Thursday, April 02, 2020
Day #21
You'll note right here that the 11th Hour says this Dr. Robert Gallo is "INVOLVED IN RESEARCH PROVING HIV CAUSES AIDS." That's only partially right: he and a colleague discovered the makeup of the HIV virus. He's no slouch.
I saw this Dr. Gallo for the first time last night, and he sounded masterful, not simply because he "discovered" the HIV virus, nor because he's head of something called The Institute of Human Virology at the University of Maryland, but because he sounded as if he knew what he was talking about and actually--get this!--apologized to Brian Williams for talking too much.
Williams fended off that apology quickly because he too knew that the guy sounded not only knowledgeable but convincing. Williams probably looked at his notes just then and realized that he was running long; so he started a wrap, but Gallo wouldn't let him. He raised a finger. (You can find the whole 11th Hour here, but the raised finger segment is at 25:12) He asked permission to say one more thing, then emphasized that he what he wanted to say "is going to be important." I was all ears. "I think, within the global network right now--and we'll be coming out with this very soon--. . .we think and I believe there is something that could really help, right now, with a vaccine, which is a not-for-this-specific vaccine, for this virus that is available now that could very well--and I believe will have--a major effect for the world."
My inner skeptic knows all of that may go nowhere, but, for better or for worse, Gallo's last-minute revelation felt like ice-cold lemonade amid a midday scorcher. His phone is likely ringing off the hook, even though it likely has no hook.
I spent most of a beautiful day on my knees cutting back last summer's growth on bushes and grasses on the east side of the house. I'm healthy, maybe a few sneezes early morning (allergies), but no symptoms of anything evil. Still, last night, it was difficult to tell my 72-year-old body that I wasn't suffering, the aches and pains all in the logical places--knees and back and shoulders. I creaked--first long day working out in the yard.
But those few words from this fellow got my attention. He may be ghost dancing, but in a flash of a moment I couldn't help but see the light. Becoming a believer is not all that difficult when the need is so profound.
It's 6:17, and pitch dark outside my window, pitch dark. But I'm guessing that somewhere on the eastern horizon there's a glance of light because some feathered guest, a contralto I judge, is just outside, starting her aria.
Miss Emily is right--"hope is a thing with feathers that perches in the soul." This morning's thanks is for good news.
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