Summary

The author, White Feather, recounts a trip to Wal-Mart during the early stages of the coronavirus outbreak, highlighting the contrast between the peaceful walk to the store and the sudden onset of panic observed among shoppers.

Abstract

In the midst of unseasonably warm weather, White Feather embarks on a thirty-minute walk to Wal-Mart, enjoying the serenity of nature and the absence of thoughts about the coronavirus. Upon entering the store, he is confronted with the reality of the viral fear as he witnesses customers diligently disinfecting shopping carts. This prompts an abrupt end to his mental reprieve as he rushes to complete his shopping, particularly concerned with securing toilet paper and his favorite oils. The sight of a customer wearing a surgical mask further escalates his urgency to leave. Back home, the author reflects on the pervasive fear of the virus, which seems to have spread even to his remote location, and he resorts to meditation to clear his mind of the viral anxiety.

Opinions

The author values the mental clarity and peace achieved during his walk to Wal-Mart, emphasizing the importance of not thinking.
White Feather places significant importance on certain grocery items, such as onions, toilet paper, and specific oils, revealing a personal attachment to these products.
The author expresses surprise and concern upon seeing a fellow shopper wearing a surgical mask, indicating a sense of alarm and unfamiliarity with such precautions in his community.
The fear of the coronavirus is likened to a virus itself by the author, suggesting that the psychological impact of the outbreak is widespread and contagious.
Despite the global concern over the coronavirus, the author maintains a level of skepticism and humor, as evidenced by his desire to wear shorts in the warm weather and his quick exit from the store upon encountering the masked shopper.

Grocery Store Panic

Fear going viral

I went to Wal-Mart today. I had to. I was out of onions. I simply cannot go a single day without onions. And Wal-Mart is the only grocery store in town.

Right now you’re probably thinking, “White Feather must be an Aries since he’s such an onion freak.” If that’s what you’re thinking you are absolutely correct — but let’s not talk about that right now.

It’s a thirty minute walk to Wal-Mart from my apartment. That’s nothing. Walking back home with 8 bags of groceries, however, is something but that’s not something I want to talk about either.

First, I want to mention the weather. Last week I was shoveling snow. Today the temperature has been in the seventies (Fahrenheit). I was not even wearing a coat or jacket! If I had any brains I would have been wearing shorts but I don’t and I wasn’t. I was wearing full-length jeans and my legs were hot — and I mean that strictly in a temperature sort of way.

When I go on a thirty-minute walk my number one intention is always to NOT think during my walk. Nothing ruins a pleasurable walk more so than thinking. Seriously.

My noggin was empty. I had an exceptionally pleasant walk, managing to keep thoughts out of my noggin. I was totally an observer to the world around me — utterly free of mental commentary. Gosh, the weather was as perfect as it could be. Mother nature was vibrating very strongly. The sky was beautiful. The air smelled good. The clouds were painting themselves. The songbirds were having a whoopjamboree.

And then there was that gaggle of geese who flew overhead in a crooked, lopsided V formation that was honking, “Spring is coming! Spring is coming! Spring is coming!”

How utterly rejuvenating!

And then I entered Wal-Mart through those magic glass doors that opened as I approached even though I didn’t say, “Open sesame.”

That led me to the area where the shopping carts were. I saw a long line of consumers with disinfectant wipes in their hands wiping down all the surfaces of the shopping cart they had chosen.

Screech. Halt. My noggin suddenly came back online. Damn. I had gone all morning long without once thinking about the coronavirus and now it was slapping me across the face.

“Screw this shit,” my now awakened noggin said. I grabbed a cart and quickly proceeded with my shopping. My first destination was the toilet paper aisle. I wasn’t out but the situation was imminent. I might hate being out of onions but running out of toilet paper is something I simply cannot handle — and that has nothing whatsoever to do with my astrological sun sign.

I wasn’t doing a big shop but rather just a medium, mid-month shop — even though it’s not even mid-month. Most of what I needed to get was produce. I’m not a vegan but I got the impression that the woman checking me out at the register probably thought that I was.

Anyway, I was going up and down aisles like a good consumer when it happened. I’m not sure but I think I was on the oil aisle. I needed to get a new jar of organic, raw, unfiltered coconut oil. That’s something else I can’t live without. It’s one of my three favorite oils — the other two being virgin organic olive oil and virgin organic sesame oil. I was about to look at the oil shelves when I spotted something coming toward me.

It was a male customer pushing a shopping cart in my direction and he had a surgical mask on his face! I live in a town out in the bookdocks hundreds of miles from civilization. This was the first time I have ever seen anyone wearing a surgical mask in this town other than that one visit to the hospital nine years ago.

I grabbed the oil and hit the accelerator on my shopping cart. I suddenly wanted to get the hell out of that store as quickly as possible.

Luckily, I didn’t forget anything that was on my grocery list which was written in barely legible ink on a 3 X 5 index card (I’m old fashioned).

Soon I was home. I live blissfully alone so there are no humans in my apartment I can catch a virus from, right?

But I couldn’t help thinking about my Wal-Mart experience. I live out in the boonies. Maybe the coronavirus hasn’t gotten here yet but the fear of it has certainly arrived. The fear of it is almost like a virus of its own.

I tried to purge thoughts of the virus out of my noggin but then I made the mistake of getting online. Talk about ‘going viral!’ Everywhere I turned it was either coronavirus this or coronavirus that.

So I did a little meditation. I cleared my noggin of all thoughts and viruses. I put my laptop to sleep and went into the kitchen. I took some deep breaths and soon my only thoughts were about wondering what I should cook for dinner that would involve lots and lots of onions.

Speaking of cooking…

Cooking in Our Genes

A look at generational inclinations

medium.com