FROM THE PUBLISHER | Making it to spring break

Meanwhile, the time between spring break and the end of school flew even faster. It’s as if the finish line had a giant magnet, pulling us in. Prom (or the equivalent), awards ceremonies, the smell of lilacs, anticipation, finals. Boom. No more teachers, no more school. School’s out for summer.

But from early January to mid-March, that’s a rough patch in northeast Kansas. Long nights, short days, bare trees, and...what? Valentine’s Day? It’s just a long march, one foot in front of the other through the slush, dressing in four layers, your car covered in road salt and mud.

That’s the way I see the first quarter of 2021. Yes, there’s hope, because there’s a vaccine. But there aren’t enough doses for everyone, not even close, and so we still have to act like there isn’t one. We have to remain cooped up at home, we have to stay away from each other, we have to wear the mask. We have to go straight into Lent, do not pass Mardi Gras, do not collect $200.

The likelihood is that we won’t all be vaccinated until something more like July. But the dynamics change when the weather warms up, because we can get out and do some more things. Basically, we just gotta get to spring break.

OK, OK, I realize there’s actually no spring break this year at K-State. I’m using this as a metaphor. The point is, the next three months are going to be really crummy. We just simply have to push through it, one day at a time, doing what we all know we’re supposed to do.

We blow it, and we’ll flunk our finals. We do the right thing, and we’ll make the honor roll.

And let me be entirely clear here, in the event the gravity gets lost in the metaphor. There are 20 people dead thus far in Riley County. The hospital this week had more virus patients in than ever; three died in a two-day timeframe. We’re not actually talking A’s, B’s and C’s. We’re talking about the lives of our friends and neighbors.

But the point is the same: Now is the hard part. One slushy foot in front of the other.