A LETTER TO AARON RODGERS

 

Dear Aaron, 

I’ve thought about writing a letter to you in the past. I grew up fifty miles north of Green Bay, and, aside from God, family, and country, people in my home town worship the Green Bay Packers. I followed Don Hutson in grade school, cheered rabidly for the Packers during the Lombardi Super Bowl era, and have been thrilled by the team’s resurgence during Brett Favre’s and your tenures as quarterback. In addition to your world-class athletic skills, I’ve also respected you as an intelligent, articulate person with good values and a sense of humor. Needless to say, I’ve been confused and disappointed by the recent uproar regarding your choice to not get a Covid-19 vaccination. You’ve expressed your desire to have a conversation about the issue rather than continued confrontation and hostility. Hence, this letter. 

Here is my understanding of the situation. While the NFL encourages vaccinations, it does not require them of players Approximately 5% of players have chosen not to get vaccinated, and there hasn’t been much hullabaloo about this. According to NFL rules, unvaccinated players are required to be tested daily and to wear masks when in public situations. When you were asked if you were vaccinated on the weekly radio show on which you appear, you replied, “Yeah, I’m immunized.” As you subsequently acknowledged, this was a misleading statement since you haven’t been vaccinated with any of the approved Covid-19 vaccines. Regarding mask-wearing, you’ve said, citing Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., that you consider this to be an unjust rule and have deliberately chosen not to follow it in various situations. 

 The most widespread criticism of your behavior has to do with judgments that you lied to the public about being vaccinated. While you claim that you were telling the truth that you’ve been immunized (by an alternative homeopathic treatment), you have acknowledged and taken responsibility for misleading people with your statement. Personally, I think you made an unfortunate mistake in the radio interview, and owning up to it is the best course available. (You should have just said that you’d chosen to do an alternative treatment.) 

 A further issue is the nature of the treatment you have undergone. The main component is ivermectin, an anti-parasitic drug used to treat intestinal worms and lice in horses. However, the Food and Drug Administration has not authorized ivermectin for use against Covid-19, stating that there is no evidence of its effectiveness in combatting the disease and that use of large doses in humans can cause comas and seizures. You indicate that a major influence in your decision was advice from podcast host Joe Rogan, but, of course, Rogan has no medical expertise. Nor does Fox News host Laura Ingraham, another major proponent of ivermectin. From a medical and scientific standpoint, there don’t seem to be adequate grounds for your decision. Consistent with this, the NFL rejected your appeal to have your alternative treatment accepted as a substitute for Covid vaccines. 

 You’ve also argued that “personal health decisions in my opinion should be private.” While this sounds almost self-evident, it’s also the case that, with a world-famous figure like yourself, health decisions can have significant consequences for teammates, loved ones, the many persons you come into contact with, and millions of fans. That’s neither personal nor private. One concrete example is your being excluded from the Kansas City game because of a positive Covid test, a Packers loss which the team might well have won if you’d been vaccinated and eligible to play. You’ve stated that “I’m not, you know, some sort of anti-vax, flat-earther.” But your public statements have given impetus to the “anti-vax, flat-earther” movement. According to recent CDC data, unvaccinated people are 6 times as likely to contract Covid-19, 10 times as likely to be hospitalized, and 11 times as likely to die from it, compared to vaccinated people. Recommending and modeling non-vaccination to the general public by someone of your celebrity increases the likelihood of infection, hospitalization, and death in the general population. 

My sense is that you’ve been surprised and distressed by the media controversy regarding your health choices and would have much preferred that these matters had remained private. It’s as though you’ve been caught up in a furor not entirely of your own making, and I sympathize with that. What to do about it is a puzzle. You could, of course, opt to be vaccinated and make that information public. I’m struck by the fact that none of your public statements advocate vaccination for the general public. Since your own reasons for an alternative treatment are idiosyncratic (i.e., your report of an allergy to an ingredient in the Pfizer and Moderna vaccines), I personally think that you could draw upon the great bulk of scientific information available and encourage others to get vaccinated. I hope you consider this possibility and change tactics. 

Sincerely yours, 

David L

OPENING NIGHT

 

Dear George, 

Such a lucky break — I checked my calendar late Saturday afternoon and was shocked to find that we had a symphony concert in just ninety minutes. Katja was sound asleep and she had had no idea either. It always takes me less time to get ready, and I paced the floor, getting more and more jittery. Finally we left a little before 7:00 for the 7:30 concert. I checked out the Washington Square parking garage across from Music Hall, but they were charging $15 (a violation of my principles). Because Katja’s foot was aching, I dropped her off at the front entrance and headed around the block to Central Parkway where the old parking garage costs $10 (still annoying). I always park on the top floor there because you can just drive down the ramp and go right out the 12th St. exit. 

I locked the car and hurriedly walked two blocks to Music Hall. A volunteer at the door asked for my vaccination card and photo I.D. He carefully checked my photo even though my face was covered by my mask. Next I went through a metal detector to get screened for revolvers and knives. The guy asked if I had an umbrella under my raincoat, but I said no. A third man scanned the bar code on my ticket and I was finally cleared to enter. The lobby was filled with chatting symphony fans, but, because all the people were wearing masks, no one looked familiar to me. I couldn’t tell who was pretty or handsome, smiling or frowning, young or old. A strange scene. 

Katja had already gone to her seat. Our tickets were for the third row, the closest we’ve ever been. We had to look upward toward the stage, we could only see the front line of performers, and the music was pretty loud. At precisely 7:30 conductor Louis Langrée came out to welcome the audience. This was the first weekend of the new 2021-22 season, and he was exuberant because it has been nineteen months since the orchestra has given a performance. The audience was excited too, and Louis got a lengthy round of applause. 

The guest artist was the prize-winning pianist Drew Pearson, and he paired with Symphony Concertmaster Stefani Masuo for a rousing piano-violin duet rendition of Brahms” “F-A-E” Sonata. Then Pearson was the soloist with the orchestra for an avant-garde fantasy by contemporary composer Andrew Norman, and the orchestra wound up with Brahm’s Symphony No. 3 in F major, also filled with fire and explosions. Katja is the classical music lover in our family, and I am more like a gigolo who serves as her male companion at high culture events. Perhaps because of our long absence, I found the music more exciting than usual and look forward to our next outing. 

At the intermission the man sitting next to me asked if I had been bothered by the radio broadcast. Apparently somebody sitting behind us had been listening to the Ohio State football game via ear pods throughout the performance. I hadn’t heard it myself (an example of how bad hearing can actually be to one’s advantage), but I agreed with him that this was pitiful. (As a University of Michigan alumnus it also confirmed my worst stereotypes of Ohio State fans.) 

After the concert Katja and I chose a pick-up spot in front of Music Hall, and I went to get the car. I drove down the ramp, but to my horror the exit barricade was closed, and no one was moving. The line of waiting cars extended back as far as I could see. A woman got out of the lead car at the exit and, with a strenuous effort, managed to shove the gate arm up and hold it there while her husband drove through. Then the arm came back down, and the next car was stuck. The car right in front of me gave up, got out of the line, and headed back into the parking garage. Certain that I’d never get out the 12th Street exit, I followed him. We made some right turns and left turns and eventually got back to the main entrance where we’d come in before the concert. Happily, that gate was wide open, and the other driver and I exited onto Central Parkway. I didn’t see any cars following us, and there were no parking employees anywhere. I wonder how many hours it took people to get out. 

Katja was in a happy post-concert mood when I picked her up. I was a bit nervous about having spent two hours at our first mass gathering since the start of the pandemic, even with required vaccinations and masks. Despite my worries, it was another baby step toward normality for us and a huge, life-changing step for our orchestra and the Music Hall staff. 

Love, 

Dave