By RUTH GOLDSTEIN FOR THE BALTIMORE SUN |OCT 23, 2020
In a conventional war, if you know where the enemy is you know where to take a stand. Famous front lines have even gone down in history — Gettysburg, Normandy, the Battle of the Bulge. This war against the coronavirus is different though.
Early on New York’s Gov. Cuomo told us, “The front line battle Is going to be hospitals and the soldiers in this fight are our health care professionals.” To this day when I see doctors and nurses decontaminating at the end of a grueling shift like disaster workers at Chernobyl, I am stunned by their heroism under fire — I just hope Congress creates a special medal for first responders. On the other side of this line are the endless waves of patients, alone in the trenches, separated from their families at their most extreme hour, fighting for their lives without anyone who loves them to hold their hand.
This is the front line we can see, but there is another front line that is invisible. The line we draw at our own front door signifies a different kind of battle — the one we wage with ourselves. We are fighting this war in private, one household at a time, battened down in our bunkers armed with Lysol and microwave popcorn, jigsaw puzzles and Netflix. Every day we choose not to cross that threshold is another skirmish in this war against a microscopic adversary. Every time we resist the siren call of the wild — a play date, a mahjong game, a birthday party — is another chance to deprive the virus of ammunition.