One of my prize possessions is a photograph of my father and mother and me that was taken on Easter Sunday, 1956. I was 4 years old.
Mom and Dad and I are standing in our driveway by our Ford Fairlane about to head to church. Dad is wearing his navy blue preacher’s suit that he wore every Sunday. He is clutching his Bible in his right hand.
Just a few weeks ago, most Americans had never heard the term “social distance.” Now we are told we must practice it. Until the Coronavirus curve is flattened, we must stay at home. The offices are closed. The schools are closed. Even the church doors are shuttered. We are to work from home, homeschool the kids, and stay in our houses and apartments except for occasional scavenger hunts for groceries and toilet paper.