What if you had never seen a disaster film?

Just for perspective, how many people here have seen at least one disaster film? I'm guessing most of us. If it was Contagion or Outbreak or any number of similar pandemic films, or films about other natural disasters, volcanoes, earthquakes, towering inferno, 9/11, alien invasions - too many to choose from.

We have some kind of imprint in our minds, however vague, of what something like this might look like. The medical professionals in protective gear, people in masks, empty streets, people isolated in their homes, everything closed, ordinary life turning on a dime in to a completely different existence.

And yes, I'm sure when many of us first heard about measures against covid19 it seemed unreal, like a movie, like something out of one of these films or science fiction, but still, we had this idea implanted in our brains that something like this could happen, however highly unlikely.

Now imagine that you had grown up without ever having seen a film. You never saw the news footage of 9/11 or Katerina in New Orleans or virus outbreaks in Africa and China. You may never even have heard of any of those, let alone seen them. You haven't read science fiction or disaster fiction.

In short you don't have that concept already there on the fringes of your awareness, those images, those storylines. That tiny bit of preparedness other people have absorbed from popular culture and the odd news report, even if they weren't actively following Bill Gates' TED talk on the subject or other warnings from epidemiologists and other scientists which have from time to time made the news.

Then boom, one day you are told that plague has struck, everyone has to go in to lockdown in their homes, no more shul, no more big weddings or funerals, no guests, no social gatherings, businesses and schools must close. How would you respond? It is so wild, so utterly out there that your response would likely be disbelief, suspicion, it makes no sense.

You wouldn't have that modicum of preparedness, nothing to equip you with the idea that this was it, fiction come to life, an epidemic from a distant corner of the globe landed right here at home. You wouldn't have that awareness to help you absorb the facts and adjust your understanding of reality.

I am quite sure that this has affected how the most traditional and insular communities have handled this outbreak, why many have been so slow to react, so slow to understand the severity of what is happening.

And yes, we may all yet suffer the consequences, but I think it's important that we try to put ourselves in their shoes and understand why they have responded as they have, and in doing so find constructive and effective ways to change their behaviour and in doing so protect and save us all.

In search of a destination

We are still in the adjustment phase, learning, adapting, trying to process this strange new world. We are used to having this neat long term perspective on our lives, a fixed rhythm of holidays, school dates, tax deadlines and sporting events. With all of that suddenly cancelled it can feel a lot as though our path is now devoid of signposts, that what is is now is what will always be with no horizon or destination.

There is a destination though, we just don't know how far or exactly what it will take to get there. We live in hope that sooner or later there will be a cure, an effective treatment, a vaccine - something that will allow us to return to our former lives.

My guess is they won't quite be the way they were, I don't think the world can go through a cataclysmic event like this and remain unchanged, but until we're there we won't know entirely what the post-covid 19 world will look like, how similar to our past existence, what changes might be permanent, what will be slight course corrections.

Bottom line though is that most of this is out of our hands. It might be weeks, months, more. It might be a blip in our routines, it might change our societies forever. But right now that is all beyond us.

Right now our worlds have shrunk to our here and now at home and our horizon isn't planning next year's summer break with the kids or a visit with the grandparents but the coming week's meal plan and juggling the logistics of WFH and a gaggle of kids.

If you are a natural planner think short term, sort out your kitchen, work out what stock you have and how long you can manage between grocery runs, re-organise your house - pick all sorts of short term jobs that let you indulge that planning instinct and help you to feel busy and useful in the face of so many things you can't control or influence. Feather your nest, spruce up your "castle", plan things you can control and can make a difference in.

If you are handy sew masks for a local hospital or raise funds to help with purchasing the sort of vital protective gear so many otherwise developed nations seem woefully short of. Plant a vegetable patch, at once something to do with your kids and something to ease the stress of going out to the shops. Working the soil soothes the soul and helps to adjust our focus on the world. Phone some elderly relatives or neighbours shut in for their own protection. Find ways to make a difference, however small, helping yourself by helping others.

I hope these suggestions help you to find some peace and calm in the uncertainty of our global predicament. These are just some suggestions off the top of my head, by no means a one size fits all recommendation. Above all we need patience and perspective to weather this one out, take each day as it comes.

Hummous

Truly the apocalypse must be near because my DH asked for dinner suggestions and I said why not rustle up some hummous in the blender. So he did.

So far so normal.

But then a curious thing happened. He TASTED the hummous. He spread some on a cucumber and not only did he like it, he said it was, and I quote: "incredible, downed it whole".


My DH who has hated hummous his entire life, would never taste my homemade hummous or restaurant hummous or supermarket container hummous tasted hummous. And loved it.

Aharit hayamim.

There was also roast beets with feta, veggie sticks, leftover red (tomato-veg) soup, homemade wholewheat bread, fresh fruit smoothies and of course, homemade hummous.

While you are home with your children

I'm seeing a ton of people who are suffering anxiety and feeling overwhelmed by all the school assignments, the schedules, the charts, the game plans. Folks, breathe.

Yes, for some people that degree of organisation, school at home as it were, works great, and good luck to them.

Everyone is different though and there are many ways to homeschool, including unschooling and experiential learning. Don't feel that just because a lot of people seem to be doing it one way, you have to as well.

Everyone is adjusting to a radically new situation. You and your children need time to adjust and process what is happening too. Some people are great at just slipping in to this new reality. Many people are going to need time to figure out what works for their family.

Many kids need time to decompress from their regular school schedule and ease in to a different type of routine at home, whether that includes simply following their own interests, adhering to distance learning programmes from school or more group family projects you want to work on with your kids.

You might find you have no choice but to allow way more screen time than you normally would, you may find that after a while the kids get bored with screens and decide to get creative of their own initiative.

There is no right way except what helps you and your family get through this unprecedented situation in the healthiest, happiest and most well adjusted way. For each family the formula will be slightly different.

Final point, remember that this is happening all over the world. Your kids are not going to flunk out of life because they may end up missing a few weeks or months or even a year of school. Everyone is in the same boat. "Falling behind" has a very different meaning when most of the world is out of school right now.

If crucial material is missed, well, your kids won't be the only ones missing it. Schools all over are going to have to make adjustments to their own teaching plans, schedules and curriculum when God Willing life is able to get at least somewhat back to normal and schools resume. This isn't what you need to focus on now.

Breathe, do what your family needs to do to keep the home environment as stable and calm as possible while everyone is stuck home together. Be-Ezrat Hashem we will all get through this and come out on the other side with a new perspective on family, life and hopefully plenty of humourous anecdotes too.

A bit of theatre

A while ago DH, teen and I auditioned for a musical. Well DH and teen planned to audition and somehow I went along for a lark because a relative was around to babysit. We all ended up getting parts. First rehearsal was supposed to be last Thursday in Jerusalem but for some reason it did not take place, can you guess why? People got creative though and this evening we had an online Zoom rehearsal for the opening scene. It was silly, it was complicated, it was fun and funny. I have no idea if this play will ever make it to stage, certainly not as scheduled because who knows when we will next be able to meet in person as a group to rehearse, let alone when theatre will be safe to open again. In the meantime we are planning to rehearse over Zoom. To tape choreographies to practice, record people singing and speaking their parts so that the show runners can get a feel for how everyone is doing and how it all comes together. It's ambitious and not the perfect platform for such an endeavour, but for teen in particular, this is a great project for right now. Stuck in our respective our homes we are learning lines and songs and trying to figure our out video instructions for dance routines within the confines of our bedrooms.

There can be no half-measures, we must take this seriously now

The Torah says "vehai bahem" - you shall live by them. Valuing life is at the core of our culture and yet so many Torah observant Jews right now seem to be fine with risking thousands of lives for the sake of davening with a minyan, having Shabbat meals with guests and learning in yeshiva. Really, these aspects of our lifestyle are worth risking thousands of lives of our brothers and sisters?

Is your right to tfila betzibur, to play in a playground, to have company on Shabbat, so important that you don't mind risking spreading a potentially lethal disease with no known cure or vaccine that apparently can do severe damage even to many of those who survive it? Do you have the right to risk the elderly and the immunocompromised for the sake of going about your daily life as you please?

What happened to kol Yisrael areivim zeh lazeh? What happened to venishmartem meod lenafshoteikhem?

I could understand if Bibi got up last night at the press conference and announced that the only cure for Covid 19 was to eat pork and and burn a sefer Torah, even then, one could argue that for pikuah nefesh, maybe even then one would have to go along with this.

But this is not what was announced at the press conference last night. They asked people to self-isolate, to stay home as much as possible, they closed malls, theatres, cinemas, schools, gannim, wedding halls, to stop people gathering in large crowds. And you think that somehow shuls and yeshivot are immune? You haven't heard of the rabbis who've accidentally infected their worshippers? The shul goer who caused a community wide outbreak in New Rochelle?

This can't be a halfway thing. Stop inviting. Stop socialising in person. Stop hanging out in playgrounds. Stop going to minyan. Just stop. These are not normal times, this is an unknown virus, everyone is stil learning how to fight it. Better to err on the side of extreme caution, at the expense of inconvenience, at the expense of the economy, at the expense of sacrificing big gatherings for seder or tfila betzibur, and by doing so save lives, than to wait until it is too late and our health system is so overwhelmed that people die for lack of care, when they could have been otherwise saved.

I would rather next Purim you all laugh at me as an idiot for "overreacting" but that we are all alive and well and able to laugh about it than for has veshalom next Purim be turned in to a time of mourning for all the lives that could have been saved if only if only everyone in the community had done what was necessary to fight this plague.

From my garden

 I was lazily watching a lone swallow hunting on the wing in an otherwise empty sky when all of a sudden I noticed that one level up the sky really wasn't so empty.

At first just a few specks, then they gradually drew nearer, a handful in an elegant v-formation performing a graceful ballet across the sky, adjusting the angle, slightly changing their course but always maintaining their positions and careful distance from one another even as the shape changed to line astern and then a u, before at once disintergrating into a melee of birds, swirling like a dust devil as they climbed ever higher on the thermals, higher and higher until they were mere specks again eventually disappearing behind a thin layer of cloud.

Looking up I could see another wave beyond the palm tree and the neighbouring building, masses of them, scores, then hundreds, all thronging together in several distinct layers in two distinct groups, no longer resembling a puny dust devil but eddying, churning and twisting like two mighty tornado columns, each consisting of hundreds, maybe thousands of cranes.

Like the previous flock they too vanished from sight beyond the tallest buildings.

I noticed a straggler and tailed it with my binoculars, relishing the chance to get a closer look at one of the cranes. Then I noticed another, and another and all at once over the other end of the garden another great flock, its members jockeying for positions on the thermals in a swirling dance overhead.

And then they were gone.

It was later in the afternoon now, small groups of swallows and alpine swifts whirled and darted at varying altitudes above me, chasing the no-see-um bugs on which they like to dine, the scimitar shaped swifts higher up, screaming as they soared, the swallows sometimes so low that I felt some might skim the top of my head.

It struck me then that in all the time I'd been sitting on my porch watching the birds, in all the time I'd been pottering around my garden, I had not seen a single aircraft in the sky. Not a one.

There were no big jets lumbering in low on approach to the airport, sometimes so low that I'll swear it sounds like they are planning to land in my bedroom. No hard to spot jets way up high only I and my youngest son could usually make out. No contrails painting patterns up above.

The skies were empty save for a few odd clouds, the birds and the bugs.

In the garden itself there was continuous avian traffic.

Hooded crows made use of the twigs and branches littering the ground after this weekend's freak Middle East cyclone storm, flying back and forth in a constant train with nesting material in their beaks.

Jays hopped from tree to fence and back again, finding quiet perches from which to nosh on their contraband nuts and fruits or rasping at one another across the branches. It seems early in the season to me but one jay seemed to be feeding a fledgling.

Now and again a flock of pigeons wheeled across the sky in a circuit of the buildings before coming to rest again on the same set of rooftops they usually favour.

Up in some dense trees I could hear the cackle, whistles and trills of the annoying invasive mynas, who from time to time zoomed across the garden for no apparent reason or picked a fight with one another.

Bulbuls, sunbirds and warblers filled the air with bubbling exuberant song from their unseen hideouts

Somewhere in one of the neighbouring gardens a white breasted kingfisher let out its distinctive rattling call, answered by its mate perched on a satellite dish on the neighbouring building.

Beyond the garden fence the world was confused. The noise of merry children playing reached me from the park beyond the buildings, children who were not supposed to be gathering in groups even outdoors, but who's parents couldn't or wouldn't keep them away from the playground in this glorious spring sunshine.

Somewhere nextdoor a neighbour was doing renovations, the odd thud or short staccato drill breaking the calm. There was no hum of traffic though, no loud buses or trucks, just the odd car or motorbike, the sound of their engines distinct because they were so few.

I did a little circuit of my yard to inspect the damage from the storm. Lots of snapped twigs, clusters of leaves, some palm tree nuts, a dislodged piece of fencing. The crazed wind had blown the last of the blossoms from the almond tree. A sorry looking bird of paradise flower leaning on the ground, its proud stalk bent. Otherwise all was well.

The peach tree growing on the verge beyond my fence was in full pink spring regalia. New reddish growth of leaves adorned the carob and pomegranate, while the orange and lemon sported white-pink buds, and even a few blossoms. The rose had also started to bloom and the Afghani mulberry had fresh leaves and clusters of long pale green berries that probably won't ripen for another six weeks at least.

From one of the buildings behind my garden I caught a faint whiff of bleach wafting along the breeze, a jarring note amidst the sweet scent of orange blossom and jasmine from the surrounding gardens. Someone had removed the screen and shutters from their window and was hard at work, cleaning for Pesah or disinfecting in case of contagion, they all seem one and the same about now.

Spring in the time of corona.