Monday Was My…

Back in mid-June I did a post entitled, And What To My Wondering Eyes Did Appear

That’s a line from the poem ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.

Why was I quoting a Christmas poem in June?

Because I was watching the PBS NewsHour and saw this:

Something I hadn’t seen in many, many months:

NewsHour host Judy Woodruff had been joined by guests in the studio.

Her two guests were sitting across the desk, no masks, doing their interview face-to-face.

No talking from their home offices or living rooms on sometimes-less-than-reliable equipment.

These two guests were live and in-person!

In my post I said,

I was transfixed.

It was, I realized, a real, true sign that we are on the road to recovery.

It looked so normal.

Happy days were here again!

Fast forward six months, to Monday, December 20.

‘Twas a few nights before Christmas.

On that evening’s PBS NewsHour came this:

“…COVID and the Omicron variant…to join us remotely.”

No more guests in the studio.

No more face-to-face.

I’d heard, read and seen endless stories like this:

But this…

What I was seeing on the NewsHour was my crash and burn moment.

We’ve taken a monstrous step back.

Back to the bad old days.

And the predictions are worse than bad – they’re dire:

And yet millions of people are acting as if “Omicron” is just a word, and “Delta” is just a memory:

On December 18, 2021 on CBS News’ Face the Nation, Francis Collins, director of the National Institutes of Health, said,

“People are going, ‘I’m so sick of hearing this,’ and I am, too.  But the virus is not sick of us, and it is still out there looking for us…”

Here’s why it is this way:

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