Dazed and Confused

by Kitty Guckenberger

Is the war on terrorism confusing or what?  Just when Americans think they know the score, some bit of news or, better yet, an entirely new story surfaces, contradicting what we thought was true.  It's happened so often you'd think we'd be used to it by now.  Look at our reaction to the first case of inhalation of anthrax in Florida.  Don't worry, the experts said, the stuff might not be ubiquitous, but it does occur naturally.  Never mind September 11, the old man probably contracted it traipsing through a stream in North Carolina.  OOPS!  Swipe that – it was sent to his office.  Now it's in New York – but it's not sophisticated, and won't hang suspended in the air and attach itself to the inside of your nostrils or lungs.  Neither will the Daschle sample.  OOPS!  This isn't quite the jv, clumpy stuff we thought it was, it's actually a fine-tuned and high-grade variety.  But, rest assured, it's not contagious.  UNLESS you're a mail sorting machine, in which case, it turns out, you can pass on the pesky spores.  But the general population is safe.  UNLESS you're a postal worker in Washington, or if you happen to live near a certain mail facility in New Jersey, or if you're a Vietnamese immigrant in the South Bronx who delivers medical supplies at the Manhattan Eye, Ear, and Throat Hospital…

And it goes on.  A few weeks ago, we'd "eviscerated" the enemy; now, we find him a "stubborn foe."  One day we're assured by Condi Rice and the rest of the Bush team that we're achieving our objectives on the ground in Afghanistan.  The next day Donald Rumsfeld needs to justify our "progress" to a room full of journalists.  Scared of another terrorist attack?  So is John Ashcroft, which is why he has warned us twice in the past month to be on extra-high alert.  But, of course, don't forget to go about business as usual.  As for your mail, it's "safe."  But if you touch it, don't forget to wash your hands.

How should America respond?

If you're still scared, here's a suggestion from a doctor quoted last week in the Washington Post: get a flu shot.  The good doctor tells folks "they have no need to keep a stash of Cipro, no need to take any antibiotic, even if they feel a cold or flu coming on.  What they need to do is get a flu shot, to minimize chances of catching the flu, which could heighten anthrax anxiety and exacerbate the strain on the health system."  Yippee!  I don't know about you, but I feel better already.  If I develop flu-like symptoms after I've been vaccinated, I'll know I have the big A.  WAIT!  Scratch that -- another story in the same edition of the Washington Post says DO NOT get a flu shot.  Not only are there not enough doses to go around (just like Cipro!), but "taking a flu shot will not help diagnose anthrax, because numerous viruses cause flu-like symptoms."  Oh, well.

At least we can take comfort in the stepped-up security at our nation's airports.  There's some good news.  WAIT!  How did that guy board a Southwest flight with A LOADED GUN?  Now Norman Mineta says we've moved to a zero-tolerance policy.  (Don't ask why it took us so long.) 

Americans are disconcerted, and they have a right to be.  Shouldn't Tom Ridge be offering comfort by the cup full?  How does he think it feels to watch the venerated CDC and the postmaster general backpedaling, or to see the Sec Def on the defensive?  I don't want to learn along with Tommy Thompson; I want him to know a heck of a lot more than I do.  Mr. Ridge, I know you're new to the job, but pick up the ball, for goodness sake! 

We still crave information, for all the good it does us, but we need direction.  We've become news junkies – reading the paper front to back, watching network and cable-news programs, working above the din of NPR and CNN.  We're doing our part to keep informed and to be vigilant, but we no longer know if we're coming or going anymore. 

In the meantime, we'll have to accept that ordinary life has become surreal, to expect the unexpected.  The day one of our local mail facilities tested positive for anthrax was the first day in a week I received a pile of mail.  The day Ashcroft sounded the second terrorist alert was the first day since September 11 a cop car was NOT parked next to water-treatment plant by my house, guarding DC's drinking supply.  Last night the mail arrived at 8:45 PM.  It was delivered by a plain-clothed stranger, not our normal carrier, but an intrepid type in street clothes.  "Better late than never," he said.  A new motto?  Why not.  At this point, anything's possible.

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