I imagine I am not alone in checking the Oregon Health Authority’s daily “Coronavirus Update.” We in Wallowa County have trundled along through this saga with a string of zeros and the occasional “1” in the list of counties and recording of new cases. Once, or twice, we might have had a “2.”
This week it was “6,” and a small pulse scampered up my back: Count the days back to Labor Day; what about that wedding at the foot of the lake—and the pickups with “Just Hitched” and “Just Married” smeared on the rear window in yellow poster paint; and the hordes of people on Main Street in Joseph over last two weekends; Rick Bombaci’s comments on the high numbers in the Lakes Basin, and the full parking lots at trailheads?
We’ve been waiting—and watching, and wondering when Covid-19’s march across Oregon would get to us. We saw the church affair in Union County explode things in Union County for a few days, and watched as numbers in Umatilla County climbed and climbed—the WalMart Distribution Center; meat and vegetable packing plants…
And then the smoke. No fires here, but smoke moved the few hundred miles from Ashland, Medford, Mollala, and Oregon City to rest here, against the mountains. If someone could put red die on Covid-19, we’d know when to put on our masks, go inside, or head for the high lakes.
But on reflection, what is disturbing is the uncertainty. And if there is one thing that runs the country, urban to rural, east to west, Blue to Red, it is this uncertainty. Count the reasons: will Covid get here? Will the smoke go away? Will we get our own fire? Will the Post Office deliver the mail—and the ballots? Will one group or another vote—or accept the results?
It’s draining, and today’s slightly yellow and sweet smelling smoke—just as we see the first clouds and a hint of sky blue in days—makes me wonder what’s in the smoke? Today’s fires are not forest fires, but car, truck, house, carpet, vinyl, metal fires. Everything burns if it gets hot enough.
The things we do not know.
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