Today’s history lesson:  How did Tennessee become known as “The Volunteer State”?  And no, it has absolutely nothing to do with football.

Although there are folks who claim it harks back to the War of 1812, based on the important role volunteer soldiers played during that conflict, especially in the Battle of New Orleans, the most widely accepted version stems from President James K. Polk’s nationwide call for 2,600 volunteers to fight in the Mexican-American War (from 1846 to 1848).  Tennessee sent 30,000 . . . many of whom lost their lives in the process.

Now, why would I choose today to remind you of something we all should have learned in American History?  Because I looked at the coronavirus map on Bing Tuesday night.  And I just shook my head.

Remember my assurances last week that I wasn’t writing about COVID-19 or wearing masks or social distancing?  Well, that’s exactly where I’m headed now, and I hope you’ll bear with me and at least consider what I’m about to say.  I know it’s getting old and I know we’re getting tired, but from my vantage point I’m afraid the battle has just begun for some of us.

When I first started checking the aforementioned map, Tennessee was settled in right about number 17.  Over the weeks I’ve watched us gradually move upward . . . number 16 . . . number 11 . . . number 10 . . . number 9 . . .  And then last night I clicked on the link to the map, clicked on the down arrow next to the numbers for the United States, and then slowly counted from the top down, my cursor hovering over the name of each state on the list, lest I lose my place and think us better or worse off than we actually are.

On Tuesday evening, Tennessee had moved up to number eight on that list.  Number eight.  Number. Eight.  That puts us right up there with the COVID hotbeds of the country, those states that are struggling with containment.  California.  Texas.  Florida.  New York.  Illinois.  Georgia.  North Carolina.  Today Arizona managed to pass us and reclaim their previous spot, bumping us down to number nine again, but only by 343 positive cases, meaning we stand a good chance of passing them tomorrow and continuing our climb.

And now we’re approaching that time of year when the perfect storm begins to brew.  It’s colder, so we stay inside more.  There are holidays approaching, so we gather more.  We’ve been at this so long we’re getting lax in our vigilance.  Oh, and let’s not forget the flu . . .

For all of us there should be some hard conversations in the very near future.   Remember the gentleman from last week?  His dinner party included a total of six people, counting himself and his significant other.  When the dust settled—and it hasn’t fully settled yet—14 people had been infected and two had died.  All because of a quiet dinner party for six. So, this Thanksgiving, does everyone gather around the table for turkey and dressing?  This Christmas, does all the family travel from around the country to celebrate as one?  The risk isn’t so great when it’s your own household, but when you start adding extended family to the mix, you quickly lose control.  And now the increasing numbers we’re seeing are often coming from just such gatherings, mainly because we feel a false sense of security with family, so the precautions that are normally taken aren’t.  Do we choose to abstain in order to protect our most vulnerable loved ones . . . knowing this could be the last year we’ll be allowed to celebrate with them?

This isn’t to say we can’t gather and celebrate, or just go and do, whether it’s holiday parties or weddings or church services or funerals or a trip to the store.  It is to say we must do it wisely and cautiously, giving serious consideration to the well-being of everyone with whom we come in contact.

We can stop this.  We have the power to reverse our course and spare hundreds or even thousands of innocent victims the suffering and possible death this virus carries.  But that means sacrifice on all our parts.  It means the volunteer spirit that lived within our ancestors must be resurrected in this moment.  Those volunteers rose to the challenge; the call went out and they answered without hesitation, putting the needs of others above their own.  That’s the spirit that embodies the history of our great state— and that’s the spirit we should adopt today.  If that means wearing a mask, then wear one.  If that means staying six to nine feet away from people, then mentally measure that distance and do it.  If that means a season of no hugging and handshakes then so be it.  We can do this, but we have to work together.  I personally take no pride in being eighth or ninth in the nation for the number of positive cases of what can be a deadly disease.  So, I’m gonna do my part.  And I’m gonna encourage my family to do theirs.  And I’m gonna encourage you to do yours. After all, the lives we save may be our own.  Better yet, it may be someone we love.

About the author:  Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926.  She has been employed at Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 40 years and currently serves as the manager there.  Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone, and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.

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