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To halt the spread of the novel coronavirus, federal, state and local governments have called on us to separate ourselves as much as possible from others. The result in much of the United States has been the complete disruption of daily life, with schools suspending classes, businesses scaling back operations, workers staying home and bars, restaurants, malls, arenas and movie theaters going dark.Not surprisingly, though, some people are failing to comply with the new rules and admonitions. Photos of empty beaches and downtown districts abound, but so do shots of crowds of spring break partiers in Florida and packed concerts in Nashville. (3/20)

If the coronavirus makes you feel anxious, imagine what it feels like to be a nurse or a doctor right now. Medical workers risk their lives to protect public health during pandemics. As the COVID-19 virus spreads, we must all do our part to protect those working on the frontlines. “We take our job seriously and we know that we can take care of these patients, said Robin Cole, an emergency room nurse at Kaiser Permanente South Sacramento Medical Center. “We just insist that we take care of these patients in a safe manner, with the proper [personal protective equipment], using the precautionary principle to make sure that we’re safe, we keep our family safe and we’re keeping the public safe.” (3/19)

I’ve had hard conversations this week. “Look me in the eye,” I said to my neighbor Karen, who was spiraling to a dark place in her mind. “I make this personal promise to you — I will not let your children die from this disease.” I swallowed back a lump in my throat. Just the image of one of our kids attached to a tube was jarring. Two weeks ago our kids were having a pizza party and watching cartoons together, running back and forth between our apartments. This was before #socialdistancing was trending. Statistically, I still feel good about my promise to Karen because children do not seem to be dying from Covid-19. There are others to whom I cannot make similar promises. (Cornelia Griggs, 3/19)

Right now I want to hear less from politicians, and much more from doctors. Covid-19 hospitalizations are surging, as expected. ER doctors, nurses and health care experts are using traditional media and social media to sound alarms about supply shortages and other serious problems. "DOCTORS SOUND ALARM AS A NATION STRUGGLES" is the banner headline in Friday's NYT. (Brian Stelter, 3/20)

Happy hour, it turns out, is not canceled. In our new lockdown normal, you can get a downtown bar’s frothy, fussy cocktail, your favorite six-pack or a bottle of pinot delivered to your door after legislators swiftly enacted the biggest change to liquor laws since 1933. (Petula Dvorak, 3/19)

I went downtown last week to meet a couple of old friends for a long-scheduled work-related get-together — our last get-together for a while, I figure. A drive that usually takes 25 minutes, from northwest Dallas, took maybe 13 tops — no traffic on the toll road, no cars on the side streets. I stopped on Main Street and parked along a row of meters normally bumper-to-bumper on a weekday afternoon. I got out of the car and walked empty sidewalks to an apartment building where a man wearing purple latex gloves was delivering fast food to a resident.Inside the lobby, the people who lived there ignored me, an interloper in their midst. Hellos weren’t returned; nods of the head went unacknowledged. My host came to fetch me. Our small group, huggers all, bumped elbows and kept our distance — six feet and then some. We talked for a while about some business, pretending all was normal when it wasn’t, then we walked back downstairs. (Robert Wilonsky, 3/20)

In the winter of 1942, shortly after Pearl Harbor was attacked, Edward Hopper began a new painting: a New York City diner at night, seen from outside, its four alienated inhabitants trapped behind a bubble of green glass. Of all Hopper’s paintings, “Nighthawks” encapsulates urban loneliness, the feeling of being unable to connect despite being surrounded by millions of others. Over the decades, it’s become so emblematic of this unhappy state that it’s regularly subject to parody. Sometimes the melancholy incumbents wear party hats; sometimes the diner floats in space. This week, a new version started circulating on social media. All the color had drained away. The people had vanished. The diner was empty. (Laing, 3/19)

In every community, COVID-19 poses additional threats for survivors of domestic violence. With external factors of mass closures, record numbers of people not working or working from home and the tension of the unknown, stress can build and lead to increased incidences of domestic violence.As well, the recommendation for social distancing parlays into the oft-used tactic of abusers: social isolation. In our work, it has been our experience that assailants use social isolation to gain greater control over the survivor. It often begins in subtle ways, but grows over time, which minimizes any help a survivor can access and can have significant physical and mental health impacts. (Barbara Niess-May, 3/19)

When we heard that the Los Angeles Unified School District would close schools for two weeks to help slow the spread of the novel coronavirus, my two sons — one in third grade, the other in fifth — were thrilled because no school usually means they get to sleep late, watch too much television and enjoy their vacation. I knew the closure would a challenge because I’m still working and, no, the boys weren’t being given the time off. They were switching from elementary school to home school. (Kerry Cavanaugh, 3/19)

Thanks to the coronavirus, my third-grade twins are home all day for the foreseeable future. I’m not going to recreate school for them.Judge me all you want. Out of respect for their amazing teachers, I’m making a good-faith effort to get my kids to do the work that’s been sent home, but that does not come anywhere close to filling what would have been a school day. (Jennie Weiner, 3/19)

Millennials may just have the opportunity to rebrand what it means to be American, as did many of their predecessors, including the "Greatest Generation," dubbed so for their sacrifices during World War II. Sure, there's plenty of blame to go around for the scary state of affairs regarding the novel coronavirus, especially when it comes to the American government: Why weren't we prepared? Why has President Donald Trump obfuscated the issue and blamed others? Still, the question to ask is: What do we owe one another? (Brandon Tensley, 3/19)

I’ve been speaking to epidemiologists about their best- and worst-case scenarios to gauge what may lie ahead and see how we can tilt the balance. Let me start with the best case, since we could all use a dose of hope — which may even be therapeutic — before presenting a bleaker prognosis.“The best case is that the virus mutates and actually dies out,” said Dr. Larry Brilliant, an epidemiologist who as a young doctor was part of the fight to eradicate smallpox. Brilliant was a consultant for the movie “Contagion,” in which a virus evolved to become more deadly, but that’s the exception. “Only in movies do viruses seem to become worse,” he explained. (Nicholas Kristof, 3/20)

If you have a cough, fever, or shortness of breath, how can you tell if you’ve got Covid-19, a common cold, the ordinary flu, or a bad case the worries? Should you get tested? When should you seek medical care —and when should you just stay home? (Michael Hochman, Michael Wang and Katy Butler, 3/20)

I can’t stop touching my face. I know the recommendations, but you can’t wipe away tears without your hands unless you awkwardly use your shoulder and that is getting old. My dad, David Kanter, died on March 18, and while we are restricted from gathering, there will be no in-person support from friends or family. He had come to Dallas to visit for Christmas, and during his visit he was diagnosed with acute leukemia. He never got to go back home. The reality of this moment is that our family is in New England and can’t come to be with us. There will be no group gathering in my living room sharing stories and wine. And I’m not sure I want people bringing food to the house, so my wife and children and mom are isolated in a moment when we need others. (Daniel Kanter, 3/20)