Delivering care, decency and love

By Congressman Jim Himes

This week, I washed my hands, put on a mask, and paid a careful visit to Reverend Patrick Collins of the First Congregational Church of Old Greenwich. Pastor Collins was adding the 3,000th fluttering white flag to the growing flock on his church’s lawn. He has placed a flag there for each citizen of Connecticut lost to the coronavirus, hoping, as he told me, to help people understand the magnitude of the loss and the fact that each person lost is not a number, but an individual—someone’s daughter or father, coach or neighbor.

I realized that Pastor Collins’ flags had just surpassed the number of Americans lost on 9/11: 2,977. I couldn’t help reflect on how different the coronavirus tragedy is from the one we all lived through almost 20 years ago.

On 9/11, evil had a face. Or to be more precise, 19 faces. Our response was clear: we would deliver justice, largely through our men and women in uniform. Our job was to support them, to comfort the bereaved, and to remember the lost through memorials like the one that stands sentinel over Cos Cob harbor.

Today our task is less clear. Our foe has no face. It can arrive on an extended hand or a careless sneeze. Although we have been hit harder than most, no place and no one is spared. Very few of us are not feeling economic pain. And all of us are denied the hugs, reassuring touches, chats and raised glasses that are so important to keeping us calm and centered.

But our task is no less important. And in some ways, we can each play a more active role than most of us could after 9/11. For starters, we can keep up the hand washing, mask wearing and care that is beginning to reduce the virus’ spread.

Just as importantly, we can distract and consume ourselves doing the most meaningful thing we do: caring for others. Our food pantries need help more than ever. Mary and I realized that our many wonderful non-profits are terribly squeezed right now, so we did our “year-end” giving in March. Governor Lamont has asked for medical and non-medical volunteers. Our teachers, health care workers, letter carriers and first responders are doing their duty under excruciating conditions. You can’t thank them enough.

It costs us neither money nor time to end someone’s fear and isolation. We’re all feeling it, but none more so than our senior citizens and those who live alone. A phone call, a mailed card or even a text can make all the difference to someone feeling scared and isolated.

As I drove home to Cos Cob from my visit to Pastor Collins, I passed a sign on a lawn on Sound Beach Ave. “This too shall pass” it read, in colorful childish letters. Made my day.

Today, we are all soldiers. Not delivering justice, but delivering care, decency and love.

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