I spoke with my aunt on the phone the other day. She told me a story from her aunt who was a young mom during the Spanish Flu.

Everyone in her town was given a purple blanket. When someone in your home died, you were to hang the blanket in your front window so that the town officials could come collect the body.

She sat out on her front porch one morning and surveyed the street—every front window awash with purple fabric.

She started to feel sick. The doctor came to her house, confirmed she had the Spanish flu. His high-brow medical advice? Drink whisky and sleep it off.

She did. She drank a bunch of whisky, spent the next week or so in bed, and recovered. After all, she was young and healthy.

Why am I telling you this? I don’t really know.

I guess I’m just asking you all to consider how the US just surpassed 400,000 deaths, and how much purple fabric that would take.