This and that

Nothing much going on, so I guess it’s time for a little of this, a little of that.

First off, and I realize that because this column often treats subjects with humor, I promise I am not being facetious about this. I’m serious. So here goes:

Monkeypox. I’ve read and heard that some officials are worried that this virus isn’t getting the attention it should, even as more vaccine becomes available. I can think of four reasons why it isn’t happening the way officials think it should.

First, it could simply be fatigue – vaccination fatigue, pandemic fatigue, fatigue over the never-ending barrage of statistics that have been thrown at us. We’re only human, after all, and we’re still dealing with Covid, for crying out loud. And then here comes something else, the existence of which we were totally unaware until recently.

Second, there could be a whiff of homophobia mixed in with the fatigue. Some misinformation got out that monkeypox is primarily spread by gay men, sort of the same thing that was said about AIDS back in the day. This could lead some to think, “This can’t have an effect on me,” again, much like some said about AIDS, back in the day.

Third, there has been a lot of talk about how monkeypox is rarely deadly – something which makes some people automatically think they’re okay, even if they get it. Nothing to get steamed up about, right?

Fourth – and I feel again the need to say I’m not being facetious – is the name itself. Monkeypox? To me, it sounds like something out of the Three Stooges. I recall an episode where Curly, Larry and Moe were in Egypt, looking for the tomb of “King Rootin Tootin.” I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that some people in the expedition were coming down with “Monkeypox.” Seeing as how it was the

Three Stooges, it probably would have made victims act like monkeys or something. Anyway, I hope my point is getting through. To me, “swine flu” sounded scary. “Influenza” sounds scary. “Smallpox” sounds scary. “Ebola” sounds scary.” “Monkeypox?”

So those are my theories. I guess it’s too late to come up with another name. Possibly – and unfortunately – a more dangerous and deadly version of monkeypox could come along, forcing folks to take it more seriously.

I hope this fall we aren’t threatened with mockingbird flu or some such (And while I previously said I was serious, that last sentence actually was intended as a joke. Lordy, I hope it was a joke).

• • • •

And now for an example of how we humans can mess things up without even trying. I read it right here in this newspaper:

In northern California, one can find the Redwod National Park. In that park there grows a coast redwood tree, which has been given the name Hyperion. It is the world’s tallest tree, at 380 feet. This tree, with its reputation, naturally gets a lot of attention. Too much attention, apparently. It has been declared off limits.

The reason? Too much trampling, too much whacking out undergrowth to reach it, too much standing on the tree’s base – in other words, too much attention from us.

The tree is estimated to be 600 to 800 years old, and had been getting along just fine in a remote area of the forest, with no trail leading to it, and no one even knowing it existed, until it was “discovered” in 2006. Since then, things have gone downhill for that area of the forest. People have made their own trails, practically obliterating whatever was in their way.

Seems we can’t keep from hurting things. In 1980, the Oxford Dictionary included the word, “overtourism,” meaning tourism which can actually ending up doing harm, sometimes from simple over-crowding. And it seems to be a world wide phenomenon.

Trouble is, a lot of people, also worldwide, depend on tourism for their livelihood. So who’s to decide when enough is too much? Well, in the Redwood National Park, it’s been decided, and a $5,000 fine can await anyone who visits the worlds tallest tree.

I really don’t see that as a solution to problems world-wide, though. Smarter folks than I am will have to come up with the answer. If, indeed, there is an answer.

• • • •

Just in case anyone’s interested, my bruises are beginning to fade nicely. The yellow is gone, leaving only the prettiest purple behind.

I’m speaking, of course, of my adventure, rescuing a kitten from between the radiator and grill of my car (still don’t know how it got in there).

I still haven’t seen hide nor hair of Mama Cat or kittens since that fateful day, and I have to say I’m not mourning. I don’t hate cats, but having them sniff around my car is a good way for them to get in trouble, and for me to get bruises. (EDITOR’S NOTE: David Nichol is a freelance writer who retired from the Times-Herald. He can be contacted at nicholdb@cablelynx.com.)