The eyes of a tired nation

The New York Times story started with these words: “As the eyes of a tired nation remained transfixed on the results of the presidential election, the United States set a daily record for new cases for the third straight day …” As a career journalist and sometimes journalism professor, I continue to marvel at the outstanding reporting and writing of this newspaper, which some call “failing” but others rely upon for information. Oh sure, their editorial page skews as left as Clayton Kershaw and Andy Pettitte and the great Whitey Ford, no doubt about that. But for basic information and solid writing in the other sections, it’s as good as it gets.

But this is not another tired post about journalism, and it’s certainly not going to morph into a political post – we’ve got enough of THAT already. This a post about the “eyes of a tired nation” and to a narrower perspective, “the eyes of a tired campus.” Man, oh man, this election is so indicative of 2020, isn’t it? High anxiety, uncertainty over when it will end, lack of a roadmap, etc. Meanwhile, in case no one's been paying attention? The Covid-19 pandemic is raging as strong as it has since it started, setting grim records every damn day. The novelty has worn off but the harsh reality marches on. The late fall weather here is currently beautiful, but the cold and the dark are coming – literally and figuratively. Are we ready? Doesn’t matter … we kinda have to be, don’t we?

Here at Marist, I believe we have handled the pandemic crisis pretty well. Maybe we’ve skewed toward overreacting at times, and that has led to frustration in many areas – athletics especially. But now, sad to report, the virus has taken a pretty solid grip on our campus. We’re always looking for correlation and causation – who can we blame? Off-campus parties, fraternities, laziness toward mask wearing, not keeping enough distance, etc. Not this time. This time, it’s simply a nasty virus doing its dastardly job in the petri-dish setting of a college campus. We can’t point the finger at one group, one team, one dorm, one off-campus house. The fact that we have made it this far – early November – until an outbreak (yeah, everyone’s afraid to use that word, but I will here) occurred is pretty remarkable. But that is of little solace now as we are paused once again, with waves of uncertainty remaining over the final 2.5 weeks of the in-person fall 2020 semester, not to mention the early months of 2021. During the spring and summer, the logical brain said trying to do in-person college academics and athletics during a pandemic was foolhardy at best. At all times, the emotional brain said we HAD to try, and I’m glad we did. Now where do we go? Same old shit – space out with physical distancing, wear a damn mask, wash your hands. As a dumbass track coach with the sole skill of being a fast typist, I’d like to add a few more helpful, non-scientific tips:

--Get outside, even when the weather sucks. Fresh air is a great salve in these times.

--Stay connected, and not just through social media. Send a text, make a phone call, shoot an email, schedule a Zoom call. Especially to someone from whom you haven’t heard in a while.

--Remind yourself and others about things you can be grateful for, difficult to do now but vital nonetheless.

--Listen. There’s a lot of noise out there. Sift through it and hear the messages that matter.

Like this: A text from an old friend, a dude who checks this blog every day and who reached out to me out of the blue and urged me to write more, to post more, to help him through these crazy times. Duuude: I'm no Tony Robbins, I'm just the dumbass over here in the flannel shirt! But anyway? This post is for you. I’ll try to do more, based on your urging. And in following my own advice, I’ll end with this: I’m grateful for your friendship and loyalty through the years, and I forever remember our long-ago hard runs from campus, always pushing up that little hill on Delafield Street, you always leaving me in the dust when we returned to campus. Long may we run, Murph. Thank you.