A pandemic isn’t a hurricane. We have water and electricity, internet and roads clear of fallen trees, but there is a sort of strange preparation for the unknown akin to a storm. It’s taken shape in bare store shelves, curtailment of entertainment, and news conferences by a governor and president buoyed by doctors, educators, lawyers, administrators, and in South Carolina, chaplains and signers.

By Margaret Evans, Editor

March pulled a switcheroo this year – coming in like a lamb, going out like a lion. A whole pride of lions, actually. And boy, did the month morph fast. My head is still spinning.

            Two columns ago, in early March, I casually wondered whether my husband and I should consider canceling our April trip to visit our exchange student daughter in Central Europe. There was this thing called Coronavirus, and it was starting to sound a little scary. But it was early days yet, and maybe it would pass. We decided to play it by ear.

By Margaret Evans, Editor

My timing is lousy.

                  You regular readers (bless you both) may remember that in our last issue, I announced my intention to give up anxiety for Lent.

                  Hahahahahaha. That was funny.