The following column is the opinion and analysis of the writer.
Both of my adult sons called this week to check up on my husband and me. They are rightly concerned — we are in the “at risk” over-60 category for the coronavirus. Do we have at least a two-week supply of food and medicines if we need to hunker down at home? We do, we assured. We stocked up wisely but did not hit the panic button by overbuying. At the same time, not being foolhardy, I did check my Humana Pharmacy app to see how soon I could reorder my heart meds. I’ve added a reminder on my calendar.
What concerns me more than medications, peanut butter and toilet paper, is the longer term effect of the coronavirus threat on our economy. While we aren’t experiencing the school closures that are affecting my grandchildren in California yet, we are being affected by the cancellation of large events such as the Tucson Festival of Books. This event, one of the largest of its kind in the country, normally brings in numerous authors, editors, publishers and thousands of visitors to Tucson.
Past reports by Eller College of Business and Management estimate that the festival contributes $3 million to $4 million to the local economy. While that number is large and may seem abstract, what it really means is that people who own and work for hotels, restaurants, transportation and vendors will face income losses. In addition to employment stress, many face the stress of stock market volatility. People we know and love are facing hardships.
The festival cancellation is hitting home for me and other board members of Literacy Connects. As a few of us sat around a table brainstorming ways to deal with the expected lost income from TFOB, a key funder of our literacy programs, we came to realize several things. First, we applaud the leadership of the festival for making a tough but wise decision to cancel. After all, presenters and attendees travel from all over to participate.
We also feel compassion for all nonprofit organizations who are in the same boat. Our organizations rely on donations from events and conferences to fund our budgets, on foundations whose assets are invested in the stock market, and individual donors who have their own families and needs to consider first. Further, we rely on volunteers to provide one-on-one services like helping children in the schools learn to read, but some of those volunteers, in my same “at risk” category, are choosing social isolation.
Lives in our community are being disrupted by a tiny virus. Yes, it is up to each of us to follow hygiene protocols of hand-washing and isolation if we are sick. Yes, it is up to each of us to reasonably prepare for some weeks of isolation. But bigger than that, it is our challenge as individuals, neighborhoods and a community to calmly, and without panic, pull together and support one another however we can.
I used to take care of my sons. I can see that it is now dawning on them to reach out to me, to take care of me. My San Francisco-based son closed his phone call with, “Mom, you can always jump in the car and drive here. We can take you in.” While I’m hoping that won’t be needed, it is comforting to have a place to go. Now, how can I extend similar support and assurance to my friends, my neighbors and my community?
