Coronalism

As soon as I started typing the name (above) for my current article, a very distinguished guest showed up on my screen,  "Hi, my name is Mr. Noah Webster." "Who are you?" I politely asked?  "As a writer, you should have known, I created the Merriam Webster dictionary, and I'm here to notify you that the word 'Coronalism' does not exist in the English language."  I guess time will tell if this word will stay part of our history, or will end up being a total waste of precious resources of human life, billions of dollars and mountains of anxiety.  On a public and financial level, the historians will have many books and novels written on this scary and bumpy ride of our lifetime. They'll study and take apart our generation like we examine the Marror lettuce for the Seider night. Still, on a personal level, it's totally up to us. You see, many of us are "shopping" for great ideas and brilliant advice on how to make these days memorable days of family fun, quality time with our children, growth in Emunah, and a chance to take a deep look into Hashem's exclusivity. The question is, what's the return policy on this long shopping spree? Will we feel like calling Amazon for a return label so we can erase these 'depressing' times from our memories? Or, are we investing now in beautiful daily plans, games, learning programs, art, baking, and above all, face to face shmoozing sessions into the long nights, about silly, or not such silly stuff?  Some of us, those who take their time to invest in the essentials of our Jewish structure, will I''YH proudly remember "Coronalism." One boring, wintery night down the road, we'll take out our virtual albums and rehash those cozy little meals, and the moments of 'mom, I accept, I guess it's not so important' or 'how can I help today' (That's a stretch). On the other hand, those of us who became certified 'couch potatoes' sitting on their eye quenching devices, reading and following all the traumatic assessments and watching a zillion ads about disinfecting grandma's garage, are likely to face the consequences for their emotional and physical trauma, which they'll bring along on their way to the pool for few summers to come.    There's no doubt that there are lots of legit concerns out there, for the health and wellbeing of our loved ones, the financial desperation some of us will unfortunately face, and some additional outcomes we'll have to weather, as responsible individuals, as a result of this colossal outbreak. Some sleepless psychiatrists are already arming their tool-box with post-Corona, multiple-choice questions for their blackboards. Still, oddly enough, some warning signs are flashing in the air. Take hold of Yourself. Look into the mirror, and ask the confused looking person you see there, "do I understand the opportunity I've got? Am I depositing into my piggy bank some precious moments which will surely earn me some nice returns?" How do we walk this tight rope and distinguish the difference between Uber-eats or Mom's kitchen, social-distancing or family-cuddling, and blasting-sirens or family-singing? All it takes is putting on your thinking cap, (sorry my beloved iPhone, I'll be with you shortly) and making a bold choice. I'm going to do the right thing. I'll prove to myself that I've finally learned how to invest and play in the high-risk stock market of my life's savings. The symbol for the best stock you can ever own is SR - self-respect. I'm almost venturing to say that only a shlemazel can fall asleep at the wheel and miss this marvelous opportunity. Don't focus on the avalanche of social garbage out there, or you'll miss this high-speed mountain train flying by .  Talking about the shlemazel, I'm reminding myself of an ancient one. An incompetent waiter walked around at a wedding hall, when it was still in style to make grand weddings, serving a gourmet, steaming soup. Suddenly he typically graced one of the guests with a ladleful on his crispy tuxedo; the guy jumped out of his seat ready to hit the roof, while our friend Mr. Shlemazel was brilliantly inquiring; "Was it a vegetable or matza ball soup?" (Ok, in corona year it would be french tomato soup or corn chowder.) But you get the point; this quarantine gezeira is a fantastic chance and responsibility to brace our homes with nuts and bolts of warmth, essence, and godliness.  Let's do it before life goes back to (not) normal.