A series of dispatches from America in the age of Covid-19.
My father now knows nine people who have been killed by the coronavirus. He’s 83 and entirely sound of mind and body. He rides his bike many miles every morning around Audubon Park in New Orleans and is as fun to talk to as he was when he was 40. His only response to the news that he and my mother would be confined to the house I grew up in was to call the liquor store and order seven cases of wine.