A friend of mine has always celebrated the number 7 to a curious and exaggerated level that sometimes makes me roll my eyes. I always suspected and pretty much knew it’s derivation has much to do with his date of birth being 7/7/47. I can understand that and happily celebrate this fact with him. Google the significance of the number 7 and repeatedly you will learn of the Biblical significance of 6 days of creation and the 7th day of rest equaling perfection and / or completeness. In Judaism I learned there are seven heavens. Mystically the number 7 is associated with intuition and inner wisdom. Again, this is according to the Google! As I wondered what I might write about this morning my thoughts kept spinning back to what the number 7 is currently representing. Frequently in the news of late the number 7 has taken on a new and unlucky significance.
The Washington Post published on April 4th: “The Trump administration received its first formal notification of the outbreak of the coronavirus in China on Jan. 3. Within days, U.S. spy agencies were signaling the seriousness of the threat to Trump by including a warning about the coronavirus — the first of many — in the President’s Daily Brief. And yet, it took 70 days from that initial notification for Trump to treat the coronavirus not as a distant threat or harmless flu strain well under control, but as a lethal force that had outflanked America’s defenses and was poised to kill tens of thousands of citizens. That more-than-two-month stretch now stands as critical time that was squandered.”
Trump, Trump the President of the United States was advised 70 days in advance about the coronavirus. 70 days in advance. 70 DAYS in advance. Let’s take a moment and look at that from a different perspective and think about those very critical and life changing 70 days. What they could have prevented? What they now represent? Yesterday over 700 people died in the state of New York alone. The NY Times reported on April 7, 2020: Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo said on Tuesday that 731 people had died of the virus since Monday, the state’s highest one-day total yet by more than 100. As Governor Cuomo so heart wrenchingly stated and a stark reminder: “Behind every one of those numbers is an individual, is a family, is a mother, is a father, is a sister, is a brother,” Mr. Cuomo said at his daily briefing in Albany. “So, a lot of pain again today for many New Yorkers.”
The math that swirls in my creative brain calculates roughly over 10 people died unnecessarily each of those 70 days in just a single state. Each and every innocent life that had family, plans, aspirations are now gone. They are gone. They are forever gone. Had Trump addressed the pandemic when he should have and could have those lives and so many others would still be with us today. Trump once again has blood on his hands. I know virtually nothing about the game of Craps nor the importance of the number 7 but I do know we are “crapping out” right now. Whether we get the virus or not feels much more like a frightening crap shoot than anything else. Life changing and life threatening each moment of each day.
I remember as a young girl watching the evening news and the scrolling daily Vietnam death count. The Washington Post published a startling statistic: “By the time Donald Trump proclaimed himself a wartime president — and the coronavirus the enemy — the United States was already on course to see more of its people die than in the wars of Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq combined.” This perspective is critical in understanding the dire magnitude of this pandemic. The math is extraordinary and overwhelming for my heart and my brain. I truly struggle to understand. Why did Trump not act?
Each person has a story to tell and plays an important role in our society and in our world. Every life is precious … every single life. So many vulnerable populations dying daily. I am of a certain age and tell a certain story, but it is not about me but instead about my children and my unborn grandchild. This administration and this President (?) has no right to jeopardize their future or any American’s future. First and foremost, and until my last breath I will think of myself as a mother first and I am worried, and I am angry. My favorite number is 3 and I hope it doesn’t let me down on Tuesday, November 3, 2020.
Vote…we will never survive 4 more years!
