Here the coronavirus reminds us of the plagues of old – they were severe but then they were over. Our plague has no end in sight so we will be quarantined for a long time.
By DAVID GEFFENHealth Ministry inspectors speak with a woman who is in self quarantine as a precaution against coronavirus spread in Hadera, Israel March 16, 2020(photo credit: REUTERS/RONEN ZEVULUN)
I am very fortunate that a bird comes to visit almost every day. He moves around on the ledge of the window next to my room where my bed and my computer are found. He begins to “speak” to me, tweeting away. He looks at me and I look at him. I begin to make some strange sounds, learned when I was taking the “Bird Study” merit badge.He cocks his head; looks at me with his piercing eyes. Seems he understands.I keep making the sounds. He grows tired of my efforts so he starts to “sing.” Then he soars away. I am distraught, but I always feel that he will return. He is my friend.Quarantine for me is very hard to take. When I was about 10, I caught the measles, and I was put in quarantine at home and not permitted to go to school. My parents both worked, so I was alone. My grandparents, who lived three blocks away, were not permitted to visit me.Atlanta, where I lived, was filled with measles so quarantine for those who had it was essential. Since I was in Hebrew school, I did have a siddur, but I was not into praying that much. Once in a while the “Shema” or the “Amidah.” The most fun, from the front window of our apartment, was looking out and seeing the automobiles. I counted them for about a half an hour each time: mostly Fords, Plymouths, Dodges and Studebakers.Each one massive. Rarely a Cadillac, the most expensive car then. Every so often, the Washington Street streetcar would come by. Our apartment was on Washington Street southeast, a street straight in both directions. You could see up to Georgia Avenue, which was a main intersection.That crossing was difficult for me to observe, because a few stores up on the commercial Georgia Avenue was the Manhattan Kosher Bakery. There I bought seedless rye, pumpernickel and challa. Of course, the baker, Mr. Novack, my friend, gave me a few cookies, what a treat.My real outlet was the radio. I had never really listened to the radio much – of course no TV. I had listened to the famous Ezzard Charles-Jersey Joe Walcott fight. A surprise Walcott victory.When I was living in Delaware before aliyah, I was the clergy selected to give a Memorial Day prayer at the Delaware Memorial Bridge. I saw that on the program Arnold Cream, county supervisor, was there. As I stood there, all of a sudden a mountain of a man walked up – I gasped it was Jersey Joe Walcott, the name he fought under. I had never seen someone so large and muscular in my life. I shook his hand and said quietly – I heard on the radio how you beat Ezzard Charles. He smiled. He knew I was a fan.Lastly on the radio was the commercial “Queen of Wheat is so good to eat – we have it every day.” Wouldn’t you know my mother gave me Queen of Wheat each morning before school. That commercial bored into my mind so much that until this day, it is very difficult for me to eat and swallow oatmeal of any kind.The Lone Ranger was my afternoon serial on the radio. “Hi Ho Silver Away” and the heels of the horse could be heard distinctly on the radio. Lastly, the program I was not supposed to hear, Stella Dallas. That was real life, relationships between men and women, I was told not to listen to it.So quarantine here in this eternal city brings back many memories. There I was spotted by the measles, which after a certain amount of time began to fade away. Done with disease, I was free. Here the coronavirus reminds us of the plagues of old – they were severe but then they were over. Our plague has no end in sight so we will be quarantined for a long time.
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