Envision

Yes, that's a roll of toilet paper.  As I took it off the shelf I remembered when we acquired that roll of toilet paper.  It's a different brand than what we usually buy.  It came out of the back of a trailer that our little town in New Hampshire had placed in the Fire Department parking lot, across from the Police Station and down the street from the Middle School.  The trailer was there to supply necessities for folks who couldn't find what they needed at the local grocery store, or couldn't afford them.  This was about 16 months ago, when we were all asked to stay at home, limit our trips to the store, do only the absolutely essential tasks, and try not to spread a disease few people understood, and many people died of.

The name on the wrapper of the roll of toilet paper is Envision.  I read that now as an opportunity to envision the kind of society we attempted to be back then, and in some places nearly achieved.  We were asked to care for one another, to love our neighbors as ourselves, to restrict ourselves from some of our usual activities for the sake of others' wellbeing.  As a result of our initial efforts there were reports of improved air quality, free-roaming animals, reduced traffic on roads and highways.  And there were places where folks could find canned goods and macaroni in boxes and free rolls of toilet paper if needed.

It seems strange to look back almost nostalgically at the beginning of the Covid pandemic. And I don't mean to paint that time as all rosy and uplifting.  It was frightening, and our health care systems were as close to overwhelmed as I ever want to see them.  We were, however, in many ways united in the face of a common threat.  And sadly, that sense of unity is now past.

There is no need to recount the many ways in which our responses to the pandemic have once again divided us - families, friends, neighborhoods, school districts, states, and the nation are all reeling from the radically different ways in which people respond to the request to put someone else's needs ahead of their personal preferences.

Here I will simply say that when we open that last roll of toilet paper, I at least will continue to envision a world in which loving one's neighbor includes those moments when we'd rather do something else.