Brent Harold On March 12 of last year, COVID-19 had its first practical effect on my life when I went to a drugstore to buy a card for my wife's birthday. A woman was standing in front of the card rack making her selection. Hmmm, I thought, maybe I better wait til she's through. I bided my time at the magazine rack until she moved on. My wariness at that point wasn't an instance of what was soon to be the almost ubiquitous recommendation of social distancing. I kept my distance because for the first time, it occurred to me there was a finite chance that this fellow human was contaminated.