One summer in my pre-teen years, my grandparents stayed with us.  While I washing my morning breakfast dishes, the roll of paper towels fell off the cheap plastic rack that hung precariously on the cabinet next to the sink.  The quicker-picker-uppers bounced into the sink which was filled with soapy water.  This awkward tween clumsily destroyed a nearly new roll of paper towels.  My grandmother came to the rescue, and after a brief verbal lashing, I was released into the wild of a beautiful summer day.   

After a day of mischief riding my bicycle with my best friends, Bunky and Casey, I returned home in the late afternoon (remember when kids disappeared for hours at a time with absolutely no adult contact).  As I dropped my bike on the back lawn, I saw to my surprise—individual sheets of paper towels hanging on the clothes line! 

My grandparents were products of the Great Depression.  They wasted nothing.  They saved.  They didn’t buy things on credit.  They clipped coupons and went for the best bargains at three different grocery stores.   Eating at restaurants was a rare treat. They raised their children to eat everything on their plates.  They were greatly affected by the Depression and it left an indelible mark on their lives.  

Would they know growing up and trying to make it through a desperate time that it would have a collective impact?  I think there is a great amount of uncertainty about where we are now and how a time of prolonged isolation will affect us all.   What will it look like on the other side? 

People speak about how the United States of America changed after 9/11.   For a couple Sundays after the attack people went to church in record numbers- but that very quickly faded, and the attendance curve flattened.   Newscasters actually signed off with “God bless you, and God bless America” but that too disappeared.  The sense of unity that people experienced could now mostly only be felt during the singing of songs to inspire national pride during sporting events.  

Many people are coming together in practicing social distancing.  People are calling loved ones and checking in.  People are figuring out how to work from home, and attend teleconference meetings.  Even churches, not exactly known for being early adapters, are figuring it out on the fly. 

Like all of you, I look forward to a time when we can all come together again.   Will we be nicer to each other?  Will we share the last package of toilet paper with our neighbor who has none?  Will we attack other global issues with the same sense of universal unity recognizing the increasing interconnectedness of the world?  Will this spawn a generation of preppers? 

It is my sincerest hope that because of this time that we all share—this moment in history which will find its way to it into the history books that are yet to be written—it will affect us in incredibly positive ways.   And I pray that a feeling of unity will last more than a couple of weeks, and that rather than sharpen our nationalistic pride- it will help us all develop a deeper sense of connection to all who are suffering in our world.  Perhaps the newscasters will say, “God bless you, and God bless the world.”  

As for the paper goods—if a roll of toilet paper should happen to fall off its spring coil apparatus and find itself in the toilet bowl…sorry, Gram and Gramp—I don’t think I’m ready to hang individual sheets on the clothesline.