My boy still believes a stuffed toy jet sets all over the house at night. I think it’s time to tell him the truth (he’s 10), but my husband says this year has been crappy enough without shattering his belief in all things magical and glittery that hail from the North Pole. (The Boy loves Charlie Daniels and we had tickets to see him early next year. He doesn’t know Charlie died, either. I was thinking of telling him that Charlie Daniels WAS Santa and kill two birds with one stone.)
But I digress.
A couple of years ago, my 14-year-old daughter volunteered to take over the elf responsibilities. I was thrilled. When I was in charge of the elf, I occasionally moved it from one end of the mantle to the other, but my daughter is really creative with Noel’s hijinks.
Exhausted from homework and basketball games the last couple of nights, she passed out before she could move Noel. She had to have an excuse as to why Noel stayed in the same spot for a few days. I read the note she left for her brother this morning and I first thought it was funny. And clever. Then I thought it was incredibly sad.
It reads, “The reason I didn’t move last night was because I received news that one of the elves had Covid. For the safety of the North Pole, I had to quarantine in that spot. I can now move and write notes again. Sorry to cause any worry. I will be in this jar today for extra safety and I will also wear a mask. Love, Noel.”
What kind of dystopian novel are we living in?
It’s really a terrifying sentiment, isn’t it? Quarantine? Masks? Santa’s helper contracted a deadly disease? The North Pole is in jeopardy? What in the hell is happening?
I’ve told you my opinion on Covid-19 before. I know it’s a real disease. As I type this, one of my friends is in the bed after a positive result yesterday. I just talked to her this morning. She said she feels awful. She just wants to sleep for the next three days. She can’t smell a thing. Yes, it’s totally weird and totally scary. I sure don’t want to catch it. I wear my mask when asked. I keep my distance. I would rather streak naked through Wal-Mart than dare cough in Wal-Mart and be looked at like I’m a leper. I scrub my hands raw until the skin flakes off—although I’ve done that my entire life.
About 10 years ago, at age 29, my husband and I both had the flu on Christmas Eve. We were sick as dogs. I thought I might die. I honestly thought I might die. It was my first time to have the flu, and I had pleurisy, too. I stayed on the couch for 3 days simultaneously freezing and sweating and hacking up a lung and I contemplated leaving notes for my toddlers telling them how much I love them in case I didn’t pull through. I don’t say that nonchalantly—I was seriously sick.
And as dangerous as the flu can be, to children and the elderly and every one in between, our government has never mandated masks or shut down businesses or forced us to communicate via Zoom during flu season. We’ve never been told holiday gatherings could be deadly or church is equivalent to the frontlines of war. We’ve never been forced to keep our children out of school or seen commercials that tell us we’re safer at home. A masked elf has never left a note about quarantining because he/she came in contact with another elf who had the flu.
During the most horrible flu seasons, we’ve just been trusted to do the responsible thing without mandates or fines or cancellations. Sick? Stay at home. Otherwise, live life as normal.
Back to our elf quarantined in a Mason jar with a strip of pre-wrap on her face—my son’s first reaction to the note from the elf was, “Is the other elf okay? Did it die?”
No, it didn’t die. Because the elf was relatively young (about 127 years old, which is young for an elf) and had no pre-existing conditions. The elf recovered wonderfully– like 98 percent of the other healthy elves do.
And yet, my son was worried about an imaginary elf. My daughter’s excuse for the thing not moving was a virus, quarantine and a mask. Because this world, their government, has taught them to be petrified.
But the government knows what’s best for us, thank God. They tell us repeatedly to stay home and not to hug others. They tell us to put our contaminated elves in jars.
Thank you, government, for protecting us from what you tell us to be afraid of.
I don’t say that nonchalantly, either.
I say that sarcastically.
