Column: The state of Florida
Yesterday, my husband got a gun.
He ordered it a month ago and didn’t tell me. He knows I abhor guns, especially since Sandy Hook, Columbine, Parkland, Las Vegas, Orlando … the list of tragedies is too long.
But I understand why he did it. As a lung cancer survivor (knock on wood), we know that catching the COVID-19 coronavirus would spell death for me.
Well before Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis’ better-late-than-never stay-at-home-order, while crowds still descended on Fort Myers Beach and packed pontoon boats to motor down the Caloosahatchee River, Tom and I started social distancing. Our last day at our neighborhood pool came when we counted 18 people floating on noodles. Maximum capacity is 14.
We played our last round of golf in early March — two weeks after the first COVID-19 case was announced in Florida. After cleaning every inch of the golf cart with wipes, agreeing with our foursome that the flag would stay in the cup, the stress was too much. No 19th-hole libations for this couple. We just wanted to finish, grab our clubs and go home.
Our daily life is a simple system: Tom does all the shopping. He says trying to stay away from people in the aisles is like a nightmarish round of dodgeball. I venture out only to walk our dog, Muffy, or to ride my bike. Other walkers and bikers are out there as well. And even though six feet is not a hard distance to judge, it’s a game of chicken. Before Gov. DeSantis finally issued his stay-at-home order on April Fool’s Day, I always blinked first … when I could see them coming. I was startled so many times by people coming up behind me that it was a nerve-wracking scramble to get out of the way safely.
I went online and designed a T-shirt that reads in rather bold letters: If you can read this you are too close. I haven’t ordered it yet.
Tom was afraid people who saw me wear it could be offended, even angry. He’s seen tensions rise on the checkout lines when customers think others are not standing far enough away. He thinks that as time goes on, as food and supplies become even harder to come by, as people wait in long lines in the hot sun to enter a store, things will get even more wiggy.
That’s why he bought the shotgun. To protect us. For his peace of mind.
I pray he never has to use it.
By the way, in Florida, gun shops are designated as essential businesses. But like toilet paper and antiseptic wipes, shelves once full of ammunition at Walmart are all empty.
Mary Fran Gleason is a journalist and former managing editor of the Reporter. She serves as a trustee on the Shelter Island Country Club Board of Trustees.
Editor’s note: More than 192,000 background checks for new gun purchases were conducted in Florida during the month of March, the state’s highest total for any month in 20 years. Nationally, more than 9 million background checks — also a record — have been conducted by the FBI in the first three months of this year. More than 30 states have listed gun shops as essential businesses.
