Insects aren’t the only creatures that have emerged this summer
Just like the cicadas that have been lying dormant for 17 years only to reappear one night in a Biblical-like plague, Northern Kentuckians are back on the streets again following the COVID pandemic.
For over a year, we have been burrowed in basement virtual offices and communicating via Zoom meetings and social media. Kroger has been delivering groceries to our homes. Skyline was giving us our chili fix via drive-thru. And daily conversations with our neighbors were communicated through masks designed to render casual speech inaudible.
Me: “Umf arg Babble?”
Neighbor: Nods head. “Erk sla.”
Talking to neighbors became as productive as listening to the Swedish Chef on The Muppet Show.
People began their maskless emergence from their suburban cocoons sometime in June. When bans were lifted, non-socially distanced swarms of people filled streets, bars, restaurants and other entertainment venues like, well, like the cicadas filled anything green in our neighborhoods.
One would have thought that the newly found social emergence a reason to celebrate. Not today. Pent-up frustrations pushed parades and celebrations aside for fistfights about cutting park ride lines at Kings Island.
It seemed that, just like the cicadas, the emerging human horde immediately started making deafening noises so loud it became a distracting irritant to everyday life. Everybody had an opinion regarding everything and made sure everyone else within listening distance could hear it.
COVID was a government conspiracy …
“Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”
The COVID could only be spread via …
“Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”
The COVID virus was created in a lab somewhere …
“Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”
No wait. I kind of believe that one a bit myself.
Anyway, everyone had an opinion on everything. And with the newly found maskless, non-socially distant rebirth of American society, everyone felt compelled to let everyone within listening distance know about their thoughts.
My favorite human cicada buzz came one day when I was in line at the grocery store. Someone was talking loudly on their smart phone through those ear buds that make it look like people have two Marlboro cigarettes hanging from their ear canals.
“I’m not getting the vaccine,” he proclaimed loudly (and with a pompous smile meant for those of us standing around him). “I saw a video on Facebook where they identified the chip created by Bill Gates that the government is going to use to follow us around.”
“Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”
This is my favorite buzz of the entire pandemic. People—blathering on cell phones containing a GPS device, apps for Facebook and Twitter ablaze, while they are putting PIN numbers into a grocery store device designed to track what they eat—lack a self-awareness defying description. Even someone tucked in seclusion from the world in a hand-made cabin would get a chuckle out of this buzz.
And judging from the summer news stories on Bill Gates, he is more concerned about his divorce from his wife than following you to the local grocery store.
I get it. We all took off our government-mandated masks. But treatment of a fellow human being is governed by societal mores of common respect, not government masks. Removing masks does not equate to removing the filters of common decency.
Oh wait… I just did it myself.
“Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”
Maybe it’s time for all of us to follow the lead of the cicada and burrow ourselves back into our homes until we are ready to come out again.
Rick Robinson’s latest political thriller,
Opposition Research, was the Grand Prize winner at the New York and Paris Book Festivals.
