Sign on front door: "Until further notice, this residence is closed to visitors. We're not sick, and we don't think you are. We're just not sure we trust you around our toilet paper."
(A joke making the rounds lately)
We're in the middle of what I hope will be remembered as a "scare." When such things concern financial behavior they might be called "panics."
And all the toilet paper is gone.
The toilet paper shelves at the grocery store in Penn Yan
This seems very strange at first glance, because what does a vaguely flu-like virus that only rarely causes diarrhea have to do with going to the bathroom?
It's logical, though, because we're being asked to potentially "self-quarantine"—isolate ourselves at home—if we get the illness known as COVID-19. Of course there's no way to know if we have the virus, because we can't get tested. On Friday, an ER nurse I know described the entire protocol for being tested at the local hospital where she works, and it's very involved. The bottom line is, where I live, unless you're really sick, you're not going to know whether you have the coronavirus or not. Basically, to know you have it, you'd have to be on a ventilator in the Emergency Room.
And while we're on that subject, special blessings for our health workers—like Erica, my friend the nurse. They're on the front lines and in harm's way, and deserve the same gratitude we grant those who serve in the military.
But back to the point. Prospectively—hypothetically—we're facing the prospect of voluntarily isolating ourselves at home for two weeks. So do you have two weeks' worth of supplies at home?
I don't. I shop for food almost every day. So it makes sense that you'd head to the grocery store and stock up on things you might need. Dog food, for example.
...And toilet paper. Be prepared!
Then, the behavior stimulates the behavior. Because if everyone's buying up toilet paper in a panic and you know it's getting scarce, well, you'd better get some yourself, because, you know, it's one of those household staples you normally need. So then more people buy some. But the stores are used to stocking only enough for ordinary everyday buying habits, and the sudden surge in demand makes the pipeline run dry.
So it's almost like you're forced to participate in this behavior even if you're not worried about getting the virus and have decided not to prep for self-quarantine. Even if you don't want to be another lemming.
I didn't have to face this. I have enough TP.
You never know about fires
So are we all being stupid? The B&H Superstore has closed down. The Sheriff of my county has declared a state of emergency and the bars and restaurants are closed. They're not playing NBA games. You know the litany.
What are they doing? Why is this happening?
Long ago I lived in Georgetown, DC, in a third-floor walk-up apartment. The street life was, shall we say, eventful. One night in the wee hours I was woken up by multiple sirens, so naturally I looked out my window. Across the street, also on the third floor, I could see a window that was lit up by flames from within.
Many firefighting vehicles descended on the scene and screeched to a halt between our buildings. Firefighters leapt out and energetically set to work. The street was quickly closed off. Residents of the apartment building filed out onto the street in their nightclothes. Hoses were connected to hydrants. A ladder truck arrived and a fireman scrambled up a ladder and broke the window where the fire was with an axe. Almost as soon as they arrived, there were firemen scurrying about on the roof.
Soon the excitement seemed to die down, but the noise didn't, so getting back to sleep seemed to be out. So I wandered down to the street and stuck my nose in it. (I am a nosey fellow, I will admit it.) I spoke to a fireman who seemed to be just standing around. I asked him how bad the fire was. He said, "Oh, it was nothing. We got it out in no time." It was a mattress fire—a woman had fallen asleep smoking and set her mattress aflame. She got out all right, but the fire scorched the whole inside of her apartment, and there was some water damage in the apartment below.
I expressed ignorant surprise that they threw so many resources at such a small fire. "You guys were on the roof!"
So he schooled me. He explained that they move as fast as possible and treat every fire as if it's highly dangerous because it's so important to get in and get it put out before it runs away from them. "Any fire can get out of control," he said, "and you never know how fast it's going to move. So we move as fast as we can, every single time."
Seem like a good analogy?
Exponential
A friend who works in medical policy emailed to say, among other things, "people don't understand the implications of exponential growth."
If they don't, it was nicely explained by Megan McArdle recently in a column in The Washington Post called "When a danger is growing exponentially, everything looks fine until it doesn't." She began:
"There's an old brain teaser that goes like this: You have a pond of a certain size, and upon that pond, a single lilypad. This particular species of lily pad reproduces once a day, so that on day two, you have two lily pads. On day three, you have four, and so on.
Now the teaser. 'If it takes the lily pads 48 days to cover the pond completely, how long will it take for the pond to be covered halfway?'
"The answer is 47 days. Moreover, at day 40, you’ll barely know the lily pads are there."
It's the old trick question: I'll give you either one million dollars in cash, or one single red cent doubled every day for a month. Quick, which one do you want? You'd better have picked the penny.
The high potential for exponential growth is the reason some people are deeply worried about the spread of the virus and other people think it's much ado about nothing.
'Epidemiology' is the study of disease transmission
It may seem hysterical that so many things are closing, but our epidemiologists know what they are doing. They have switched strategies now. They're moving away from quarantining. What they're trying to do now is flatten the curve, and the method they're using to do it is called social distancing. Social distancing is where each citizen voluntarily limits his or her contact with other people and, especially, with large groups.
But let's back up to "flattening the curve" and what that means. Let's say 150 people in the area of Smallsville Hospital will have heart attacks in a given year's time. But they're distributed randomly—that is, more or less evenly—throughout the year. That means an average of less than one heart attack admission every two days. Since Smallsville Hospital has the capacity to handle ten heart attack admissions on one day, they can easily handle the load, continuously. Some people do die, but all receive appropriate care. That's a flat curve.
Now imagine all 150 heart attack patients arrive on the same day.
That's a steep curve.
If that happens, most of the patients will die—there aren't enough ambulances, there aren't enough EMTs, there aren't enough ER berths, there aren't enough doctors, etc., etc. The system is overwhelmed and many individuals won't be cared for, but will be ignored and left neglected and suffering.
The United States is blessed to have a high number of ER beds, and many hospitals have a good supply of respirators. But for any given number of people who will get COVID-19, the more we can spread those cases out over time, the fewer of us will die. So every effort to flatten the curve will help the medical system save more of us...instead of dying, many of us will have a respiratory illness, get better, and go on with our lives.
So how does social distancing help? There's a great, short, simple interactive graphic article at The Washington Post that makes the concept clear and shows you how it works. It's by Harry Stevens and it's called "Why outbreaks like coronavirus spread exponentially, and how to 'flatten the curve.'" It simulates an imaginary disease and shows you graphically how it spreads. Suits us photographers, who like to see things and are so comfortable with the visual. The WaPo, which is now owned by Jeff Bezos of Amazon, is normally behind a paywall, but it's making the essential parts of its coronavirus coverage free for all visitors as a public service. So you should be able to see it.
If the article doesn't work on your tablet or phone (it didn't work on my phone), be sure to look it up from your computer.
It's worth it. Even if you already understand.
Given the importance of the idea and the inherent difficulty of the concept, it's one of the best examples we've seen yet of interactive graphic news articles, in my humble opinion—the kind of thing that can be presented on the Internet but not on the printed page.
You're going to bring Alexandre Dumas in to this?
It makes it clear why closing the NBA and the bars helps. Officials can't enforce "sheltering in place," but they can eliminate the attractions that get people out and intermingling. You don't have to decide not to attend a crowded restaurant if the restaurant isn't open. You don't have to deny yourself the pleasure of churning in amongst thousands of other souls at an NBA game if there's no game being played out on the floor.
Every individual who "shelters in place" and stays at home as much as they can is helping flatten the curve.
That is, they are sacrificing their own convenience and entertainment for the good of all of us—for the good of society.
This is an important concept right now. The twelve-step program I participate in issued an official statement about the pandemic, which makes good sense because our primary activity is gathering for regular meetings which anyone can attend, and which conventionally end with everyone holding hands! But they declined to make any recommendations. I was disappointed by this. Leadership in a crisis never hurts, even when it consists of sympathetic suggestions.
They said something that I think highlights one of the greatest weaknesses of the United States as a nation of people. It's also been one of our greatest strengths—but right now it's a weakness. They sternly conclude one paragraph by deferring to the cult of individuality and self-will: "Regardless of group decisions, each individual is responsible for their own health."
It would be pretty to think so (to allude to Hemingway). But...no. Not now. We're all in this one together whether we like it or not. (I won't go into the fact that the present crisis highlights why society needs to provide basic medical care to all of its members, not just some of them. In a pandemic—and this is not going to be the last of them—taking care of only the rich just doesn't work.)
The fact is, by protecting yourself, you are protecting others; and by protecting others, you are protecting yourself. "Un pour tous, tous pour un (One for all, and all for one; also inverted to All for one, and one for all) is a motto traditionally associated with the titular heroes of the novel The Three Musketeers written by Alexandre Dumas père, first published in 1844. In the novel, it was the motto of a group of French musketeers named Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan who stayed loyal to each other through thick and thin." (Wikipedia.)
Individualism, self-interest, and self-reliance might be admirable traits in some circumstances. But they are not what is needed in the present moment. It is time for cooperation, not competition. In this crisis, the more we can be mindful of what is best for others, the better off we will be.
Honey, can you bring me some toilet paper? We're out!
And finally, if you're staying home and have time on your hands—and to end this where we began—here's a link to an odd and awkward subject that offends modesty somewhat—the history of toilet paper. And why we no longer use the Sears catalog. As Popeye says, faskinatin'.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the TP should be back on the store shelves in a week or two. Ninety percent of the toilet paper used in the United States is made here, and most of the rest comes from Canada or Mexico. TOP will be open for business during the contagion, assuming the portal continues to function.
Stay safe, friends, and God bless you and yours.
Mike
(Thanks to Dan W., Oren, and Erica)
P.S. Oh, and here's something funny. The grocery stores in the area are half cleaned out, but I eat mostly vegetarian—and the produce sections are still all but full. Sure, the bananas and potatoes (most popular fruit and vegetable, respectively) are gone, but for the most part that section of the store looks like any other day. The rest of the store might be depleted. But even fear-driven panic buying can't get people to eat their vegetables like their mothers told them to! It's like, yeah, sure, we're desperate, but we're not that desperate. :-D
Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.
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(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:
Glenn Allenspach: "A couple days ago, we my wife and I were discussing the TP shortage. As she held up a 12-pack of the stuff, double rolls mind you, I snapped a pic. She immediately said, 'Don’t post that, we don't want to attract any burglars!'"
John Krumm: "Great post. Both my brother and my wife are physicians. My brother is at a clinic in Seattle, where he said they are going day by day, wondering what fresh hell will arrive. Patient visits are down, but confusion, anxiety and dread is up. One visiting doctor just quit to go back to her home country, and they are down to three proper masks. Yesterday they set up an outside tent for testing and the wind blew it over. The cost of the test they have is around $1,000.
"Here in Duluth we have yet to see a single confirmed case, so we have more time to prepare, and are taking all the steps. I volunteer with a couple of groups, one working on housing issues. Helping the homeless is a serious problem. Having 100 people sleeping in close quarters was never the best solution, but now it's a recipe for disaster. We probably should rent out a couple hotels for that purpose, and will be pushing officials to offer that.
"To me what is really striking is the slowing of time, like you always hear about during accidents. Everything is in flux, so two weeks ago feels like an eternity.
"I have my fingers crossed that the best thing coming out of this is that we fundamentally change our national priorities."
Kristine Hinrichs: "Interesting. Here in Milwaukee we’ve been on increasing lockdown since last Thursday or Friday. As of 5 p.m. today everything is closed except grocery stores, pharmacies, and other essential stuff. Bars are closed (and it’s St. Patrick’s Day) and restaurants can only have take-out. You can’t gather in groups of ten or more. The one thing that you can do is go outside. The parks are packed with people walking, all maintaining their six foot social distance. It looks like a physical fitness epidemic. Yes, TP and hand sanitizer are in short supply. The good thing is that some grocery stores have special hours only for people 60+ like me or at another kind of risk."
Hélcio J. Tagliolatto: "Excellent post, Mike! Same situation is occurring in Brasil. I read this on a website in Portugal yesterday: 'Your grandparents were asked to go to war; you are only asked to stay on the couch. For God sake!'"
schralp: "Here is another way to think of the situation:
