Back in the day, I read a Sunday funny called Robotman. It may still exist; I don’t read funnies anymore. In one cartoon, the characters were attempting to use a computer to generate the title for the best selling book of all time. The computer—perhaps Robotman—spit out: The Women Who Love Men Who Hate Cats Diet Plan. I often think about this comic and its clever mash-up of one solution for every need. In the corona, diet plans don’t seem quite so important—though after the corona they sure as hell will be—but apocalypse survival plans do.

Someone needs to write a book that takes all the best lessons from all the best end-of-the-world movies and mashes them together. Ok, not a book, a blog because a book is too long in a survival situation. And fine, not someone, me. So gentle readers, students, and random passers-by, this is what movies have taught me about survival in the corona.

Everyone feels unsafe. My 11-year-old son, especially, is overwhelmed with his schoolwork. He is constantly in the kitchen and, the other night, had an epic meltdown over a spider in his room. As we were talking just before bed, a spider floated down from the ceiling and landed on my leg. He immediately started crying that he couldn’t sleep in his room. I cleaned and vacuumed his room but it was no good—he insisted the spider was still there. So he slept with me. Even during the night, he woke up screaming and jumped out of bed because the spiders were everywhere, and he couldn’t get away from them. His space and his routine (and his mom) have been compromised. The 2004 movie “Shaun of the Dead” teaches us that in times of insecurity, we should take comfort in the familiar and common—this is not a time for something new. Shaun’s survival plan is based on taking his loved ones to the local pub, the Winchester, because he can act normal there—have a drink, talk with friends—and that makes him feel safe. And the fact that the place is named after a gun probably helps. For my son, normalcy is not the pub (yet) but Xbox. We have severely restricted his access to Xbox in order to motivate him to do his schoolwork. This newness is a mistake. Inspired by Shaun, I will allow my son some Xbox normalcy which, while it won’t get rid of the fear stalking outside, may defend against the spiders inside.

1998’s “Deep Impact” might be my favorite movie ever. It has it all—comets crashing into Earth, burgeoning romance, familial breakdown and bonding, hard decisions, a space mission, tidal waves, a Black president, and even passing reference to dinosaurs. Something for everyone! But mostly, it has a theme of self-sacrifice. Almost everyone you think has a story after the heroes avert global disaster, doesn’t. Even the comet sacrifices part of itself by breaking in half, sending the smaller piece to earth and leaving the larger piece to the attention of the heroes sent to divert it. Tanner, the space ship’s hero captain, has told everyone his plan for placing bombs on the large comet and blowing it up. The crew talks through the logistics of Tanner’s plan.

Not without reason, their spaceship is called the Messiah.

Simon: If we do this, we sure as hell won’t have enough propellant left in the Messiah to maneuver with. How are we supposed to get back off the surface (of the comet) once we’ve gotten down there?

Monash: We don’t.

The six-member crew blows itself and the comet up to save the population of Earth. A daughter gives her spot in the underground bunker to a friend so she can be with her estranged father as they are swept out to sea in the tsunami tide caused by the comet’s crash. The astronomer who initially discovers the comet careening toward earth dies in a car crash in the urgency of delivering his news.

We willingly self-sacrifice to get what we really want which, for most of us, is the greater good or at least a good greater than just our own. In the corona, I haven’t had to make theatrical self-sacrifices quite yet, but I have given up my time, independence, and freedom for others. Since March 23, I have been clocking in at least 8-3 every day to prep and grade and build course materials so that my students can continue in this term. When I am not working with college students, I am monitoring the homeschooling activities of my own kids so that they can continue to thrive. And when I am not doing one of those two things, I am writing this blog to share insight that someone else may need. I don’t see anyone or go anywhere or make plans to do so. As “Deep Impact” shows us, we could be giving up a lot more than Spring Break and ready access to toilet paper if we don’t learn some measure of self-sacrifice.

So what’s the perfect title that brings together safety and self-sacrifice in the face of global disaster? What would Robotman do? For these daily posts, I’ve decided against epigraphs in favor of photographs. This blog is headed by an hourglass that is halfway through its time. I don’t want to pretend that this end-of-the-world rehearsal is almost over, but I don’t want to believe we are less than halfway to “normal.” In “Shaun of the Dead”, Shaun and his friends make their escape by acting like zombies and, to be convincing, they decide to practice. Ed, Shaun’s bestie and general lay-about won’t practice and says he will “do it on the night” meaning he’ll make it work when it really counts. So, I’ll title this on the night. Come back when the world is really ending. Right now, it’s just getting started.

Photo by Gaelle Marcel on Unsplash