Snakes Alive

a lament

(a photo of Snakes Alive from 2018—Harriet was a baby then, and now she’s wearing the same dress four-year-old Bea is wearing in the photo above)

---

The first time I heard about Snakes Alive, a program held annually (in non-pandemic times anyway) at our library, I was interested, but not obsessed or anything. It was just one more fun thing to add to our summer calendar, which often involves programming at our wonderful public library. “Make sure to get here an hour early,” the librarian told me. “That conference room only holds two hundred people.”

Two hundred people? I scoffed at the idea—I’d never seen two hundred people at the library. So we did not show up an hour early—more like twenty minutes early—and, just like that time Sky and I went to a taping of the Price is Right, we were the last ones in the door!

I’m so glad we made it. What those other library patrons knew to expect was an informative, funny, delightful talk by North Carolina-based herpetologist Ron Cromer about snake ecology, snake behavior, and identifying native snakes of North Carolina. Kids (even very young ones) sit rapt as he shows slides, cracks jokes, and invites questions from the audience.

Then the really exciting part happens… he brings out two dozen nonvenomous snakes, and passes them around to adult handlers. Kids (and brave adults) learn to touch snakes with just two fingers, to approach them without fear, and to appreciate their beauty. It’s really fun and educational, and I’d highly recommend inviting the program to your school, when school is back. It’s one of the things we missed, last summer and this summer, as we wait for the pandemic to end.

I keep remembering last summer, when I was organizing with other faculty members over reopening plans across the UNC system of sixteen colleges and universities. We didn’t think schools should reopen in-person last August, and we were ignored, but sadly proven right. One of the arguments people made in favor of full reopening was how unfair and hard the pandemic had been on college-age people. They weren’t the ones most at risk, and they should be allowed to have a normal life—or as close to normal as possible. These arguments were made mostly by parents of young adults, and it was true—young people really have suffered, and it’s hard to imagine a first or last year of college completely conducted over Zoom.

But there was no vaccine then, and congregate living was dangerous, even for people in the lowest risk group. Now young adults can get vaccinated, and I truly hope they are having a great summer. I can’t wait to teach in a classroom again (I mean, I can wait… but I’m glad we’ll be in-person in August).

But my kids, Beatrice and Harriet, and all their young friends and cousins, are still missing out on library things like Snakes Alive (not happening) and LEGO club (online), and it’s still tricky to take them to the grocery store. Why tricky? Because they aren’t vaccinated (can’t be yet) and a lot of places say “if you’re vaccinated, no mask required” but who knows who is vaccinated?

In North Carolina, only 42.5% of us are fully vaccinated, and only 53% of adults 18 and older are.

I have a neighbor who falls into the unvaccinated category. He is elderly, and so at great risk, but he’s seen videos on Youtube and has heard warnings from friends that the vaccine isn’t safe. I’ve sent him Youtube videos from doctors assuring him that it is safe, and I’ve told him over and over that my experience, and Richard’s, and my parents’, was great—the vaccine is free, its side effects hardly worse than a flu shot for us. And best of all, we are pretty sure that we won’t get severe cases of Covid-19.

I know it’s unlikely—though not impossible—for young kids to get severe Covid-19. And I know that some things, like playing outside (which we do with other kids) and going to school wearing a mask (which we also do) are pretty safe. But the important library programs, many museum programs, many camps, and even just important ordinary joys like sleepovers have all been disrupted.

It’s not too much caution that’s holding us back, as people who thought that college should reopen face-to-face before we had vaccines said last summer. A good friend of ours got very sick with Covid-19 last year, and was sick with a fever for a month. When he was seven! We’re all about protecting kids, and we applaud libraries, bookstores, museums, and other kid-friendly spaces that are doing their best to accommodate the significant portion of the population (under 12 years old) who can’t be vaccinated, as well as our still-high Covid-19 rate, by still requiring masks and offering outdoor and online options.

But, as others have said, it didn’t have to be this way. Deliberate misinformation, like the kind my neighbor reads and watches, and which our twice-impeached former president still spreads (even though he was infected, hospitalized, and vaccinated), has taken so much from us. The big things, like the lives of our loved ones and the health of so many people still suffering from long Covid. Jobs, work, financial security.

And the little things, like sleepovers and Snakes Alive—which, who knows, could inspire someone to become a herpetologist!

They’ll be back, I know. But in the meantime, I’m frustrated with the people who can but still won’t get vaccinated. I’m sad that Bea and Harriet don’t get to hold two dozen nonvenemous snakes this summer. And I’m angry beyond measure at the hypocritical Republican politicians who take the vaccine but tell others it’s not safe or necessary.

Even though I’m angry, I know that won’t help much. This LA Times article, which focuses on “big picture positives,” is a useful guide to talking about the vaccine with skeptics. What about you? How are you influencing people you know who haven’t gotten the vaccine? Has it worked?

We’ll see you Tuesday with a new week of animal focus. There might be a hint in the photo below from our haul at Flyleaf Books, where we shopped an awesome (20% off!) member sale yesterday (they also have a great used selection). They’re still requiring masks, and we appreciate them.