You may remember my name from the many letters of mine this paper has been kind enough to publish. So you may realize that Donald Trump and I don’t have much in common. But now we do. We both have COVID-19 symptoms at the same time.
It’s difficult to determine exactly when either of us got infected. Trump may have gotten too close to Hope Hicks on Air Force One. Though I was wearing a mask at the hardware store and in the lumber yard, the yard worker who helped me find the roofing materials had forgotten hers but we kept six feet apart. Maybe it was the stylus I used to sign the invoice.
Donald and I both have a network of people fanning out before and after our infection. Melania has symptoms. My wife doesn’t – yet. There’s Bob and Mark who I spent Thursday evening with as we have every second or third Thursday for 35 years and their partners and contacts. Though I am usually very careful, I worry about the moment I reached over to dip my cracker into Mark’s tub of hummus. All these moments of inattention lead up to a million dead. I feel some sympathy for the president as I feel the shivers and aches and worry for myself and the lives of those I may have passed this on to. Maybe Donald and I have one more thing in common. We may both wish we had been a little more careful.
DAVID ERIKSON
Weare