Covid 2020, Fever 1793

2020 has been a year like no other. One of the dreadful things—among many in 2020—was the outbreak of Covid-19. Originally dismissed as a hoax by the president, the Corona virus sickened 18.7 million and killed 329,000 Americans by Christmas. And Dr. Fauci, an infectious disease expert, tells us that the worst is yet to come.

In the past, America has endured other epidemics and pandemics—the 1918 flu pandemic was one. Another was the yellow fever epidemic that swept through Philadelphia 227 years ago. An article, "Philadelphia Under Siege: The Yellow Fever of 1793," gives plenty of background about that epidemic.

Wanting to know about how people coped with epidemics in early America, I recently read Fever 1793, by Laurie Halse Anderson. 

I'd read books by Anderson before and enjoyed them. I mentioned her YA novel Speak in this blogpost from 2011. I thought I might also enjoy Fever 1793. I did.

Classified as "historical fiction for readers 10 to 14," Fever 1793 is a good—and informative—read  for adults, too. Given the events of the last ten months, we can relate to the fourteen-year-old main character's feelings and struggles. The back cover blurb provides a concise summary:

Like the main character Mattie, many of us today "must also learn quickly how to survive" in a society "turned upside down" and ravaged by the Covid-19 pandemic. Like Mattie, we've had to change our way of life and our expectations.

Fever 1793 begins on August 16th when Mattie wakes up:

—From p. 1 of the 2002 paperback edition

Notice how much information Anderson packs into this short passage: it's early in the morning, a mosquito bothers Mattie, her room is small, her mother wants her to get to work in the coffee house, and it's sweltering hot. The mosquito is a good clue for the reader. 

[In 1793, no one knew that mosquitos carried the virus that spread yellow fever. While folks knew from past experiences that the fever vanished after a frost or two, the disease was blamed on miasma—polluted air—during the hot weather. Some people tried to escape the fever by avoiding those who weren't family members; others escaped to the country. Philadelphia was the nation's capital then, but the government shut down and President Washington, Secretary of State Jefferson, and other legislators went home until conditions improved.]

Polly never makes it to work, and many other people in the neighborhood succumb to the fever. When Mattie's mother becomes ill, Dr. Benjamin Rush treats her by bleeding and other standard remedies of the day. Mrs. Cook, lingering on the brink of death, insists that Mattie and her elderly grandfather leave the city to visit friends on their farm. She says that Eliza, their African employee, can look after her while keeping the coffeehouse going. Mattie and her grandfather arrange for a farmer to drive them in his wagon, but they do not reach their destination. Problems ensue (but I won't give away any plot twists). But they finally make it back to Philadelphia where the city is now a ghost town, Mattie's mother is nowhere to be found, the coffeehouse has been vandalized, and there's no food to be had. More problems ensue, but a devastated Mattie is resilient and takes on an adult's responsibilites. Eventually, she finds Eliza, who has been working with the Free African Society, a group which assists newly freed Africans.

Mattie and Eliza work together to look after some who are affected by fever. In October, frost comes and in the next month people start returning to their homes, farmers return to market, Mattie and Eliza reopen the coffeehouse, and President Washington returns. Life is not as it was, but the worst is over and there is hope.

Fever 1793 is a powerful book and one that I highly recommend. Anderson has done impeccable research to make the story believable and compelling. 

~

Winning Virtually

Recently I've seen news stories about how virtual learning isn't going well because so many students are failing: "Virtual learning is a real struggle; failing grades up across America, research suggest" has appeared in several news sources; "Schools confront 'off the rails numbers of failing grades" is one AP story that appeared in my local paper. Even though some would like to get back to in-person schooling, that likely won't happen soon: "Schools want to end online classes, but COVID19 class might send everybody home" appeared in USA today;

But what if some students who didn't attend school succeeded? After all, a lot of home-schooled kids do fine or even excel. And many are turning to home-schooling instead of virtual schooling.

In October, I won the “What If I Graduated from Homeschool” short story contest that my Lake Writers group had online. Word limit for the story was 500 words. 

My entry: 

Easiest way for me to get educated—if I didn’t want to walk two miles down the mountain and then ride a bus for an hour—was being homeschooled.

“Time it takes to git to school, you could have both them cows milked, all the eggs gathered, plus the stock fed,” was Daddy’s answer when I wondered what real school was like. “You can learn at home.”

I guess he was right.

At first I used workbooks and lesson plans some company sent us. Three years ago, when a tower was built one ridge over, we got internet. I went through as many lessons as I could. Finally Mama said, “It’s time you graduated.”

Our county expects homeschoolers to take a test for a diploma, so one morning Daddy drove me to the school board. We were too early, so he left me there waiting while he went to Tractor Supply and Walmart.

Before long, an old car limped into the lot. I walked over and asked the driver if he needed help with the flat.

“I’m about to call somebody.” He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket.

“No need to do that,” I said. “I can change your tire. Where’s your jack?”

He didn’t look like he believed me, but he got his jack, lug wrench, and spare tire from the trunk. I got to work.

“Isn’t that too heavy for you?”

“No sir. I’ve done this plenty of times.”

In ten minutes I was finished. He offered to pay me, but I refused. “Wasn’t any trouble,” I said.

He thanked me, drove to a parking space, and went to the building’s front door. I wiped my dirty hands on the grass that was still wet with dew. Soon a lady pulled into the parking lot. When she went in, I figured the building must be open, so I went in too.

Halfway down the hall was an open door, so I figured that was where to go. I told the lady why I was there, and she told me to take a seat at a table that had an open laptop on it. She explained how I had ninety minutes to take the test online.

I finished in an hour.

“It’ll take fifteen minutes to get your score,” she said. “Then the superintendent will interview you. You can wait in the hall.”

I went to the water fountain and the restroom and then sat on a bench and waited. Before long, I was called in.

Turns out the superintendent was the man whose tire I’d changed. He thanked me again, told me I’d passed the test, and asked about the subjects I’d studied online. I told him and mentioned that Daddy had taught me carpentry and auto repair.

He smiled and said, “You’re officially a homeschool graduate. We’ll mail your diploma in a few days. Congratulations, Emma Lou Smith!” 

~

Space for Senior Living?

 I've entered the geriatric stage of my existence, so it's only natural I notice ads that target my age group. Not long ago, a full-page ad for a "senior living facility" appeared in the local paper. 

Here's a section of the ad that shows what the typical apartment looks like. Even though the resolution on my scan isn't good, you get the idea: it's a bright and efficient apartment.

As an elderly cripple, I knew right away that this wasn't the kind of place where I'd want to live. I don't know if the rather bland furniture shown in the living room is included or not, but it—and the apartment in general—certainly aren't practical for me. Here's why:

• I need a rollator to walk any distance. My rollator wouldn't fit between the flimsy coffee table and the sofa or between the stools and the easy chair. (Why would there be stools? Do the designers of this place think old crippled folks can actually climb up on stools?)
• The tables in front of the sofa look flimsy. I can't tell if they have glass tops or not, but they're the sort of tables that would give way if I stumbled and fell into them. 
• Because the rug doesn't cover the whole floor, I'm likely to catch my toe on the edge of it and trip. The un-rugged floor space looks slick. If—and sometimes when—I fall, I want to land on carpet, and I need sturdy furniture to grab onto so I don't fall all the way down. 
• It would be next to impossible for me to get up from that sofa and the ottomans if I were able to sit down on them in the first place. (Do old folks really sit on ottomans? How?) I need furniture that will allow me to grab onto it if necessary and that will stay in place if I have to use it to pull myself off the floor. (That's why I currently have This End Up furniture. It's rugged and stays put.)
• I tend to spill coffee and stuff, so that light upholstery would be covered in coffee stains in no time
• I prefer a bit more privacy than those big floor-to-ceiling windows give. Without curtains or blinds (I couldn't tell from the picture if they had any), those windows would let in a lot of glare, not to mention the stares of passersby. And what about birds not realizing the windows are there and crashing into them?  Those big windows would be a pain to clean. I can't reach that high and I dare not climb on anything. I also like windowsills to hang onto when I look out the window. 
• The view from the windows seems to be another building. Two decades of living in a rural area has spoiled me—I want my view to be woods and fields and nature.
• The cramped kitchen—too small for me to navigate my rollator—is open to a dining area, so diners would have to see all the mess from meal preparation. And all those counter angles and edges are just waiting to cause an accident. 

This whole "living space" doesn't fit my idea of living. It's too sparse and depressing. I like to be surrounded by comfortable clutter. And books. Where is the space for bookcases? I have bookcases in five different rooms of my current "living space."

Where's the computer set-up and the printer in that apartment? Sometimes I use the iMac, the laptop, and maybe one of the iPads simultaneously. They all fit on my big—and sturdy—desk. Where would I put my desk and all my techno-stuff in that "living space"?

How could I manage my gang of cats in an apartment like that? Sure, they'd like their big cat tower in front of the big windows where they could watch passing—or crashing—birds, but where would I put their litter boxes? And how would I close the cats out of the dining area? And where's the floor space to put down a few dishes of food?

I'm lucky to have a house functions well for old folks—a kitchen roomy enough to maneuver in, a laundry area in the kitchen, a minimum of steps to enter the house, a dining room and living room closed off by doors that keep the cats out), a lower level with space for a care-giver (and an outside entrance onto a patio), a study for computers and printers, etc.

Whether you're thinking about growing older where you are (as I am) or moving to a more accessible place, here's an article about 8 simple tips to designing living spaces for seniors that you might find useful. 

~