It was quite the twenty-four hours, it might’ve even made a decent movie montage; from the ground zero of a Chicago Irish bar on St. Patrick’s weekend to the quietude of Roscommon’s countryside, via O’Hare and Dublin airports. People come home all the time, but mine was a rushed exit; flying a week earlier than planned for fear of getting stuck in America and the thousand catastrophes I’d conjured up to accompany such a prospect. I got home. I was relieved. I am relieved. There’s a feeling of security, of safety here – partly because it’s familiar, but mostly because there’s no better spot in the world to socially distance than the west of Ireland where there’s an acre for each of us, if it comes to it. On a macro-level, that security also owes itself to being able to trust our leaders and experts, something that’s not an option for millions of Americans – and many UK citizens too. Strange times we’re living in indeed, stay safe and well out there. Come visit when all this is over.
Jesus but a fortnight ago seems like a different epoch. There I was, rambling through Seattle and Portland and San Francisco, reading up on the progress of the Coronavirus, keeping abreast of the lock-down in China, noting that it had reached northern California but California’s bigger than the UK and I figured I’d be shockin’ unlucky to pick it up and neither government or news media seemed unduly concerned. Fast-forward a week and I was scared shitless, and had to quit reading newspapers and Twitter. What if I contracted it and couldn’t fly home? I’d given up my apartment, what if I had to self-isolate? I had money but decent sums of money are worth very little inside the door of a US hospital. What if I was stuck in the country beyond the dates of my visa? I wasn’t long ringing Aer Lingus to bring forward the flight, leaving myself a mere 48 hours between getting back into Chicago and leaving for a good, including a night or two in a busy Irish bar. Perhaps it was for the best – long-drawn-out goodbyes turn tiresome quickly – but there were people I’d wanted to thank, to hang out with to, to lecture them on how great I thought they were (I am an intense friend). That wasn’t on the cards though and instead it was a rushed taxi to O’Hare, bidding mental farewells to the unimportant buildings, shops and bridges that were the landmarks of my every day in Chicago. I was sad to leave but I’d been sick to my stomach worrying about getting the virus, and even in the taxi I could feel a wave of relief come over me.
No Coronavirus in west Roscommon eh Doireann? There is, of course. The country is not on lockdown, but it is effectively shut down. I live in a very rural area, and the shut down affects us, of course – but not enormously. Grandparents have to keep their distance from grandchildren, there’s much less visiting, we’re not leaning into each other’s cars to speak to each other and there are concerns about selling cattle, but otherwise the pace of life isn’t much different than usual. A lot of people are retired here and as you can see from the photos, it’s not difficult to socially distance from each other. I live a mile from the nearest shop and there are houses around me, but I’m looking at hundreds of acres in front of me without a house or barn, just forestry and fields as far as the eye can see. Until a fortnight ago, social isolation was rural Ireland’s primary problem, now it’s a selling point. In an area where the soundtrack to a good walk is birdsong, a tractor and contrary cow in the distance and the odd passing car, it’s easy forget that a crisis is happening. It feels like we’re at a remove from it all, but COVID-19 can and likely will come here so we’ve to remain vigilant. The peace is grand, but it’s best enjoyed without an outbreak of Coronavirus.
Another reason there’s peace here in this tiny corner of Roscommon is the reliable and trustworthy nature of the information we receive, and the knowledge that those dispensing are acting in the interests of the nation and not their own political or career advancement. That’s not the case in the US. Despite the countless compilations of Trump’s lying or mistruths about the virus since mid-January, and his disregard for people’s lives in favour of economic gain, a majority of Americans think he’s doing a great job – all be it only 51%. Though I have never had much time for Leo Varadkar, in this time of crisis I largely believe and trust what he says – whether the news is good or bad. RTÉ News is factual, there are no pundits out to make a name for themselves, their reporters don’t sensationalise, and experts are interviewed – not spoofers. Americans have no such certainty. They are fed the narrative aimed at them. MSNBC will tell you Trump is worse than Mussolini, Fox will tell you he’s the greatest man alive, Facebook’s algorithm will tell you what it thinks you want to hear and Trump will say what pleases the base. Imagine not knowing whether to think COVID-19 is a hoax or a pandemic, whether it’s an exaggeration or a powder keg about to blow. State governors and elected representatives throughout communities in the US are doing Trojan work, but their efforts are often undermined by Trump saying one thing and the Centre for Disease Control having to issue statements correcting his misinformation. No doubt, normal services will resume and we’ll (I’ll) be soon back to giving out about Leo, but at least for now– unlike the clown to the left of us and the joker to right – we are lucky that his words and intentions can be trusted.
It’s Friday and I’m watching the news, listening to the Department of Foreign Affairs’ announcement that Irish people on short-term visas in the US should come home asap so they’re not left without healthcare. A wave of nausea came over me. I won’t know for a while if I miss America, or if it’s the affection of the returning wanderer that has me so content here. I do know I’m a lucky woman to be here, and if anyone reading this needs help or support, or who simply wants to talk silly for an hour, I am your woman. I’ve even got just the bottle of wine hidden under my bed for the job…
Stay safe. Stay well.
[1] https://www.politico.com/news/2020/03/27/poll-majority-approve-trump-coronavirus-response-151393
doireann.ie 
As ever D your artical is a great read stay safe x
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