Holiday Letter for a Most Unusual Year

The corn was frosted, taters is scarce, an’ I lost my best houn’ dog but just the same Christmas is Christmas.

This was the saying on the front of a Christmas card pack I bought many years ago. I don’t recall why I bought the cards other than perhaps I was stunned by the depressing holiday message. I vaguely recall that we did lose our beloved Labrador Retriever, Sam, that year. But back then, we certainly never imagined a year like 2020.

 

Last December, I found myself in cold, rainy Madrid. The United Nations Climate meetings (COP 25) were supposed to be in Santiago, Chile, but political unrest and violence led to a sudden shift of the conference to another continent and a lot of scrambling to find new accommodations and flights. And here I sit, a little more than a year later, on a cold rainy day here in Pennsylvania (well, actually, it is in the 50's which is odd for December), watching the snow remnants turn to slush and mud and thinking back on the months since COP25.

 

Colleagues at COP25

A mini reunion of some RMSSN "alum"

Christmas 2019 was quite different. David dropped Joren and me off at Newark airport early in the morning. Our friends Terry and Sally Master were on the same flight, and when we arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica later that day, we met up with Corey who had flown in from California. We had a late lunch and spent the night in the city at Hotel Don Carlos, one of my favorite hotels which has sadly permanently closed – a victim of the pandemic. The next morning, our friend and Tico colleague, Israel Mesen met us and we picked up others: Tom LaDuke, three of his children, the primatologist Jill Pruitt and one of her graduate students who had all flown in from Texas, Jenn Lansing, and members of the Brink family. Terry, Tom, Israel, his relative Eduardo (who was with us on our Panama venture a few years ago), Jenn (who I do restoration work with), the Brinks, and I are co-investors in the Camaquiri Conservation Initiative.

We headed north and over the mountain range to Camaquiri. Our holiday season was spent “christening,” celebrating, and exploring this new site situated on approximately 500 acres of spectacular rain forest in the Caribbean lowlands. We had wonderful leisurely hikes through the forest, met our new “neighbors,” and discussed future plans for the field station that we had invested in. It was a wonderful way to welcome in the new year (despite the mud), flawed only by Dave’s decision to stay in PA to take care of the animals and farmhouse over the holidays.

 

So much rain and mud!

The kitchen/dining area at Camaquiri

The daily review of wildlife sightings

 

A few weeks later, I flew to the NCAA annual convention in Anaheim as a part of the work that I continue to do with that organization. The panel sessions focused on student-athlete welfare and well-being, rules compliance, communicating the value of sports, etc. Little did we know that in less than two months, intercollegiate athletics, including March Madness, would be suspended. The best part of the trip (besides seeing long-time acquaintances at the convention) was meeting up with Corey afterwards to do some birding along the shore and in the mountains, touring Caltech’s campus, and going to a Deep EndSessions dinner/concert with the Lonesome Ace Stringband at the amazing Deep End Ranch.

 

The kitchen at Deep End Ranch

I returned to campus to my dean-work and teaching my Environmental Health and Costa Rica as a Model of Sustainability courses. At the beginning of that course which is taken mostly by public health majors, I introduce epidemiology and we discuss John Snow’s early “detective” work with cholera outbreaks in London in the 1800's. In the news, there were the first reports of a new infectious disease in Wuhan Province, likely zoonotic (jumping from animal to human) in nature. This provided a contemporary case study for us to follow and to "practice" some epidemiology in real time, using the John Hopkins dashboard as a tool. Within weeks, it became a bit too real as we watched this initial outbreak spread around the world.

 

Days before faculty and students were to leave for course-related spring break trips, I was called into meetings to decide whether one trip to Rome was still a good idea. Given the rapidly rising number of cases of COVID-19 in Italy, I thought not. But the group went anyway. I left with students on February 26^th to head back to Costa Rica; COVID had not yet reached Central America. It is always wonderful to introduce students to the wonders of the tropics and the people of a country I love. But many of my days were interrupted with long-distance Zoom meetings back to campus as administration began to fear for what was coming. The students who went to Rome would have to self-quarantine for two weeks when they returned. This was particularly important for several nursing majors on the trip who would not be allowed back into their clinical sites until they were cleared after quarantine. While we felt safe at our remote field stations, I could sense the growing fear about what was to come. Two days before we were to return to the U.S., Costa Rica reported its first case of COVID and we were a bit nervous having to go through both the Miami and Newark airports on our return to Pennsylvania. My colleagues Terry and Tom from East Stroudsburg University (where I used to work) had their course trip canceled by the institution, just 7 days after we had left to come down.

 

Finca Cristina - a shade-grown coffee plantation

 

Life on the river

Israel teaching!

My colleagues Jenn and Natasha

Students at Camaquiri

Lynette and Carmen - our cooks

 

The rest of March is a bit of blur.  About a week after returning from Costa Rica, we were told to be prepared to go online with our teaching “just in case.” On a Thursday, there were plans to have faculty practice online teaching either the following Tuesday or Wednesday. The next day, I met a former colleague for a drink and distinctly remember wondering if it was such a good idea as we were beginning to realize that the virus was no longer just overseas, and we had seen the overfilled hospitals and death toll in China, Italy and Spain. Later that day, the college announced that we were going fully online by Monday. My public health students no longer wanted to follow the epidemiological patterns, and several were starting to question their choice of majors.

 

It was fortunate that Moravian College had good technology in place and all students and faculty have the same Mac laptops. Several faculty had been teaching virtually either for some online programs already in place or during a mumps outbreak on campus in fall of 2019. We already knew the students in our courses pretty well since we had made it half-way through the semester in-person. Still, the transition was not easy for many on either the teaching or learning end. And it was somewhat disastrous for the sciences and health fields that rely on hands-on learning in the laboratories or clinical settings, especially programs that are accredited and have required hours of practicum for graduation and eventual licensing to practice. I can't imagine what it was like for faculty who had school-aged children at home that they had to help with online learning too.

Joren came home from U Chicago about this same time to finish out his 2^nd and 3^rd terms of his junior year from home. With him doing his classes and Dave and I both teaching online, there was a bit of a “strain” on our limited bandwidth since we still get our internet through a DSL connection. No cable or broadband in these parts. With two classes and more meetings than I ever remember, I spent way too many hours in front of the screen on Zoom.

Working from home does have its advantages are you can find time for middle-of-the-day walks with Revi the retriever and baking -- if you could find flour and yeast. I became quite good at finding supplies online including two-pound blocks of yeast and bulk-order specialty flours from a regional mill run by Lafayette graduates. I have also found the best online site to order spices! With the current shipping delays and bizarre rerouting, this isn't such a good idea, but we didn’t yet have that problem back in spring and summer. I have baked a lot of bread this year. It is a good thing that we don't have gluten sensitivities in this household! I am not sure we can return to store bought bread - ever!

 

Spring blended into summer. Dave and I joined Terry and other friends for an annual spring bird count in the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area. We stayed socially distanced and it was great to see and hear both spring migrants and other people! Last week, we again joined Terry and others for our annual Christmas Bird Count in the Allentown area -- our coldest ever (it was 4 degrees when we started at 7:00 a.m.)

 

 

Corey came home to visit in early summer and was able to get his negative COVID test results back in time so that we didn’t have to mask and stay socially distanced in the house the entire time he was here. He somehow managed to get a sourdough starter through TSA and now making sourdough bread has become my new hobby.

 

July - the last time we were all together

While birding with Corey, we found an abandoned young cat who had apparently recently given birth. She was soooo sweet that we couldn't leave her behind. So Riley became the newest addition to our family. Five months later, she is still really sweet and is accepted by Zzzy and Rory.

My friend and collaborator Gillian drove out from Colorado to try to see her mother in an assisted living facility, but wasn’t allowed in. She visited us for a few days and drove back with an extra dog – her mom’s – to care for. We met at the climate meetings back in 2009 - the first one for both of us. Since then, we have collaborated on a number of projects and grants, including a new one that was awarded by the National Science Foundation in August of this year.

 

Gillian and I at the Lehigh Gap

Summer was spent in more Zoom meetings and developing protocols to get faculty and student researchers and our health programs back in-person as quickly as possible.  Joren had a virtual research experience with Caltech doing theoretical physics (that is about all I understood of the project). I swam a lot and am so grateful that the pool in nearby Palmerton opened in early July for people who had purchased annual memberships. Dave ran more than usual. We hiked and birded and gardened – all things that kept us sane and got us outdoors safely and often. 

 

The Palmerton Pool

Dingman Falls

At Rickett's Glen State Park

 

My first vegetable garden in several years - and a good harvest for months!

Mid-summer, we learned that Joren, as a senior, would have to move off campus as dorms would be saved for first- and second-year students. It is not easy to find an apartment to rent when you are over 700 miles away. He finally had success and left in August, six weeks before he needed to be back on campus, but ready to escape his parents. About a year and a half ago, he became a vegetarian, so Dave and I tried a number of new recipes over the summer. They were good, but we enjoyed adding meat to the menu occasionally after Joren left! His senior year will be so different with few in-person courses, missing his dorm housemates, and not being able to gather in person for the choirs that he has been a part of in college. I am so grateful that I was able to visit him on campus twice in his time there, including November 2019 where I attended a choral concert of his, took him to see a production of Hamilton, wandered downtown Chicago and the lake shore together, and had some good restaurant meals.

 

Back in LA County, Corey has had to deal with campus closures and still only can get into the lab part-time. There is a time-share protocol in place so they can remain as safe as possible in the region of the country with the highest number of COVID cases. It is so tough to try to do your graduate research that way, but he copes by getting out to the mountains to bird, spending time with Melvin his adopted rescue cat, and enjoying all the wildlife that visits his backyard. Like with Joren, I am glad that I was able to visit Corey last January for a few days when travel was still possible. Neither of them can come home for Christmas ’20 as it simply isn’t safe to fly. 😓

 

This fall, Dave’s courses were fully online. I taught in-person on Monday nights with my colleague Hilde, but we had to be flexible as we had a rotating cast of students joining in virtually on any given night. Some were in self-quarantine or isolation, and a few were stuck in Saudi Arabia unable to come into the U.S. even with student visas. The dreadful, seemingly endless Zoom meetings filled too many hours every day. I am so grateful that campus is closed for 2 weeks over the holidays, not only for the break (I had only 2 vacation days in 2020), but also for the Zoom-less days.

 

As someone who normally travels a lot for work, it has been odd being so homebound. The NCAA leadership institute I normally facilitate has been replaced by a series of virtual webinars that I have had to design with the help of my steering committee members. I am not planning a course trip to Costa Rica for March ’21 due to campus travel bans. COP26, which was to be held in Glasgow, Scotland in November, was postponed to 2021 and the U.S. officially left the Paris Agreement, going back on our promises to the world from 2016. There have been some virtual sessions and much discussion of “building back better”, but it isn’t the same as being at the in-person negotiations and meeting with friends from around the world.

 

In fall ’19, I was honored to be asked to serve on the board for Hawk Mountain Sanctuary. That organization, along with the Lehigh Gap Nature Center (where I have worked on the restoration of the contaminated landscape since 2007) and the Kittatinny Coalition (which works to conserve the section of the Appalachian Mountains in PA) were all doing strategic planning this year. More Zoom meetings! At least it was safe to hike at Hawk Mountain, at the Lehigh Gap, and along the Appalachian Trail this year so we could get out an appreciate all the conservation work and the wildlife we try to protect. Dave and I explored some new areas, especially state parks a bit farther away and away from the crowds; we found exquisite sites especially during the gorgeous fall color season.

 

A view from Hawk Mountain Sanctuary

The restoration work at the Lehigh Gap Nature Center (on a Superfund site)

 

Birthdays have passed uneventfully. No dinners out; we have braved take-out only a few times. Dave and I have seen way more of each other than we usually do and so far, still like each other! 

 

We have been through the most contentious (and long) campaign season that I ever remember and now live in a country so divided that family relationships and long-time friendships have ended or are on rocky ground. It has been a year like no other.

 

We try to stay positive and focus on what is good. We are healthy and live in a beautiful place that makes isolation quite tolerable. 

 

 

We have good jobs, that while they are quite different right now, still give us a chance to educate the next generation of scientists, conservationists, healthcare workers, etc. These young adults are struggling with the current “new normal” yet itching to solve some of the global challenges facing humanity and the planet. They give us hope for a brighter future.

 

So, with that thought, we send wishes for a restful holiday season and a better 2021. It may be different this year, but we hope that you can reflect on what is good in your lives and how we can each do our part to make the world a bit better. While it was too cloudy in eastern PA to see the great conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter, the photos we saw from around the world were stunning. I took this rare astrological event as a sign that the world can and will be a better place.

Happy holidays!

Diane and Dave

Happy holidays from the Husics!

 

 

Ponderings During the Pandemic

Illustration by iStock/smartboy10

On leadership:
 
There are many definitions of leadership. One that I particularly like is from a short article by Susan Ward:

A simple definition is that leadership is the art of motivating a group of people to act toward achieving a common goal. 

I have been thinking a lot lately about how this pandemic has, perhaps out of necessity, turned so many people into leaders, and I think this definition of moving towards some common goal is at least a partial explanation. 

Ms. Ward goes on to say:

This leadership definition captures the essentials of being able and prepared to inspire others. Effective leadership is based upon ideas (whether original or borrowed), but won't happen unless those ideas can be communicated to others in a way that engages them enough to act as the leader wants them to act. 

As we engage in the currently mandated (and smart) practices of physical distancing and sheltering at home, all of us have had to find new ways to communicate. Almost all dialog is now being done through virtual modes. Whether one is a “digital native” or not, this is difficult. Even as a self-professed introvert, I have always preferred in-person conversations. I hate making phone calls. I hate photos of myself. And now with hour after hour on Zoom, I have to not only make multiple “calls” per day, but I am also constantly confronted with an image of myself "staring back" while I do so!

On exhaustion and compassion:
 
A colleague pointed me to a recent article in the Chronicle of Higher Education by Beckie Supiano entitled “Why is Zoom So Exhausting?” A few lines in particular caught my attention:

• What is it, exactly, that’s so depleting about interacting with a grid of faces on video chat? Heavy users and experts in psychology and communication point to a number of factors: The body language and other cues that we expect but can’t access; the way we monitor our own appearance; the stimulation of staring into faces at close range; the inability to take a break, move, or change our surroundings.

• Zoom .... feels like a hollow impersonation of a face-to-face classroom.

• Another factor in the exhaustion .... is that so many people want to project to others that they’re doing business as usual, even while the news is full of images of death, of illness, of economic downturn and collapse.

• I think the exhaustion is not technological fatigue... It’s compassion fatigue. 

Exhaustion, yes. Compassion, even more so. I have witnessed so much of it over the past several weeks. There are heartwarming stories on the news (although usually relegated to the final moments of the evening national news). I have heard about students who are spending countless hours volunteering at food banks or at centers distributing lunches to families since they cannot currently rely on school lunches. Perhaps more scary, are the ones working as trained aids at nursing homes, serving as surrogate family to so many elderly citizens right now. Both are thankful for still being able to continue their studies through asynchronous online courses and/or the flexibility of their professors. Faculty and students at Moravian are working round the clock to do 3-D printing of face shields and stethoscopes. Other employees sew masks or scour the shelves on campus to find personal protection equipment to donate to local healthcare workers. Faculty are holding one-on-one virtual counseling/listening sessions with students at all hours of the day to help them through much more than a tough assignment or anxiety about an upcoming exam. These students are facing an uncertain future and for many, facing death of loved ones for the first time. The list goes on.  Let's hope fatigue doesn't end these good and important deeds and acts of compassion.

On societas:

Which brings me back to my original thought this morning about leadership. So many people – some unexpected – have stepped into a leadership role since COVID struck. They are focused on that common goal that is about so much more than simply “getting through this” but also about helping others who are truly in need, about being a good neighbor or friend, about reconnecting (albeit in unusual ways). They are striving to hold together the social fabric even while “social distancing.” Google and Wikipedia tell me that the term “society” derives from the Latin word societas which itself was derived from socius (companion, friend, ally). We may be experiencing Zoom and compassion fatigue from an abundant supply of and demand for both. But given how politically and ideologically fractured our country seemed to be over the past few years, I find hope in this renewed focus on connections, on society.

Gifts from a Pandemic:

Earlier this month, Mary Hinton, President of the College of Saint Benedict penned a blog post in which she identified “Five Leadership Lessons Hidden in the Coronavirus Crisis:

1. The Gift of a Renewed Focus on Community
2. The Gift of Clarity on What Matters
3. The Gift of Strategic Surrender
4. The Gift of Listening
5. The Gift of Imperfection 

Read that list again and reflect on the concept of gifts -- from a pandemic no less. Despite President Hinton's (and our) "existing in a space of chaos," we find the ability to see the gifts in this difficult moment of history, lessons for us all to be leaders. I couldn’t have described what I have been witnessing more perfectly than President Hinton does, so I recommend that you read her piece.

On resilience:

This past week, Moravian College hosted its annual InFocus Symposium (virtually, via Zoom, of course). The keynote speaker was Eric Klinenberg and the theme of his talk was “Spaces of Equality: Facing a Pandemic.” Dr. Klinenberg studies the sociology of disasters, but more importantly (at least to me), he tries to understand resilience. (As someone who works in the areas of climate change and ecological restoration, I too focus on resilience as humans, societies and ecosystems strive to adapt to a new normal.) There were many interesting ideas to ponder from his comments, but one that particularly stood out to me was in response to a question relating to how different countries are responding to COVID-19 in comparison to the U.S. Dr. Klinenberg noted that it is difficult to have an effective public health policy.... when there are deep levels of social fragmentation. Countries that are reducing the number of cases of coronavirus are characterized by “social cohesion, high support for governance by experts, are driven by science, and promotion of public good.” Further, he added, “countries that seem more successful draw on a deeper well of solidarity.”

During a panel for the InFocus symposium that I facilitated last week about climate change action, the U.N. process, and civil society, the participants (current and former students) began imagining the concept of "building back better" after this pandemic. Their youthful vision of the possibilities that lie ahead were both optimistic and inspiring. As Dr. Klinenberg noted in his address, we (our society, the collective global "we") are at a turning point. As we reflect on leadership, compassion, and the gifts that this pandemic has yielded, as well as what might come next, there is indeed much to ponder about. Given the actions of students and colleagues that I have witnessed during this pandemic, there is also much to be hopeful about.

~~

p.s. One more random pondering (yes, I changed a verb to a noun) on this rainy Sunday. When Brad Pitt (OMG) can do a humorous impersonation of Dr. Anthony Fauci (a scientist and most definitely a leader) on Saturday Night Live, followed by a heartfelt tribute to him, you know that we are living in unusual times.

What is normalcy these days?

Was that a chewink! that I just heard? That zree sound, although not quite right, had to have been the first-of-year towhee to arrive on our property in 2020. This Eastern Towhee or Pipilo erythrophthalmus (what a name) wasn’t getting his "drink-your-tea" song quite right but given that he had probably flown quite some distance overnight, I cut him a little slack. Plus, I am very happy to have him back for the spring and summer, even if he seems to have arrived a week or two early.

Eastern Towhee (photo by Dave Husic)

There is very little routine in our schedules these days in this new era of COVID-19. Our lives have become filled with uncertainty, fear, and perhaps, for many, even dread. The only certain thing is that we are all experiencing too much screen time. The Husic household is doing online teaching (or learning), too many Zoom meetings, and grading student work sent in digital formats. It has become challenging to separate work from personal time when you are home, 24-7. However, because, like so many others, I am now obligated to from home, I have the luxury to sneak out for a walk or to do a bit of birding during the day. It was during my morning walk today that I heard my feathered friend’s invitation to tea.

Is it “shelter in place” or “take refuge”? The latter sounds slightly more soothing. I am very fortunate to live on some acreage where I can sneak out the backdoor and still easily practice my isolation/social distancing/physical separation from other Homo sapiens, while enjoying the local biodiversity. Since we head into April this week, the species of plants and birds that will greet me each day will steadily increase. I have already welcomed the Spring Peepers, Wood Frogs, and American Woodcocks, along with daffodil, crocus, hellebore, hyacinth, coltsfoot, winter aconite and Magnolia stellate (star magnolia) blooms. I know, I should be more consistent with my Latin name usage. Perhaps this is something to work on if we are sheltering for a very long time.

Over the past several weeks, I have developed the bad habit of checking the dashboard set up by John Hopkins University a few times each day. We are closing in on three-quarters of a million “official” cases of coronavirus globally, but we all know that is a gross underestimate of the real tally. Odd that as a scientist, I am fascinated by numbers and graphs, but have long struggled with binomial nomenclature.

This semester, I am teaching an environmental health course which is an interesting way to apply my environmental and biomedical training and experience. Back in January – week #2 of the course to be exact – the students and I started tracking the coronavirus outbreak in China. Nothing like a real-time case study to raise all sorts of interesting questions from students about the growing zoonotic threats from human-wildlife contact, habitat disruption, and the illegal wildlife trade. With all the sophisticated data tracking that is available, it was also a good way to teach 21st century epidemiology (compared to the dreaded textbook chapter) and it certainly is an update from the early mapping that John Snow did during the 1854 cholera outbreak in Soho, London. Apple watches, Fitbits, and smart thermometers record body temperature (including fevers), resting-heart-rate and sleep-duration data, and we can track movement of people via cell phone signals. But I digress.

Perhaps we were a little too close to the information; as a class, we quickly predicted that a) this was going to impact us (as in in the U.S.) and b) that as a country, we were not doing the necessary preparations or precautions. In other words, we were going to be statistics in that case study. I wonder how many of our public health and nursing students are now rethinking their career choices as they realize that the textbook content can be not only relevant, but *real*.

~~~

Set up a routine. Try to find some semblance of normalcy in your days. Such is the advice that is being shared. Getting outdoors provides some exercise and fresh air, a reprieve from the screens, and gets me out of my sweatpants. It is also important for my mental health. Daily, I can see things getting greener – those unique hues of spring green, prettier than any in a Crayola box. Bulbs and some trees are already coming into bloom and migratory birds are starting to return. We have already had early visitors: a Tree Swallow, House Wren and, today, the Towhee.

While these things do provide some escape from the case fatality rates and depressing media feeds, they are far from normal. Anyone from eastern Pennsylvania knows that we had an unusually mild winter and that the months of February and March were much warmer than normal.

According to NOAA Global Climate Report for February 2020:

Averaged as a whole, February 2020 was near-record warm with a global land and ocean surface temperature departure from average of 1.17°C (2.11°F) above the 20th century average. Only February 2016 was warmer. This month marked the 44th consecutive February and the 422nd consecutive month with temperatures, at least nominally, above the 21th century average. The 10 warmest Februarys have occurred since 1998. The February 2020 temperature departure from average was also the third highest monthly temperature departure from average for any month in the 1,682-month record. Only March 2016 (+1.31°C / +2.36°F) and February 2016 (+1.26°C / +2.27°F) had a higher temperature departure.

This follows a similar situation from January:

The global land and ocean surface temperature for January 2020 was the highest in the 141-year record, with a temperature departure from average of 1.14°C (2.05°F) above the 20th century average. This value was only 0.02°C (0.04°F) higher than the now second highest January temperature departure from average set in 2016. The four warmest Januaries on record have occurred since 2016...

And from 2019:

The year 2019 was the second warmest year in the 140-year record, with a global land and ocean surface temperature departure from average of +0.95°C (+1.71°F). This value is only 0.04°C (0.07°F) less than the record high value of +0.99°C (+1.78°F) set in 2016 and 0.02°C (0.04°F) higher than the now third highest value set in 2015 (+0.93°C / +1.67°F).

I know that this sounds really technical. Remember, this scientist likes numbers and graphs. I also pay attention to phenology – the timing of seasonal events such as bloom times and first dates of arrival of migrating birds in spring. The impact of this year’s mild winter in the east was obvious when I started hearing about reports of cherry blossoms opening at the end of February. According to the National Park Service, the full (peak) bloom was in mid-March, thirteen days ahead of 2019. Historically, the National Cherry Blossom Festival in Washington, DC had been taking place during the first two weeks in April. [1]

In general, people appreciate an early spring. Why else would so many people tune in to see what Punxsutawney Phil predicts on February 2nd? This year, we hope that the warming weather will slow the nasty virus that is controlling our lives right now. But the early signs of spring that I watch year after year are unsettling to me. The early arrivals and bloom times are not normal.

Years ago, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change said in their 2007 Nobel Prize winning work the 4th Assessment Report:

Phenology …. is perhaps the simplest process in which to track changes in the ecology of species in response to climate change.

This year, 2020, will go down in history as the year after which nothing was the same. The pandemic we are all watching in horror is only one part of the global change in our future.




1. Chung U, Mack L, Yun JI, Kim S-H (2011) Predicting the Timing of Cherry Blossoms in Washington, DC and Mid-Atlantic States in Response to Climate Change. PLoS ONE 6(11): e27439. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0027439; available here. 

Some Covid-19 Epidemiological Data and Personal Reflections

Because I am teaching Environmental Health this semester (for public health undergraduate majors), the class has been tracking the coronavirus (COVID-19) outbreak all semester. Nothing like a case study in real time. I thought I would share some of the epidemiological data that we have been watching. As scary as it can be at times, as a scientist, I value evidence.

When we first started paying attention in mid January, the only cases of coronavirus (not yet called COVID-19) were in China. The map from John Hopkins University showing the extent of the outbreak looks very different now than it did back in January. It looked very different a week ago.

From the JHU CORVID tracking dashboard

The confirmed cases from China are represented in the graph below as they emerged over time (the orange data points/line).

Actual Cases of Corvid (China in orange, elsewhere in yellow, recovered in green). Data from JHU

The green data points represent the number of people who have recovered to date. Fortunately, after the initial lag, that graph is going up now. Reports from the Wuhan region of China signal that they are through the worst of this about three months after the initial cases of the disease (although there were probably some earlier cases). You can see this in the flattening of the orange curve.

According to the data visualized by John Hopkins University (collected from a variety of global sources including the World Health Organization), as of March 16th at 6:33 pm, there were 181,377 confirmed cases globally (this is almost 12,000 more than at 11:30 last night). There are currently 7133 official deaths reports (vs. 6513 at 11:30 last night). This is the "Buthcher's Bill" to use a reference from And The Band Played On, the movie about the early days of HIV/AIDS.

The yellow data points in the graph represent the cases outside of China (i.e. the rest of the world). I call your attention to the relative rate of increase in these cases versus the trends from China (the sharp slope of the yellow line compared to the orange one). There are likely many cases that were missed on the front end of this outbreak and many more that haven't been confirmed in parts of the world, including the U.S., due to a shortage of tests.

In the U.S., presumptive cases are documented through tests done locally; confirmed or definitive cases are confirmed through the CDC. So a) there is a lag, and b) many people who have symptoms are not being tested, so - at least for the U.S. - our numbers significantly underestimate the extent of the outbreak.

The image below (also from the JHU source) shows the number of new cases confirmed per day (in red) and recovered (in green). The spike on February 13th was due to a revised case definition in China.

Daily record of new cases of COVID-19 (red) or recovered (green). Data from JHU.

Note that the biggest one day jump so far occurred today, March 16th. The recent spikes are simply massive jumps in new cases - not a redefinition of the disease. In the past 24 hours, 368 people died in Italy alone.

Now the less objective observation: Having taught the history of disease in the past, including how societies respond and the impacts of inequality, it isn't surprising to see some of the behaviors we are all witnessing. It was the same in the time of the bubonic plague outbreaks and when the new disease we now know as HIV/AIDS first emerged. Some people rise to the occasion and show empathetic leadership, generosity and kindness. Others are greedy, self-centered, fearful, willing to profit from the hard luck of others, delusional (the deniers) or simply just jerks.