When I came to St. Louis in 2004, I volunteered to work for a national health insurance company. At one informal session, I asked people what were the differences between the East Coast and the midwest. One woman said, "My daddy said no matter east, west, north or south, Missouri will always survive!" I kept remembering that as I looked out my window from my nine-story-high apartment into a dense fog and rain and listened to reports of the fast creeping Coronavirus. Fast forward to March 12, 2020 and Don's call to me to take our morning walk in the Mall. I did not go. Instead, I went down stairs and walked in the long hallway in my apartment complex.
Posted at the front door was a large, authoritative sign with details about the disease. A list of dos and don'ts suggested how each person might avoid contamination. Much of the information had been circulated already by newspapers and media. I walked on and found our maintainance-crew busy setting up rooms for meetings. I passed the small ground-floor cafe and saw staff and volunteers serving people and readying the place for weekly mahjong games. As I made these observations, I thought of our planet and how vulnerable we are to each other.
So who are we here in Missouri? Parks and lakes, educational and cultural institutions and the coming together of two of the country's greatest rivers have made all of Missouri a place to be visited and live. At the same time, we are not without our stubburn brand of citizens who have and do disparage "newcomers." We have overcome disasters and floods on our own without major governmental help. But now we share with the rest of the country a sense of unease about changes we need to make to confront the malicious enemy before us. We shall make whatever changes are necessary to ensure individual safety while maintaining fair and equitable communities. And we shall do so on behalf of our neighbors, our families, our children and of generations to come.
Keep well and keep in touch.
Beverly
