March 19. By Jon Show. I’m not good with words when pressed for them in uncomfortable situations. My typical response to someone when a person close to them dies is, “I’m sorry. It sucks.” I think it conveys my feelings perfectly, but I guess I’m supposed to come up with something more eloquent.

So, coronavirus.

We’re a week removed from shutting down my literal arena of work – professional sports – as well as schools, churches and pretty much everything else.

We’ve canceled my favorite thing to do – watch my kids play sports. We’ve canceled late night television and suspended production of American Ninja Warrior and who knows what comes next.

We’ve canceled my favorite place to send my kids – government supported daycare. Sorry I mean school.

School closings have forced what we’ve termed “distance learning” with laptops, which means coronavirus has somehow turned me into a virtual teaching assistant. Three hours into the first day of distance learning I pledged the remainder of my life to ensuring that teachers are paid more than everyone.

Jon, the Modern Dad

We’re not supposed to gather in large groups. Which doesn’t seem hard for middle-aged men, most of whom have been practicing social distancing for years. I no longer have to come up with excuses for not wanting to go to dinner with my wife’s friends from yoga or go to a cocktail party that requires me to tuck in my shirt on a weekend? Things could be worse.

The Great Run on Toilet Paper appears to have subsided and, given the amount of TP hoarding, I think many, many of you have intestinal issues that you may want to address with a gastroenterologist once this is over.

Again, coronavirus.

On the germaphobe spectrum from “opens-door-with-sleeve” to “opens-door-with-mouth,” I definitely lean to the mouth side of center. I wash my hands in the bathroom and before cooking and that pretty much sums it up. I might use Purell if I’m at Urgent Care and the person who signed in before me threw up on the pen.

Now I’m washing my hands all the time and starting to understand why my wife has had hand lotion next to the sink for the last 15 years.

I’ve tried to stop touching my face but I just don’t think it’s possible. I never realized this but I probably scratch, touch or rub my face 300 times a day. I tried to stop and can’t. Someone needs to open a rehab for face touchers. Or give me one of those collars they put on dogs after they get neutered.

Still, coronavirus.

The experts tell us that it’s here and people we know will be infected, but the threat to healthy families is low. Infected children are asymptomatic and people under 50 have generally symptoms so mild that they’d probably keep going about their daily business under other circumstances.

This may be the first time in modern society that we’ve dealt with a viral illness on this scale, but Future Man was nearly two when the H1N1 flu pandemic hit the world. News coverage was wall-to-wall and as new parents we feared daily that the sickness – and its high mortality rate in kids – was coming for him. It didn’t.

Now, as the children of grandparents I think it’s reasonable to worry that the sickness – and its high mortality rate in the elderly – might be coming for them. Certainly the odds are low but the fear mongering is high.

So, coronavirus.

My kids – like kids everywhere – are asking questions. They want to know why we’re canceling everything and why our pantry – which normally contains two days of food and a box of old craisins – has a little more food in it than normal. I told them we’re just being safe. And then I taught them to never become like the people who bought more food than they needed.

They also want to know why something like this happens. The best answer I could provide was that society gets weird every ten years. Since World War II – just to rattle off a few – we’ve had Vietnam, JFK, Watergate, the Cold War, Desert Storm, the 9/11 attacks, the Great Recession and now this. All were periods of great upheaval but we emerged every time, albeit with a little callous on our souls that reminded us to #NeverForget.

The one hidden benefit of a period like this, I told my kids, is that people start being nice to each other again. They stop shouting in traffic and hold the door for people and wave hello on walks. Something like this makes you pause and realize that 90 percent of what we do is meaningless and that we should focus more on the 10 percent that matters.

But, again, I’m not good with words when pressed in uncomfortable situations. I guess I’m supposed to come up with something eloquent, but I can’t. I guess I’m supposed to wrap a neat little bow on this and hope that next month I can go back to making fun of my kids. But I can’t.

I’m sorry. It sucks.

—Jon Show lives in Cornelius with his wife and two children. His column, Modern Dad, appears in the monthly print edition of Cornelius Today