Many, many of us in the vaccinated world worry about unvaccinated friends and relatives, and pour ridicule on the unvaccinated we don’t know. “Serves them right,” we say—or think. “How can they not get it,” we say.
Last week at the rodeo, I watched from the Rotary food booth as crowds of people waited to get in to the gate, stood in line to get our burgers, and marched away from the last event in a welcome drizzle of rain. There were no masks, although I thought that people were inclined not to bunch up, to wait their turns in orderly single lines. Some awareness there, I thought. And most of my friends who did go are quite surely vaccinated.
As the crowd marched out in the rain, many went on to the Thunder Room for more beer, loud music, and the chance to dance. That, I remember thinking, is surely a spreader event. Maybe a super-spreader.
I and many friends—I know because we talk about it—look at the daily stats out of the Oregon Health Authority. We watched Wallowa County get a small surge—ten Sunday to beat our one-day record, and enough in a week to put us in red on the national "infection percentage" map from the New York Times.
There are enough local infection stories to allow us of the vaccinated to think and sometimes say “I told you so,” but the upsurge that must be associated with Chief Joseph Days Rodeo does not make super-spreader category, does not allow us the self-righteous feeling of I told you so.
And yesterday, when Wallowa County showed only one new case, I caught myself a bit sad, because “I told you so’ had been beat back. I jumped to “they came from everywhere and took it home with them.”
What uncharitable thoughts. “I told you so” didn’t make you better when your mom used it, and didn’t make your friends more careful when you used it.
It’s no solution for the Pandemic.
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