Friday, April 03, 2020

Please Follow Me Here to My New Site - Same Point of View, Same Writing

So, it's tough to start a new blog site. I have been trying to get away from here and from the whole Anonymous Is A Woman identity. Actually, very few people even remember it, except for a few diehards. Apparently, though, there are more diehards than I realized. My new site gets maybe one or two views a day.

This site gets about 80 views. Inexplicably, it has always gotten at least 50 a day even though it's been dormant since 2010, with a brief revival in 2014-2015.  I guess there are still people who come by to see what Anonymous Is A Woman has to say, even if she hasn't said it in five years. Apparently, hope springs eternal.

My dilemma is this: do I just give in to the inevitable and come back to this site and work to build it back up to what it was in its heyday? After all, 50 to 80 views when you haven't said anything in five  years isn't chump change.

Or do I plug away, trying to get people to go to my newer site, Karen Duncan. Or do I just cross post to both?

I am going to take the chance of giving you all a new link to my current site. It's still me and I still have something to say. And I am still the same AIAW I always was. Promise.

So please GO HERE

Tuesday, March 31, 2020

Shortages, Supply Chains, and Coronavirus

The governors of Virginia and Maryland and the mayor of the District have issued a stay at home order, punishable by a fine and even jail time. The order goes to June 10 in Virginia. It allows us to to buy groceries, visit doctors, take a walk or get exercise, as long as we are in groups of less than ten. The point is to keep us out of crowds and out of harm's way while the pandemic rages on.

 Most people support the action. Everybody is scared now as the rate of infection and the death rate climb. The reality is settling in and the complaints about loss of freedom and government overstepping, are diminishing. There are still some diehards, but the news is sobering. Nothing focuses the mind quite so well as danger.

Besides the outright and justifiable fear of the Covid-19 virus, there's a secondary underlying palpable anxiety about the shortages of essential goods. Consumers confront stark empty shelves in sold out grocery stores. We are being confronted with shortages of everyday items we normally take for granted.

Frozen vegetables, canned goods, meats, fresh produce, milk, bread, toilet paper, disinfectants and hand sanitizer. Even flour for baking cakes and bread. At first, some of those shortages were funny and quickly became the object of jokes. After all, who in the DC Metro area hasn't experienced the panic buying of bread, milk, and toilet paper at the mere mention of a snow flurry? One long ago weather person even joked on air, "Call me whimsical but I always have toilet paper and milk at home."

Of course, in the first couple of weeks, I expected the panic buying and even hoarding. Since I'm one of those "whimsical" people who had more than a week's supplies because I shop regularly, I wasn't too worried about running low. I'd be fine for a couple of weeks - maybe three. By then, everybody will have bought what they need, the panic will subside, and how much toilet paper and Lysol wipes can a family of two or three in a suburban townhouse hoard, anyway? Where would they store it? We don't have large farmhouses or even McMansions in our neighborhood. Eventually, I figured, my neighbors would run out of room and realize the sky is not falling, just like they always do.

This time is different.

The shortages go on and on. Finding everything you need in one shopping trip is impossible. At a time when people are desperate to limit their exposure to a dangerous virus, shopping trips are taking longer and are sometimes more frequent simply because of the necessity of making multiple trips to multiple stores to find supplies. 

Business is brisk in online shopping too. People who would never before have considered delivery of their groceries are eagerly trying Peapod, Safeway, Instacart, Shipt, and other delivery services. The results have been mixed at best. 

Newspaper pundits in the Sunday sections have started predicting the ways the coronavirus would change how America lives. One of those predictions has been that the use of telework would increase as employers discover their workers are just as productive from home and expensive office space is not necessary. Another prediction was that as more and more Americans went online for their shopping, they would like its convenience, which would lead to even fewer brick and mortar stores. I don't think that's going to happen.

In what could have been their big opportunity to capture a grateful market, let's just say that for most delivery services, this has not been their shining hour. It's been impossible to get delivery service. Like all resources, it's severely strained. Every time I've tried to place any order with Giant's Peapod or Safeway's service, I can't even find a delivery date. People have told me the earliest date they can get is two weeks out, and sometimes a month away. Sometimes, you come up completely empty handed with no available dates and a message to try back later.

Besides not having delivery dates available, they don't have the most needed goods in stock. Stores like Walmart, CVS, and Target are limiting supplies to one package per customer and only selling scarce goods in their stores. You just have to be lucky to get there when what you need is available and hope for the best.  Dan and I have not seen any brand of wipes in a store for three weeks and they are either out of stock or not being sold online. For now, they seem impossible to get. 

This brings me to a question. Why the extreme shortages of things whose availability we used to take for granted? 

I can certainly understand a severe shortage of ventilators in hospitals. Ventilators are expensive and are not used commonly. They are essentially emergency equipment for relatively rare crisis situations, not frequently used medical devices. Given their expense, most hospitals only have a few available at any given time. Nobody planned for a pandemic on this scale. Nobody expected to run out of them. Nobody could.

But shortages of surgical masks and other disposable protective gear? The last time I was in an ER those were plentiful, given to any patient suspected of having a flu. You could buy a box of surgical masks in a supermarket or drugstore without even thinking about it. And now even hospitals can't get them for medical staff. That's insane.

For most routine stuff, I can indeed understand a temporary shortage in the early days of panic buying and hoarding, before retailers realized demand had shot up and before suppliers started ramping up. But with modern technology to track sales and inventory, they should already be figuring out the sharp increase in demand? And after three weeks of the public buying more than they could possibly use in more than a week or two, why is it still so hard for stores to be restocked?

What I am asking here is whether there is something wrong at a more basic level with our supply chain?

How much of the shortages are caused by how little of our consumer goods are manufactured in the U.S.? How much of the delay in getting more supplies is caused by the fact that they have to be imported and we are competing on an international market for goods produced far away from us at a time when an international supply chain has been disrupted by crisis?

I'm not a conspiracy theorist and I don't think there is a deliberate plan to block our access to consumer goods we need. Indeed, the entire rest of the world is experiencing the same panic buying, hoarding behavior, severe shortages and supply chain disruptions as we are. I know this.

But I am wondering whether we are paying a steep price now for having outsourced and off shored so much of our manufacturing capacity? We are basically competing with other countries in crisis for the same still limited supplies on an international market with less control over ramping up production. If more of our consumer goods were made at home, we could solve a couple of problems caused by the pandemic. First, many of the out of work employees from the hospitality and retail industries currently closed down would be able to find jobs in manufacturing as those companies expanded to meet the rising, albeit temporary, demand. And with more goods flowing into our stores, the panic could ease. As it is now, every day of shortages simply produces more panic buying and more hoarding. I don't know when we will find our way out of that vicious cycle. But I'm pretty sure now that it won't be any time soon.

It seems fear of the virus itself and accompanying anxiety about shortages and deprivation are our new normal at least for several more months. 






Monday, March 30, 2020

Some Housekkeeping

I decided to restart blogging more because we are living through what is going to be a historic time, going through a life altering pandemic the likes of which has not been seen since the Pandemic of 1918. That is still the pandemic that gives epidemiologists and public health officials nightmares. It's the standard that all other epidemics and pandemics get compared to.

But with Covid-19, a new nightmare was born. Historians, doctors and researchers, and even novelists will look back on these times and these struggles of ordinary people to get a sense of what went on. In the past, historians and writers have used personal journals as source material for understanding the times and people of given eras. They have gleaned valuable information about how ordinary people coped, what they thought, what they did to get by, what they thought, and most importantly what they felt.

This period will be no different. Some people are keeping personal journals. Others have returned to online journals - weblogs, or for short, blogs. As a former blogger, I thought I was done with the long form blog. For politics, social media like Facebook and Twitter allow me to reach many more people than my blog ever did. And they are less time consuming. You can share an opinion in 50 or 150 words or less. You could just share a link to somebody else's opinions or factual articles. You could have a life beyond living in your basement churning out articles and posts.

But I'm homebound now, self quarantining, practicing social distancing, and obeying Virginia Governor Ralph Northam's just issued order to stay in. It's a great idea. I'm perfectly happy to hole up and protect myself as much as humanly possible.

So, I've resumed my blogging, not about politics, though that will probably creep in, but something more personal, reflective, and hopefully more creative.

Meanwhile I realized there was a problem with doing it here. I wrote my few posts on the blog I already had. But I want to separate myself from my old identity, Anonymous Is A Woman,

I had a lot of fun with it back in the mid 2000s, from 2005 to 2010. But too much time has passed under the bridge. I am writing this as Karen Duncan, not as AIAW. So, I set up a new site. I am directing anybody who stumbles onto this site to look over there. It's still on Blogger because that's the easiest site on which to produce content. I don't want to fiddle around with designing a website and coding, Let somebody who likes that stuff do it. I just want to write. Anyway, here's my new home on Blogger. Best of all, it's got my real name as part of the address.

I will be playing around with design a bit. So the look may change as I go on. But here's where I live now

https://karenfduncan.blogspot.com/


Wednesday, March 25, 2020

Early Spring


I am not really built for times that require bravery. I have struggled with fears, phobias, and high anxiety most of my life, no doubt some inherited from my mother and other family members. Indeed, I firmly believe lettuce kills.

Don’t believe me? Just google food borne illnesses, especially Romaine lettuce.

Times like these, where we have all been ordered to self-quarantine, lockdown, and shelter in place, could easily turn me into an agoraphobic. I fight it by taking long walks every day. We live in strange times when simply leaving one’s house feels like an act of bravery.
   
One of the things that has struck me is how beautiful all the blooming trees have been this spring. Even before this covid-19 virus took over our lives, waking consciousness, dreams, and nightmares, when it was just a blip on the radar with newspaper reports out of China, I was struck by how particularly lovely this time of year has been.

We had a mild winter that segued into an early spring. There are years when the tulip magnolias in Lafayette Park bloom for a couple of days and then a blast of icy air kills them off, leaving shriveled, brown, frostbitten blossoms. This year, though, they seemed indestructible and bloomed everywhere. Cherry trees blossomed along the Tidal Basin, seemingly lasting forever. No unexpected frosts, no violent wind storms to rip away their blossoms and leave the ground looking like it had been littered by delicate pink and white confetti. I can’t help thinking, this year these fragile blossoms have become a symbol of resilience.

Here in Virginia, they were every bit as resilient and stunning, making the daily commute into DC pleasurable, even as everybody's fears began to slowly mount. Then, of course, last week, we were ordered out of our office building and the lovely morning and evening rides home ceased.

I am blessed by how many flowering trees we have in Burke Center, forsythia, cherry blossom, pear trees, eventually dogwoods will bloom. So, I force myself outside. The other day, though, there were so many other people out on a warm sunny day. The usual groups of teenagers, the joggers, some with their dogs trotting along, and senior citizens like me out taking walks. All trying for some normalcy. But I confess, it was a little scary out there – a little too peopley – as we’d pass, some of us would eye each other warily, some stepping a bit farther away – just how far is the recommended six-foot distance anyway?

One woman passed me and she was wearing a mask. I admit it scared me. Was she just trying to protect herself? Was she already infected?  I had to pass her; there was no way back home if I didn’t. Or I could make a jackass out of myself by turning around and going back in the other direction. Just then, she stepped off the sidewalk onto a side path and motioned me to go. I gave her a thumbs up. Then I stopped and put my palms together and gave her a full bow of gratitude. She burst out laughing.

It made my day. It's true what psychologists say about the calming power of a fellow human being and a cherry tree. Even for somebody scared of lettuce.

Monday, March 23, 2020

Life in the Time of Coronavirus March 23, 2020


Mark this date down: March 16, 2020.

That’s the day everything changed. It’s the day the AFL-CIO gave Dan and me the word we were locked out of the building. We got notice Sunday night. We would be allowed in for a half hour on Monday to get whatever we needed to work remotely for an unknown period. That was the day the coronavirus sucker punched us in the gut.

All I had time to do was set up online banking so I could deposit incoming checks. We would continue to pay bills by writing out checks – still old school about some things. I didn’t have time to get QuickBooks online, which I had been toying with doing and unfortunately thought I had more time to actually do. We expected to be shut down, just not so swiftly.

After the shutdown Dan and I spent the rest of the week dealing with shopping in the time of Covid-19 and coping with the results of our neighbors’ panic buying, hoarding, and the empty shelves it caused at all the supermarkets. We managed to cobble together enough food and supplies by going from store to store, which kind of defeats the goal of sheltering in place and avoiding crowds. But we were careful to keep our distance, not dawdle in stores, and stay home as much as possible except for true essentials.

Toilet paper is high on my list of essentials. We weren’t out. But we were ready to buy our normal package, which I do when we are about half way through one package. I replace things before I run completely out, a good habit it turned out, because we spent the better part of a week and a half looking for TP and facing empty shelves. All paper goods and cleaning supplies were scarce.

Giant finally got a supply one morning, and one woman bought out the entire aisle, every brand and every package size. An entire large grocery cart loaded up with toilet paper. Most other stores were limiting customers to two packages. But Giant, as a policy, was refusing to do so. I had a go around with them on their Facebook page and posted about it on Next Door. I wasn’t too worried, though, because with Amazon Prime, I was confident I had a backup plan.

Wrong.

Every Amazon vendor I tried was sold out and didn’t know when they’d have it restocked. Finally, I found some available on Walmart’s site. They weren’t price gouging. It was a name brand, and they promised to deliver a twelve-pack in two days. I bought it at midnight on Thursday. Desperate times.

I had had enough of foraging from store to store to no avail. I wanted Dan and me safe at home. It arrived Saturday afternoon. With that, we pretty much had the essential supplies we needed. Unfortunately, though, it had set my mind in panic mode, and I haven’t gotten myself out of it yet.

I have read most of the online tales, the horror stories of young people in their 40s who got terrible cases. This is a really ugly virus at its worst. Early on the narrative got around that it affected older people far harder than young people, so a bunch of college kids cavorted on spring break on Florida beaches, New Orleans bars, and California trendy spots. Until governors began shutting them down.

Someday, scientists are going to have to figure out how this virus really works and why it hits some so much harder than others in unexpected ways. 

It turned out that some people in their 40s or younger got slammed, ending up on ventilators and even dying, while some seniors who supposedly were in the high risk groups turned out to be asymptomatic. The Washington Post carried a couple of stories about some of the first Covid-19 victims, seniors in their 60s who were on the Diamond Princess cruise ship. They were in dock, quarantined and then sent to hospitals when they tested positive. One man of 68 even wrote an article for the Washington Post Weekend Outlook section titled, “I Have Corona Virus and It’s Not That Bad.” He said he felt sick but had felt worse a few years ago with a bad case of bronchitis. One of his friends, a 65 year old woman, tested positive but never showed symptoms. She was confined to the same hospital, where she spent her quarantine doing Pilates and dancing to 80s rock music alone in her room. Meanwhile, her husband, who was a survivor of two transplants and was on immunosuppressant drugs, also tested positive yet showed no symptoms.

That’s not how it’s supposed to happen. They were the high risk population. So, why did a 44- year old marathoner in New York and a fit 40 year old elsewhere post on Twitter from hospital rooms, one with an oxygen mask, another dangerously ill and later moved to a ventilator (his mother updated his Twitter account when he became too ill to do it himself)?

I should add, some of the passengers from the Diamond Princess did not fare as well as those three lucky 60-something passengers I just mentioned did. A husband and wife in their 80s both died. So did five other more elderly passengers (in their 70s and 80s). But there are probably a lot of asymptomatic people of all ages able to spread this. And a lot of people of all ages who will get dangerously sick. And nobody really has a clue who will be hit hard and why.

Welcome to the end of the world as we know it. More tomorrow.

                                                    #######

(Here are some follow up stories to what I just posted.)