Doing stuff we used to do

On Sunday, the premier announced that we could go outside without a mask. Masks have been mandatory outside of the home since July. Masks are still required inside: in schools and shops and public transit. But when outside and not around other people, we can go without a mask. 

On Monday, putting on my shoes to go for a morning walk, I wondered, should I wear a mask?

I wore it.

On Tuesday, putting on my shoes to go for a walk, I wondered, should I wear a mask?

I put it in my pocket. Part way through my walk, I pulled it out of my pocket and put it on my face. 

On Wednesday, putting on my shoes to go for a walk, I left my mask off.

I walked around the park with no mask. 

Most of the other people in the park had no mask. They were smiling. We were all smiling. You could see all our smiles without the masks. It is a good time for smiling.

 

We went out to eat, seated, at an actual restaurant over the weekend. Restaurants are open for seating, provided you sign in. You can sit at the table and order food. Someone else cooks it and brings it to you. You can eat it all while sitting there at the table. At the end, someone takes your dirty dishes away and washes them for you. It is amazing. 

We ate at a restaurant on the beach. It was really really nice. There was sunshine and sand and palm trees. And someone else did the cooking and the dishes. And we ate the food right there, without having to take it somewhere else.

There is a whole new world on the other side of lockdown.

Hope

I left the bedroom window open overnight for the first time this season. I awoke to the smell of cut grass and sprinklers, and the morning call of birds. Summer.

Today, summer feels bittersweet. 

I know that the bitter is mostly due to the effects of a lingering migraine, which blasted through my brain yesterday morning, pressing fire against my skull and nausea to my gut, and left, as usual, an inexplicable sadness in its wake. The sadness is the migraine.

But let's take the sadness anyway, and walk with it a little ways. 

Summer growing up was full of sprinklers and cut grass. Cool mornings with the promise of afternoon heat. Eating breakfast by the plate glass window in the kitchen of my grandparents' house. 

Grandpa ate slowly, and talked about the world and politics, and how a solid education and a heart in the right place could change the world. Grandma had less to say, but the good food was her doing. Homemade yogurts and jams and breads and bottled fruits. Summer mornings, the air smelled like hope and the promise that I could reach the stars if I stretched high enough. 

November, 2020. After many years of living in Australia, I still laugh at the seasons flipped upside down. Who would have thought November could mean sunlight and sprinklers?

But it is summer only here, far far away from my grandparents' house, which was sold long long ago, and renovated, and no longer matches the house in my memories. Grandma was buried before my grown child was born, Grandpa not long after.

And what of their hope, spread thick with strawberry freezer jam on a summer morning? Is there still hope in a world that is falling fast towards the deep, cold darkness of winter?

Longfellow walked in the darkness, deep within its wintery grip, and in the depth of its bitterness wrote "God is not dead nor doth He sleep."

I don't know if Longfellow was right. The God of my childhood, who protected me in his hands while my heart was good, and guided my people into the light, I think that God never was. My people walk themselves into darkness. Hatred. Mistrust. Scorn. They walk that way willingly, without looking back. 

It is summer in Australia, today barely touched by the darkness and cold wrapping its boney fingers around the north. We have light they do not have. We have freedom they do not have. We have warmth.

Perhaps we can grow hope here this summer. 

Pushups

I can do pushups.

Specifically, I can do four pushups in a row, all the way down, all the way back up. Four. Legs straight. Arms pretty wide, but whatever. All the way down, chin to the floor, all the way back up. 

Four.

A year ago, I was in the US, struggling to lift my suitcase onto the overhead compartment in the train. I sat myself down and said, "Self, you need to get some arm muscles." 

In retrospect, I am glad I didn't talk myself into buying a gym membership for gaining arm muscle, as gyms closed a few months later and only just reopened. Instead, I talked myself into spending just ten minutes a day trying to get some muscle. Just ten minutes per day. Ten.

Mondays = arms, Tuesdays = abs, Wednesdays = legs, then repeat. Sunday off. 

I've missed plenty of days -- probably at least one or two every week. But my average over each week has been pretty good. I typically do a bunch of exercise on Sunday to make up for all the days I've skipped. But ten minutes only, that's somehow psychologically ok, typically. 

Which brings us to pushups. A year ago, I couldn't do any pushups. Not the full ones. I found an app, to build up to doing 100 in a row! Start by doing two in a row a few times on Day-One.

I started on my knees, and built up to being able to do about ten pushups from my knees. Then I switched to pushups on a chair, and built up to doing about six. Then I managed to almost do one full pushup once. 

Anyhow, over some time, I managed to do one, then two in a row. After that, it took me at least a month to get myself to the point where I could do Day-One of the 100 pushups challenge. But I did it. I did Day-One! So I switched to Day-Two. 

Day-Two requires doing four pushups in a row, twice, plus some threes.

I have been trying to achieve Day-Two for a very long time now, and yesterday I managed that fourth pushup. At least one time. 

At this rate, in three years I will have progressed to Day-Ten, at which point I will be able to do eleven push ups. Eleven in a row. All the way down, all the way up.  

I am going to have meteoric strength. 

And then at some point, I'll start working on lifting suitcases again.

The story of Melbourne's wave two

I don't know if any of my readers are in Melbourne, in the Australian state of Victoria, besides myself and Tim. Through the last few months we have been living a part of remarkable history, and this week, we have met a joyful milestone in this history. 

It is time that I blogged about it.

In mid to late June our case numbers of covid-19 started rising. In early July, the premier of Victoria (the governor) announced that we needed to start taking measures to get the outbreak under control. The day that this was announced, we had 191 new cases. Two weeks later, on 19 July, there were 321 new cases. Face coverings became mandatory. On the 30 July, there were 721 new cases.

On August 2, the premier announced a state of disaster. What we were doing wasn't working. New, stronger measures went into effect immediately, including an 8 pm curfew. Residents could only go out of their house for one hour for exercise each day. One designated shopper per household could shop for essential supplies at most once per day. No more that two people from one household could be together outside at a time. No home visits. No travel beyond 5km away from home without a permit. Six weeks minimum under these restrictions. School back online for everyone.

Honestly it was a relief. It had been so hard, watching the numbers climb day by day, while sending Jonathan off to high school, wondering if his school would be the next to be closed. It was a relief that measures were going to be taken to get infections under control. 

We changed our habits. We managed to find an hour when all three of our family members could go out together to exercise most days. Because we could only be together in pairs, we took walks in twenty minute stretches around the park. I walked 20 minutes alone, 20 minutes with Tim, 20 minutes with Jonathan. I had already been working from home, online. Everything stayed online, including my teaching, and my meetings with postgraduate students.

It was harder for my postgraduate students than for me, I think. One of them was living alone. She had been hoping to pick up more tutoring, but the jobs dried up. No visitors, smaller income. Luckily, she had parents who said they would help her out financially. But it hurt, after having been independent for several years. And yet, even isolated with financial difficulties, she showed up to our online meetings mostly cheerful, relieved that measures were being taken. 

Another student had moved from another country at the beginning of the year. He wondered if he could just go back, and work remotely from there. After discussions with the graduate chair, he decided the paperwork, and uncertainty about his ability to return, wouldn't be worth it. 

A third student's good friend was in a terrible accident, and the lockdown meant she couldn't visit, even to say goodbye. But week after week, they all showed up to our online meetings.

After over 700 cases reported on 5 August, our daily numbers began to slowly decline. By 12 August, there were 400. By 19 August, there were 208. On the 29 August, 90 new cases were reported -- under 100 for the first time in weeks and weeks. 

On 6 September, with only 62 daily cases reported, the premier stood before Victoria and delivered unhappy news. The lockdown was working. But the modelling predicted that if we opened up now, those 62 cases would grow, and grow more, and we would be in the middle of a horrifying third wave at Christmas time. With the input of many people -- epidemiologists, mathematicians, scientists, psychologists, social workers -- the state government had determined that more weeks in lockdown were needed. The premier released steps for reopening and targets that needed to be met. In particular, businesses couldn't open until cases were down to a 14-day average of five cases per day, estimated to happen in mid to late October.

Honestly, his announcement was a relief. Tim had been following the Australia coronavirus reddit page, and the modelling coming out of that site had been almost spot on. As a mathematician, I trusted the models. The last thing I wanted was to let up restrictions too early. Even my postgraduate students agreed. It was harder on them than anyone, but they also trusted the modelling, and they were happy to wait a few more weeks to suppress the virus to safer levels. 

The media, however, or rather Murdoch-owned media, went ballistic. They began publishing everything in their power to discredit the premier. They had no productive counter-proposals to get the virus under control and the economy on track. They just wanted to spawn chaos. Their plan was chaos by Christmas. Most people I know were shocked, and saw through their headlines, and stuck with the premier -- his approval rating was over 70% even with the media in a full-on war against him.

Interestingly, of all the people I work with, neighbours, colleagues, friends, postgraduate students living in isolation in a pandemic with no jobs -- it was only my church friends who listened to the media. Three of my friends from the ward started reposting Murdoch propaganda on facebook. Unlock now! Let us free! I am so glad that my religion is a huge minority here. I tried to reason with them -- mathematics, guys, mathematics. Patience, guys, just a little more time -- patience. But there was no reasoning. Once it became clear that nothing I said would change their behaviour, I stopped their posts. I couldn't take the negative pressure on top of everything else negative coming out of a pandemic. I could only hope others would stay the course.

Melbourne was patient. Frustrated, but patient. On the 13 September, there were 41 cases reported. The curfew was eased until 9:00 pm. We could go out twice per day, for two hours, not just one. And relaxing in the park was permitted, not just exercise. Singles were allowed to form social bubbles. My postgraduate student was able to visit her parents in Melbourne for the first time in weeks. Playgrounds were open, and the public parks were totally packed. 

On the 27 September, with 16 cases reported, the curfew was lifted. People were permitted to meet in groups of up to five people, outdoors, with masks, staying at least 1.5 meters apart. 

A colleague from work who lives nearby contacted me. Did I want to take a walk around the local park, and catch up? Our 45 minute walk around the park perimeter was the first meeting I had had with someone outside my family since March, I think. The next week I met up with another colleague, same park. Same walk. 

On the 28 September there were only five cases reported: our first day under 10 since June. 

The start of October was stubborn: 5 cases. 10 cases. 10 cases. 14 cases. The numbers came out every morning around 9:30 am. We were aiming for an average of under five to reopen business again, so days stubbornly over 10 were disheartening. More pressure from the media.... Ignore it, Melbourne. We were still tracking the model. We would still be ok with patience.

One case announced on 16 October. Only one!

On 19 October, the curfew was lifted. The two-hour outdoor time limit lifted. Groups of up to 10 people, from two households, allowed. Outdoor sports such as tennis and golf opened. We could travel up to 25 kilometres from home.

On 26 October -- just this last week -- there were zero new cases and zero deaths reported. Zero. Our first zero since June.

There was mass rejoicing on Twitter. Friends across the state congratulated each other. It was remarkable. 

I have never lived through something so truly remarkable. 

What an amazing accomplishment.

And the next day: on 27 October, zero new cases again.

Last Tuesday night at midnight, restaurants, cafes, and pubs, which had been open for takeaway only, were allowed to seat people, with restrictions. On Wednesday, we walked Jonathan to the train station in the morning. There were lines outside the cafes and bakeries. Couples sipping a morning drink on a sidewalk table, families with school children in uniform stopping for breakfast on their way to school. Everyone smiling. Euphoria.

In one more week, our 25km radius will be lifted. Gyms will open. Gathering limits for weddings, funerals, Sunday services will increase. 

In mid-July, when we had over 700 cases in a day, that seemed bad. Back then, England and France had about the same number of cases per day as we did. Today, Victoria reported zero cases again -- for the fourth time in a week. England reported 24,000, and France reported nearly 50,000. 

As a world, we are dealing better with this virus. We are learning strategies to treat it. It isn't as deadly as it was when it emerged. These are the things I keep telling myself as my little brother's family catches the disease, his father in law is hospitalized, and the hospitals are turning people away where my parents live.

And yet, I am so happy to be living here in Victoria, to have been part of something amazing. 

They said we couldn't do it. They said it would never happen. 

We did it.

It happened.

It is one of the most amazing, positive things I have ever lived through.