Despite a thriving, vibrant economy in Warhaven, social and health issues remained a constant and sent occasional foul winds across the bucolic hills and valleys of home. Money could not solve everything. While River Currents Power revenue was funding electrical power throughout town, Warhaven Hospital was struggling with a virulent strain of flu this winter. Visible proofs of this danger were three burials this month out the Last Mile, all geriatric residents of the Warhaven Care Center.
The City Council took this issue up at a special January meeting in which a panel of health professionals spoke.
The simplest prevention remained the thorough regular washing of hands. The illness was racing through the elementary school. One day last week 37% of the first and kindergarten students were out sick! Wellness didn’t look much better in the other grades. The school board was considering mandating masks for staff and students.
Ike Moseseek, as a means of putting this into perspective, brought up three points for invulnerable constituents to consider:
Many western tribes were decimated by European diseases in the 1840s and ‘50s.
In 1918 the Spanish Influenza killed five times as many residents of Warhaven than did World War I.
Polio epidemics in 1916, 1949, and 1952 crippled 13 and killed 8.
Orin added that measles was rearing its ugly head again, and along with flu shots, the city needed to educate young families on the prudence of measles vaccinations.
Tootie asked the panel what might the city do better for the suppression of coughing. “I wonder, might we distribute lozenges or cough drops?” (She intended to compare this to urban sanitary needle or condom distribution programs, but thought better of it.)
Masks were readily available, and the panel held out hope for results. (A tangent: The Lyon Chapman Bat and Casket Company was venturing into health care paper products, one of the first of these, coincidentally, were surgical masks from cottonwood with ear straps made of hemp sting loops, 10 cases of which Hen Chapman donated to the city for distribution as the council saw fit.)
In the council meeting Debbie Dacnic sought the floor to speak. “We know these facts of contagious diseases. As a society we tend to be full of ourselves as invincible warriors against germs. Maybe what we need is a tour of the Last Mile, a visit to the graves of the Spanish Influenza victims, pay our respects to our ancestors who died of cholera, typhoid, and tuberculosis, to dysentery and diphtheria. Where I’m going is the town should organize a Cemetery Tales literary event with a public health theme. As the newest member of the Cemetery Board, I’d like the City Council’s consent — and encouragement — to partner with the museum and library to proceed in planning.”
Mayor Holman nodded, then polled the council. There was unanimous support. Councilor McDaniels made the motion, with Councilor Moseseek offering the second.
George Ansbach leaned over to Debbie. “Good work! I really like your creative thinking, Councilor Dacnic.”
The City Council certainly heard about this Cemetery Tales from concerned citizens.
“You’re being awfully preachy about this! I know how to wash my hands!”
Another citizen protested to Mayor Orin Holman that, “You folks are stepping out of bounds. How come public health is more important than paving roads or keeping the storm drains open?”
Orin walked with this constituent down to Brown’s Lunch Counter where the mayor bought the man a chocolate malt. He mentioned the death of an uncle in the smallpox outbreak of 1947, of another uncle’s crippling from polio in 1958.
Orin sighed, “Mumps, measles, meningitis. They’re all real. As much as we were all taught in school history that was actually myth, this event will be truer to the historical record.”
The constituent nodded, “I guess we’re lucky we don’t have malaria and yellow fever here.”
“Listen, what Councilor Dacnic is organizing is history and a literary event, not science, not pontification of gloom and doom. While there will surely be some artistic interpretation, the actors will focus on the facts. She’ll have Plowshare news, hospital and care center records, and I know the museum is rich with journals and diaries. Our ancestors did die of disease, many deaths that could have been avoided with a better understanding of microbiology, water sanitation, and ventilation. One of our jobs on the City Council is to show concern for quality of life among us all. If this play raises just a little more awareness, it’s done its job.”
Having these ideas voiced by such a calm man as Orin Holman made the constituent better appreciate the complicated job of city government. The concept ceased to be a tangle of hidden threats and overt lies, evolving into political common sense.
Orin listened to him, and so he listened back. The chocolate malt did not hurt matters.
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