Remember when…

In the beginning:

“We’re all in this together

Yes, I’m happy to wear a mask to protect my neighbors

Does anyone need anything from the City Market?

MoCo  – neighbors helping neighbors

Let’s share books, recipes, laughs – from a distance

You, with cancer, I will protect myself everywhere I go so that I can still visit you – from a distance

We need to support our vulnerable populations

Our poor neighbors, community members, on the Navajo Nation – let’s help them”

Remember those days?

Those were good days.

Scary. For sure.

We had no idea what was coming. But there was a collective angst that bonded us together as a community.

There has always been, in rural towns, an entrenched belief that we are all reliant upon each other, regardless of our differences. When push comes to shove, you show up for your neighbors to help with branding, preparing meals, bucking hay, regardless of where y’all sit on the political or religious spectrums.

It takes a village.

Unfortunately, in just a couple of months, it has changed to:

“You can’t tell me what to do

It’s all a hoax

I am healthy and fit so I don’t need to wear a mask. If you feel like you need to wear one, maybe you should eat some veggies and go to the gym instead

Who cares about my neighbors

I’m not going to the store for you – no one’s going to make ME wear a mask

I am going to gather maskless, in public places because it’s my right.

I might start shit with anyone who doesn’t agree with me on the issue of masks

Our neighbors from Shiprock shouldn’t be allowed to shop here

Fuck the Governor”

I have been so honored to live in a tiny world where being a part of a community means that you are loved and cared for – even by folks you’ve never even met.

This sense of togetherness was one of the main reasons that I picked here instead of anywhere else to live.

But, I am watching as neighbors helping neighbors spirals into neighbors hating neighbors.

Sad people. Very very sad.

 

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