Apocalypse or not? Keeping a proper pandemic POV

Since COVID-19 came to this country, I’ve been hearing the word, “apocalypse,” more than usual. (Thank you, Mad Max.)

One newspaper headline asked, “Ashy apocalypse? No, just Memorial Day weekend in southern California.”

Another headline used the A-word like this: “Welcome to the apocalypse. Now is the time for an amphibious car.” Not too creative…or is it just me?

After the UT-UTEP game at DKR, one fan described the Bevo “Walk of Fame” as “just a few people – like the apocalypse.” Another used it to describe sitting in the stadium with less than 100,000 fans packed in like, well – you know.

All the changes brought by the pandemic are definitely difficult -- some more than others -- but are we truly witnessing an apocalypse?

Out of curiosity I looked up the meaning of this word. Here’s what I found in the Oxford Dictionary:

An “apocalypse” is (1) the complete, final destruction of the world, as described in the biblical book of Revelation, or (2) an event involving destruction or damage on an awesome or catastrophic scale.

We can assume – if or when it occurs – it will be in black-and-white with dust everywhere and riding motorcycles will be in style. However, I don’t think we’ve reached an apocalyptic point in Dripping Springs quite yet.

Residents up and down the West Coast may be closer to using the A-word legitimately.

A few years ago, I interviewed survivors from the fires in Paradise, California, and realized how fortunate I had been, returning home each day to find everything just the way I left it. I took it for granted. In Paradise, I spoke to a couple of empty nesters enjoying the good life in a beautiful spot. The day of the fire, they returned to their neighborhood and weren’t allowed to get to their home. Once they were, there was little left of their 45 years of life together.

When we spoke, they were living in a 22-foot trailer, borrowed from his sister. They had one pan, some spoons, forks, a paring knife and borrowed bedding. What struck me most about them -- they were fairly sure they’d rebuild and would make the best of the situation until that happened.

Last Friday, I spoke with my cousin, David. Two years ago, he and his wife sold their home in Dallas and built a new one in Rhododendron, Oregon – a place where they had vacationed for years. They had fallen in love with this place and, after they retired, they were living their dream in Rhododendron.

During our call, my cousin sat by a large window, watching smoke from fires less than 10 miles from their village. Their power company had shut off all electricity five days earlier. A generator kept their refrigerator running. He was walking to a nearby stream several times a day for water.

During our conversation, he never once used the word “apocalypse.” I admired his “cool” and wondered if I, in his place, could manage this level of calm.

Totally helpless about what the next 24 or 48 hours would bring, David and Mary had already been alerted to prepare to evacuate…much like those living in the path of a hurricane, flood waters or a tornado.

I’ve interviewed survivors of natural disasters and first responders to manmade disasters -- like plane crashes and explosions. Not once have I heard the word “apocalypse.”

By comparison, how can attending events virtually rather than in-person, wearing masks, socially distancing and all the other inconveniences of COVID-19 be as difficult? Apocalyptic?

As I pray for the victims of the West Coast fires and the first responders as well as the National Guard and others called to help, I’ll just be thankful we’re not facing a true apocalypse here in Dripping and give more thanks our numbers of new COVID cases – for the present – are low.