Lockdown - day 4

Hard to believe it's only been 4 days, although technically it's been longer -- I started working from home the day after WOMAD, because I was certain I'd caught something and was going to pass it on to my co-workers.

Hard to believe that was only two weeks ago -- we were there with 17,000 other people, packed in like sardines, when the government announced it was starting to take Covid-19 seriously. There were only 6 confirmed cases at the time, but we knew from other countries that it was going to explode. That Saturday they started restricting international travel, but of course it was already in New Zealand. The day after WOMAD, they banned gatherings of more than 500.

The week before WOMAD the government kept telling us we just needed to wash our hands more. At WOMAD, I lost count of the number of people who left the toilets without washing their hands. They walked right by the sanitation station without a second thought. It was at that point I realised we were all going to die.

So I set up my desk in the garage and told work I'd be working from home for the foreseeable future. A few days later, the company announced everyone should be working from home where possible. The schools were still operating -- the government was still trying to manage a veneer of normalcy, and said they'd only close a school if it had a confirmed case, and then they'd only shut the school for a few days to disinfect it -- but our kids' schools saw the writing on the wall and held a "learning at home" day to see how it work. The "school" part worked fine, but all the kids met up afterwards so the "social distancing" was a complete failure.

Of course we wanted to tell our kids, "Don't go, that's crazy, haven't you been watching the news?" but we also didn't want to be alarmist, so we let them go. Our homestay student's father - the GP from Seattle who was on the frontline dealing with this - gave her strict instructions to stay home and isolate herself. She went and spent the afternoon with her boyfriend. (She forgot to turn off "Find my friends" so her parents could see where she was, so that didn't end well...)

Meanwhile, my wife wasn't feeling well at all. She'd developed terrible body aches about two weeks earlier, and her GP had referred her for a CT scan. They'd scheduled it for 30 March. Some times she was fine, but other times - especially at night - she was in agony. We kept waiting for the hospital to call to cancel the CT scan, but we didn't hear from them. On Friday we thought, fantastic, she's going to get the scan and we can figure out what was wrong and start treatment. Friday afternoon they called to cancel.

(Technically, they didn't cancel it; they referred her to a private radiologist who was taking over all "elective" scans. We have no idea how long it will be before they schedule something.)

Yesterday we did two things: Our synagogue had an online service - my wife and eldest daughter were the chazzans (cantors) and I wrote the drasha (sermon) - and we went to Moore Wilsons. M-W is a Wellington institution, the equivalent of Smart & Final (named after Jim Smart and Hildane Final) in Los Angeles, except much, much nicer. They have a fresh food store and a "warehouse-style" store that caters to restaurants but is open to the public; about twice a year we blow a paycheck on 3kg bags of nuts, dried fruits, dried beans, chocolate, tortillas, etc. This time we were after one thing: Bragg's Nutritional Yeast. There has been in short supply because, apparently, the last batch shipped to New Zealand had incorrect nutritional labelling, and it all had to be sent back. Since my wife had gone vegan this had become her seasoning of choice, and M-W was the only place that had it last time. (They didn't have it this time, but we still spent $200 somehow.)

The real reason I mention it is because since the lockdown started, the government has said you should stay local and only shop for essentials, and driving into town for nutritional yeast did not seem to fit that definition. They had given police power to stop vehicles and issue fines, so I was a bit nervous, but I assured myself it was highly unlikely there'd be any police on the roads. We weren't even out of Karori when I saw a police car behind me. And we were the only car on the road.

Thinking quickly, I realised my company had been designated an "essential business" and although I was not an "essential employee" I figured I could bluff my way through it. To bolster my story, I turned off the route to M-W and headed toward work. The police car continued on his way, oblivious to us. I made a U-turn and went to M-W. Although there was a huge queue for fresh food, the warehouse section was virtually empty, since there were no restaurants to service. We filled our cart and headed home without further incident.

We now have more than enough food to last us the month, except the only thing the kids are eating is cornflakes because they can't be bothered to cook anything. They have more time than ever before and yet won't take two minutes to make a sandwich, or boil some noodles, or eat some fruit. I don't understand this, but I am looking forward to when we run out of cornflakes to see how they handle it. That should be tomorrow...

Drasha

Adapted from "Encountering God in the Sacred Silence" by Rabbi Ben Spratt[1]

This Shabbat we begin the Book of Leviticus. The book opens with the word Vayikra, which is translated as "And [God] called." For the philosopher Franz Rosenzweig, this single word summarizes the substance of all that was revealed to the Israelites on Sinai – God called to humanity. The Torah and all the subsequent writings are simply our response.[2]

There is also an orthographic oddity in this single word, Vayikra. Written in the Torah, the final letter, aleph, is half the size of the rest of the word. Last year I spoke about the Ten Commandments and how some thinkers imagined the only thing God uttered was the first letter of the Ten Commandments – the letter aleph, the letter of silence.[3]

Out of that silence, God calls out to us. Our early Sages imagined that since the dawn of time God has been calling out to every person at every moment: Abraham was simply the first person to be silent enough to notice. Moses was the first person to see the burning bush. Elijah was the first to hear the "still, small voice" on the mountaintop.[4]

Our tradition believes the universe was created with words and encourages us to fill our homes and sanctuaries with words and song. We fill our days with noise and use "white noise" to sleep. Take away our sensory distractions and we become uncomfortable. In silence we are forced to hear the things we so often drown out: The soul, the solitude, the questions of person, place and purpose.

In 1654, French philosopher Blaise Pascal wrote, "All of humanity's problems stem from a person's inability to sit quietly in a room alone."[5]

Vayikra, God calls out to us, in each moment of each day. Let us be still and silent enough to hear.

Shabbat shalom.

---

[1] https://reformjudaism.org/learning/torah-study/vayikra/encountering-god-sacred-silence

[2] The Letters of Martin Buber, 1925

[3] Radical Judaism: Rethinking God and Tradition

[4] I Kings 19:12

[5] Pensees, 139

Day 3: Homestay

I'm referring to our international homestay student, from Seattle. She's our third homestay student in the four years we've been in this house. She is 18 and was a senior at high school, but her mother decided to send her abroad for the last 6 months of school. Within the first week of being here, she reminded me of everything that's wrong with America.

Dont get me wrong, she's perfectly lovely, but she walks around all day with earpods and can't put her phone down for a second, not even at the dinner tabke. (We've learned to text her when dinner is ready, because she doesn't hear us call.) Her room is a pigsty, and even though we don't allow food in the bedrooms, we keep finding empty chip bags and candy wrappers. Her parents sent her with $500 spending money for the six months and she went through that in less than two months, mostly on coffee and bubble tea.

But what's really annoying is her parents. You can almost hear the helicopter blades. She's 18, and presumably they sent her to New Zealand to learn independence, but they still treat her like she's 12. They send us emails suggesting we take away her phone at night! We smile and nod and ignore them.

When Covid-19 started making the news, I didn't realise Seattle was one of the first cities hit, and while I knew her father was a doctor, I didn't realise he was responsible for part of the response. (We even saw him interviewed on the Seattle news the other day.) When Seattle shut down their schools two weeks ago, we commented about how lucky she was to be here and still attending to school. 

A few days later, the AFS - which enables American students to study all over the world - decided to recall everyone. It made sense as an organisation, but in cases like ours they were moving kids from low-risk areas to high-risk areas! That said, we knew New Zealand was headed in the same direction and it was only a matter of time before we'd be in the same situation, so we spoke with her parents last Friday and agreed she should go home. 

On Monday we heard from our homestay student that her parents had decided to leave her with us! She said they were going to call us, but they never did. It was bizarre. 

The next day, New Zealand announced the lockdown, schools were closed and we were in exactly the same situation as Seattle, only with an extra child. 

So now we have a 19-year-old who desperately doesn't want to live at home, an 18-year-old who is 12,000 miles from home (and couldn't get back if she wanted), a 17-year-old who is incredibly moody and a 15-year-old who wants nothing more than to go skateboarding, but (I kid you not) he broke his skateboard the day before the lockdown! (Amazingly, he ordered a new one online and they shipped it before the government clarified that couriers could only ship "essential supplies.") 

Day 2: How to run a lockdown

When the NZ government announced the lockdown, they used the term "essential services" a lot, and assumed everyone knew what they meant.

It turns out, a lot of business owners - especially those faced with the prospect of no income for a month - think they are providing essential services, and have no problem sending low-wage employees to work, undermining the whole purpose of the lockdown.

The Warehouse - New Zealand's equivalent of Kmart - announced to their stockholders they were an essential service and would stay open. The government had to announce they weren't, and they wouldn't. 

Butchers across New Zealand not only assumed they were essential, but they stocked up on meat in expectation of higher demand, before the government told them they weren't essential, and that meat is now going to waste. 

My favourite story is Celebration Box, a stupid company that will send an expensive box of cheap chocolate to someone. They've been in the news repeatedly over their appalling customer service, including delivering Valentine's day gifts up to a week late! It was discovered today they were still operating, albeit they'd replaced their "donut box" with a "fruit box." (It's $30 for 17 pieces of fruit.) 

(You can read more about them at 

http://www.stuff.co.nz/business/114322872/commerce-commission-finds-celebration-box-may-have-breached-the-fair-trading-act) 

Chemists (phamacies) and grocery stores are essential and we're fortunate to have both in the little mall across the street. My wife and I went in the side entrance to find both had queues, because they were only letting in a few people at a time, so she got in the queue for the chemist and I got in the queue for the grocery store. What I didn't realise until later was that the queue for the grocery store extended out the main door and around the block, but because they were trying to space everyone apart, what I thought was the end of queue was actually the middle. Oops. 

What was interesting was my response to the situation. Two days ago, the risk of catching Covid-19 was about the same, but we were all packed into the grocery store and everything felt normal. Today, with only about twenty people in the entire shop, it felt very scary. I was suddenly aware when people violated the two-metre "social distancing" rule. I assumed everything was contaminated, and didn't want to touch anything. I wished I'd grabbed a face mask from the civil defense box; even though I know they're not effective, I wanted one anyway. 

I was happy to get out of the shop and get home to my "bubble."

Fwd: Isolation, day 1

At 11:59pm on Wednesday, 25 March, 2020, New Zealand went to "alert level 4" requiring all non-essential businesses to close and everyone to stay home (apart from shopping for necessities or exercise). We aren't even allowed to drive (unless we're shopping for necessities).

Day 1: We ate the cat. We all agreed that we should have held out a little longer, but we all knew it was coming, and the cat was kind of annoying. The dog has been exemplary since then. He's even started doing the dishes.

Seriously, we're very lucky because we can both work from home. The kids were all laid off from their jobs, of course. The middle child was quite upset because she's saving all of her money for her gap year. The youngest was quite upset because he needs a new skateboard and he keeps destroying his shoes skateboarding - he goes through a pair every three months - and we're not buying him new ones. The eldest wasn't bothered because she's got a student loan payment of $238 each week, she's living at home for free, and she doesn't have to pay any school fees the first year.

The eldest was about to move into a flat with four other students the day they announced the lock down. She (wisely) decided not to spend a month in isolation with four strangers (and did not want to pay rent for a month while living elsewhere). She was not happy about spending a month here, but neither was her mother. 

Of course we know the lockdown will probably be longer, but we can't tell the kids that. The day before the lockdown even started -- but school was cancelled and they couldn't see their friends -- they were already telling us they were bored. (We told them anyone who says they are bored gets extra chores.)

School holidays have been moved up so they have two weeks off, then are supposed to start online learning. It's a brave new world here. I'm not clear what the university is doing and neither is my daughter - she spends the day baking and practising guitar. (Did I mention she's getting $238 for her student loan when she has zero expenses?) 

The eldest moved into my study and my desk got moved to the garage. This wasn't an issue at the time, but I didn't think I was going to be working from home for an extended period! I had to move the desk closer to the door in order to get WiFi, and if I close the garage door the WiFi is cut off completely. As a result, I can only work there when the weather is nice; the rest of the time I'm at the dining room table.

I'll save some more for day two. It's been a long time since I've written anything; we'll see if I can keep this up...