fine, an “abundance of caution” took hold to the point that triathlete meet ups were cancelled because “of a potential toxic algae bloom”. That phrase was like a spark that started a wildfire. People repeated the phrase, which acted like a wind whipping up the flames.

Fast forward to yesterday when someone organized a meet up. Then this from another member, “Have you checked their contamination levels – a couple of weeks ago they had high levels and said no swimming. Just FYI.”

Sigh. This is the fire jumping a demarcation line. Despite the County saying very matter of factly that there was NO reading, this person inexplicably lobbed “high levels” and “no swimming” into the mix. What the hell?!

I spent a glorious hour in the lake yesterday morning minutes before this back-and-forth. But maybe my lived experience isn’t a credible counterfactual to the abundance of caution. I don’t even believe in QAnon.

The Problem With ‘Self Care’

Self care is a concept, a lucrative subset of a 4 trillion dollar wellness industry, and a red-hot social fad that doesn’t do anything to address the underlying issues of why so many people are burned out at work and seriously anxious about an ever-growing list of things.

Because of the money now associated with self care, the purveyors of it have a vested interest in NOT helping resolve the underlying issue of frantic busyness that defines so many people’s daily lives. Granted, some of that frantic busyness is explained by people trying to eke out a living with too few jobs that pay a livable wage, but a lot of it is the result of social contagion. I run on the treadmill of life because you do.

We will mute the clarion call for self care when people will themselves to get sufficient sleep, eat healthy food, and be physically active.

My university is a classic case study in the ridiculousness of self care. All of a sudden, despite my colleagues’ tendencies to overwork, the leadership is talking about the importance of self care. We are like seriously overweight people who think we’ve found the miracle diet, but in this case, we’ll be fine if we just make time for a warm bubble bath at the end of our frantic days. And don’t forget the candle.

I predict all of the self care talk will have no medium or long-term effect on how faculty live their lives. But on the plus side, more bubble bath and candles will be sold.

How Much I Spent Today

How much of our consumption is the result of social contagion? More than we care to admit.

My day was wonderfully counter-cultural. $0 spent out-of-pocket. 

Lest I not kid myself about my minimalist street cred, the digital cash register was continuously updating in the background. The YMCA membership, property taxes, utilities, groceries, coffee beans, auto/house/health insurance, gasoline, internet and streaming services, digital and print subscriptions, the family’s cell-phones. And I’m sure I’m not accounting for some other recurring expenses.

Still, don’t I deserve some credit for saying “no thank you” to the legions of marketers and their super sales?