I guiltily admit that watching the Walking Dead is a secret pleasure of mine.  It started fifteen years ago as a bonding experience with my oldest son, Francis. He had graduated from Cambridge University with a PhD in Human/Computer Engineering and had stopped at home for a few weeks before his big move to Cupertino, California for his job at a mega-famous computer company. He had managed to record all the episodes of this series that he had been unable to watch when he was in England.  I sat on the couch in our living room under the big picture window, and he sat six inches away from the television so he could see because of his vision impairment. (When he was a toddler and he got that close to the screen, I discussed what I thought was the danger of this position with the ophthalmologist, who reassured me that most TV sets had not been found to give off any measurable level of radiation, and there was no evidence that radiation from tv sets had resulted in human injury.  This did change, however, with the advent of LED screens, at which point Francis, as an adult, chose to purchase an 85-inch screen that he could comfortably view from his own couch.) We sat and watched two years’ worth of the Walking Dead, alternately grimacing at the gore and saying “Ewwwwwww!”  Our compatibility in doing this has stayed with me for years and is one of my most favorite memories.

For those unfamiliar with the show, a biological change overcame anyone bit by a “geek” (as they were originally called,) or a “walker”, the more familiar moniker given to them.  The bitten people would then themselves become a zombie, propagating the problem repeatedly.

In the first year of the show, the geeks were seen using a brick to break a window, climbing up and over a fence, opening doors and running to chase unaffected people. These physical attributes made them worthy adversaries and getting away from them was exhausting and terrifying to watch. As the show progressed in years, they no longer had the ability to use a tool to break a window nor the ability to run.  This made it easier to escape their bite just by being faster than their capabilities.  It wasn’t quite so easy to escape if they fell atop a person and started gnawing.

In order to survive, everyone needed to adapt.  They were no longer free to roam the streets or go shopping at the mall.  Outings generally had a serious purpose, such as to try to find food or medicine.  In order to live, small communities were formed, either in an old farm or warehouse or circle of trees in the woods. Like a well-oiled machine, people had to work cooperatively together, choosing tasks such as washing the clothes, growing the food, cooking the meals or caring for the ill and injured. Their contribution allowed them to live with the group, and those who did not contribute quickly fell by the wayside the next time a group of “walkers” crossed their path. Similar fates felled those who were argumentative or held beliefs contrary to the majority. Although cruel, it was one way to keep the group harmonious.

People had to do with less food and less choice of food.  Carrots and squirrel seemed to be the “go to” meal.  They had to deal with ill-fitting clothing and, this is the worst, NO SHOWERS! This fact played into the joy I witnessed when, on that rare occasion, a shower with hot water, was available. It was like they were in heaven!

To my sociologically trained brain, this show is a metaphor for real life.   It demonstrated the importance of a community, working together for the benefit of all.  Different personalities, races, and ages learned how to mesh their own preconceived notions with the reality around them. They learned to trust each other as if their lives depended upon it, and in many cases it did.  Such is an allegory for life during a pandemic with COVID-19 being the life-threatening zombie bite.   Community life has changed dramatically, but people, the walking living, have adjusted.