Life in the time of coronavirus: The lady in the woods who ran away

Ed note: The following was written by former Herald staffer Adam Smith.

Our family has been pretty good at social distancing, years before it was called for. We got a little better several weeks ago as we could see what was coming - or what we knew was already here, just no light had been shone in the right places to detect it.

China. South Korea. Iran. Italy. It's been obvious for a while - to anyone who has been watching. When you call the fire department because your curtains are in flames, the 911 operator doesn't say, "Well, call me when fire is shooting from the windows, because then we'll know it's a real emergency."

The same thing applies to highly infectious, novel viruses - they spread, quickly. It doesn't matter how little at first. Just like with fire. You don't need to be a doctor to know that - I'm certainly not one.

But, still, we're all human, and we want to believe that it will just be the "sniffles" or down to zero soon, or that it will only bother those people, way over there. They must just have bad medical care. Their doctors must not know how to handle pneumonia, like ours do. They must be dirty. We, in a word, have been in denial.

Denial has its place, but when it comes to out-of-control viral outbreaks, it offers little benefit.

It also quickly turns into panic.

Panic is what we saw Friday, while exercising our usual social distancing.

We were hiking around in a wooded park when we saw a familiar face – a woman who was an old neighbor.

As soon as we recognized each other, the idea of the six-foot rule came to my mind. How do you stand six-feet away from someone and not appear stand-offish?

Turns out, it didn't matter. She saw our family and was constantly backing away, as if she recognized our faces from a "Most Wanted" poster. At one point, she backed up frantically as we stepped closer, causing her to trip over a branch and fall to the ground.

Before I could come close to offer my hand, she jumped up and said she was in a hurry and ran off.

I get it. I don't want get this virus, either. And I especially don't want my family to get it. Because there has been so little testing in the U.S., it's just hard to know who has the disease and who doesn't. We're all afraid of everyone now, People are dying, and many who aren't are sick for a long, long time. It's not only better that you don't get it for you, it's better for everyone.

But we also don't want to see our friends as enemies, either. We also don't want to hoard everything so our neighbors starve and go without toilet paper – especially not after they stocked up on enormous amounts of canned and dried beans. (This goes both ways, remember? Did you know this stuff can cause abdominal trouble and spread by fecal matter – do you really want others to go without wiping, because you took the last 58 rolls? Do you really want those around you to have dirty hands, because you bought the last of the 30 bottles of hand sanitizer and soap?)

"Ah, and there I just did it again! I touched my face." The clerk at Trader Joe's looked devastated. I saw her scratching herself just a moment before she realized it, her hair dangling over her cheeks, her skin oily. She looked exhausted. It was no wonder, the store was nearly emptied. Rows of freezers were emptied. Shelves were emptied. No milk. No eggs. No frozen vegetables or fruits. No cooking oils. No canned soups, beans. Early, while at the Dollar Tree, we found no toilet paper or napkins. Same thing at Star Market, later.

So here we go, panic. Selfishness. Hoarding. Let's now try to come to our senses. And keep a healthy distance at the same time.