By: Tommy Druen
Guest Columnist
Libraries have always felt like a second home for me. Perhaps that’s because, unlike most kids, I spent an inordinate amount of time in one. It wasn’t just that I loved reading—though that is certainly true. No, my time there came courtesy of my mother, who was our school librarian. As a result, after-school hours and long summer days often found me among the burgeoning shelves.
When you’re in elementary and middle school, confined to a library that, until seventh grade, lacked even a television, you find ways to occupy yourself. I read books, magazines, and newspapers. I listened to records—yes, actual vinyl. I constructed elaborate paperclip chains (for which I should probably issue a belated apology to my mother). And though it has been a while, I suspect I could still load a filmstrip projector with reasonable skill.
Spending that much time among the easy fiction books for the youngest of readers caused me to form some opinions. Among those are: 1) Dr. Seuss’s books, while enjoyable, are wildly overrated. 2) Bernard Wiseman, with his Morris and Boris series, deserves far more recognition than he has ever received. And 3) If you want to achieve success as a children’s author, your best bet is to follow the well-worn formula that assures kids they can make a difference—no matter how small they are.
Now, I fully expect my inbox to be flooded with impassioned defenses of Dr. Seuss, but the third point is where I’d like to focus. I consider myself a pragmatist—though some who know me well might argue I’m more of a cynic. And I’ve always had my doubts about the ubiquitous “one person can change the world” mantra. Sure, history provides examples, but they are exceptions, not norms. At some point, I’ve wondered whether this message fosters unrealistic expectations, leading to inevitable disappointment. We may end up with doctors who save countless lives, but consider it a personal failure that they didn’t cure cancer.
Recently, however, my skepticism about the power of the small was put to rest in dramatic fashion. And no, it wasn’t some Greta Thunberg-esque figure who changed my perspective. It was something much smaller—infinitesimally so. In fact, if my calculations are correct, roughly 2,000 of them could fit on the period at the end of this sentence. That’s right—I’m talking about the influenza virus.
I would love to say that I admired its potency from a safe distance, but unfortunately, I became an unwilling host. And while I had no desire to play the role of Petri dish, the virus had other plans. The result? A level of misery I had not experienced in at least two decades. I’ll spare you the more vivid details, but suffice it to say, my bed and bathroom saw far more of me than I ever intended.
The first day, I was awake for maybe a couple of hours. The second wasn’t much better. By day three, I felt just well enough to Google “appropriate songs for funerals.” It took over a week before I was fever-free and cleared to return to work, and another full week beyond that before my appetite even began to reappear. Days blurred together, and even now, three weeks removed from my microscopic ambush, I’m still digging out from the backlog of tasks that accumulated.
In my post-illness research, I learned two facts from the Centers for Disease Control and the World Health Organization. First, the influenza virus measures approximately 100 nanometers in size. For perspective, there are 100,000 nanometers in a single centimeter. Second, and more astonishingly, it takes only one influenza virus to make a person sick. If ever there was definitive proof that size is no indicator of effectiveness, this is it.
Mark Twain once quipped, “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.” It’s a profound quote, and one I’m now convinced he said after having the flu.
Emerging from my battle, I’ve developed a deep-seated loathing—yet grudging respect—for my submicroscopic adversary. But I also walked away with two lingering thoughts. First, I wonder how well a children’s book about a virus would be received. And second, for the vast majority of people, getting the flu vaccine should be a no-brainer. Next year, you can bet I’ll be first in line.
