In the COVID-19 era, what happens in Vegas does not stay in Vegas

For my novel set in 1919 Denver, I've conducted research on World War I, women's suffrage, Prohibition, transportation, and the Flu Pandemic of 1918-19. There's plenty of info on all of them. The most chilling stories outside of Europe's trench warfare come from the pandemic. I was rereading historian Phil Roberts' account of the flu pandemic in Wyoming. It originally appeared on wyohistory.org and reprinted recently on wyofile. This was part of a story in the Thermopolis newspaper on Jan. 8, 1919:

“Entering the home of a neighbor a few days ago J. B. Baer, of Ismay, found the farmer and his wife with two children lying dead in their beds, a third child dying on the floor. All were victims of influenza. The last child died shortly after he had been taken to another ranch for treatment. Indications showed that the entire family had been stricken together and had died partly from starvation, being unable to help each other.”

Wyoming's Bighorn Basin was the last part of Wyoming to be settled at the turn of the 20th century. You can still see a whole lot of wide open in the Basin. Imagine how it looked in 1918, a few decades after settlers wandered in. More than likely, that neighbor in the article lived miles away instead of right next door. Wyoming's towns had it tough enough in the 1918 pandemic with proximity breeding contagion. Just think how it would be if you lived miles from nowhere in winter-bound WYO, caught the flu and brought it home to the family.  

CNN featured an opinion piece by John Avion on the pandemic's course in Denver. The flu had swept through the only city of any size in the northern Rockies. The mayor called for a shutdown in October. Flu cases subsided and in early November and the city decided to  have a parade to celebrate the armistice. A week later, the flu came back with a vengeance. On Nov. 22, new cases began to spike and on Nov. 27, the Denver Post featured this headline: "All Flu Records Smashed in Denver in Last 24 Hours." All told, 8,000 people died in Colorado, compared to 700-800 in Wyoming.

Avion sums up his piece this way:

As Harry Truman said, "The only thing new in the world is the history you don't know." Public health is among the most difficult government actions -- when actions work they seem like overreactions. What's unforgivable is for leaders to remain willfully ignorant of history and therefore doomed to repeat it. Their weak-kneed decisions could result in the death of someone you love.

Think about this as we see governors such as Brian Kemp in Georgia want to open up tattoo parlors and gyms. Or when a mayor such as Carolyn Goodman in Las Vegas offers up her city to be the country's  "control group" for removing strict social distancing measures. 

Hate to tell the mayor this but when COVID-19 parties in Vegas, it does not stay in Vegas. 

Homegrown tomatoes a hard row to hoe in Wyoming

Only two things that money can't buy
That's true love & homegrown tomatoes

So sings Guy Clark in "Homegrown Tomatoes." He'll be in Wyoming next weekend, playing at the Targhee Bluegrass Festival at the Grand Targhee Resort at 7,850 feet on the west slope of the Tetons. Not many maters grown at that altitude. Not many grown anywhere in Wyoming.

One two things guaranteed in WYO
High altitude and a short growing season

And, sometimes, hail in July.

So I'm no Guy Clark. But you know what I'm talking about. Homegrown tomatoes are a tough chore here, even if you live in a Banana Belt community such as Lander or Buffalo.

This urban gardener has six plants this year. Plenty of fruit on the vine. Barring a hailstorm or Biblical plague, I expect a fair crop this year. Best not to get too optimistic. Not exactly sure how farmers deal with the vagaries of growing things on a large scale. I was reading yesterday about a hailstorm that decimated the barley crop in Wyoming's Big Horn Basin. The barley plant is at its peak and ready to harvest just when hail season is at its peak. That doesn't seem fair, does it? The blooming barley is delicate and ripe for destruction. Mother Nature is a cruel mistress. Barley, of course, is one of beer's main ingredients. The barley crop in the Basin is bound for big brewers, craft brewers, and home brewers. Whiskey distillers, too, such as Wyoming Whiskey in Kirby.

No barley, no beer. I weep.

Hailstorms tend to be localized so it's likely that some plants survived when the wind tore through the barley. We send our best wishes to the Basin barley growers.

And now, for this gardener, there are tomatoes to tend.