RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL – (Opinion) There comes a point when figuring out what not to write about is almost easier than finding subjects which might interest, even enlighten readers. There is just so much background noise demanding our attention these days, that it sometimes seems as if it would be best to ignore it all.
At least for now, this gringo finds himself in that unenviable spot.
Starting with the most obvious subject not to write about, it is hardly worth revisiting the increasingly unhinged behavior of soon-to-be ex-president Donald Trump which continues to suck in public attention like a giant robot vacuum cleaner, so far in excess of its importance that even Trump junkies – and there are still millions of them who crave their daily fix – are beginning to consider the possibility and pleasures of abstention.
Indulging his endless Quixotic ravings, Trump’s so-called ‘elite strike force team’ of legal help has managed a scorecard of zero victories, out of a total of 40 legal actions contesting the vote count in numerous states. No team coach in any sport I can think of could survive even half a record like that. It continues to produce plenty of fodder for late-night TV comics, but it all seems well past it’s ‘sell-by’ date. Enough, already!
Is it really worth raking together the leaves of President Bolsonaro’s fashioning of his 2022 election campaign to retain the green and yellow sash of the Brazilian presidency he loves so much? We already know he will continue to follow the Trump playbook which appears to dictate: “I don’t give a damn what the media say about me, just as long as they headline it and spell my name right.”
Despite resultant high media exposure, the president only gave clear support to six candidates in the recent Municipal elections. Four of them lost, even with Bolsonaro’s rising popularity among the poor. That surge in popularity, certainly helped by a R$57 billion program of cash handouts to informal workers that provided desperately needed help during the current economic slump, should have improved his candidates’ results. Little is gained by idle speculation as to whether his star is still rising or, like Trump’s, heading towards the cliff edge and the removal of his sash.
Reading the bad news about the inexorable spread of Covid-19 in Brazil – with (so far) more than 6 million reported infections and 165,000 deaths – and about what lifestyle changes – permanent and/or temporary – each of us has had to make or should have made, can be only a little less disturbing than a positive virus test result.
Moreover, seeing pictures of maskless, happy partying at virus-spreading events only reinforces the view that these selfish actions, like those of their gringo look-alikes, are totally irresponsible. Inevitably, the virus surge which will follow Christmas promises to be anything but merry.
Even the stunningly good news – the world is on the cusp of starting to use the promised Covid-19 vaccines to dramatically reduce and eventually eliminate the infection – has, as accompanying baggage, the myriad issues of who will get the jabs and when; whether rich countries and individuals will receive the vaccine before the less fortunate; and who is going to pick up the not inconsiderable tab for inoculating the world?
I’m at a loss as to what to anticipate returning home to São Paulo after nearly nine months of idyllic, self-imposed Covid-isolation in the Bahian rainforest. What will have changed permanently? What has remained just as we left it?
Will cultural events return at the beginning of the New Year? Will I be able to safely splurge at our favorite restaurants? How will I feel about no longer being able to spend hours in the pool, looking out at the sea through the grove of jackfruit trees, I know I’ll miss the loud thump of falling jaca, shaken off the trees by the wind or the monkeys. Will I, like so many urbanites, lose that marvelous sense of peace which has come from being surrounded by the wonders of nature? I certainly hope not.
How will it feel to have masked elbow to elbow contact with friends and colleagues I haven’t been with for months, while remaining anxious about contracting the virus?
And will my beloved Golden Retriever, Jordan, still recognize me and forgive me for the many months away? It’s been really hard to communicate with him on ZOOM. I keep reminding myself that Odysseus’s dog Argos was the only one to recognize him when he returned after his long voyage. This fires my optimism.
In the end, does any of this matter enough to make it really worth drilling down, searching for a deeper meaning and committing it to comment? Or is it all just the background noise of our modern societies at a time of dramatic change? It’s hard to know.